Awakening || Harry & Hermione

Chapter 4.2

After the Yule Ball, Ron had been extra sulky. Apparently, he felt that Harry and Hermione had abandoned him by going together and 'being in their own little world' while Ron had been left to 'rot in the shadows.' Hermione had called him overly dramatic and ridiculous, saying that he had his own partner whom he had pointedly ignored the whole night and that it was no one's fault but his own that he hadn't had fun. Ron had responded that she was a disloyal friend and only cared about Harry, then proceeded to insinuate that Harry had only gone with her to the ball out of pity. Harry's fatigue from all the dancing and dealing with Ron's nonsensical temper tantrums from the last few months had led him to telling Ron point-blank that he needed to 'grow up' if he wanted to remain friends with them.

Harry would have regretted being so short with him if he hadn't already decided that without maturity and trust, whatever friendship he had would be fragile at best and too prone to collapse at the worst of times. It would be nice if Ron would take this chance to change, but with the way his bed curtains were currently tightly shut and without even so much as a goodnight from him in the last few weeks, he wasn't holding his breath.

In any case, he was already swamped with worries and stress from all sides and had no patience to deal with anymore drama. Was he really going to rely on the bubblehead charm to pass the second task? What precious item would be taken from him? What had Karkaroff meant in Potions by telling Snape that his dark mark was burning? Were his ever constant nightmares about that old man and the manor and that voice a mere consequent from his scar or did they actually mean something?

He must have sat there motionless for a while, because he heard a rustle from one of the beds and Neville's drowsy voice calling out to him from the side bed. "Can't sleep, Harry?"

"Sorry, did I wake you?"

Neville rubbed his eyes and shook his head. "You've been sitting there like a statue for ten minutes now."

"Really?" Harry startled. "I was just...thinking."

"I meant what I told you the night of the ball, you know. You can talk to me about anything, especially if it's something keeping you up at night like this."

"Unless you know the details about the dark mark and death eater methods of communication, the meaning of strangely specific nightmares, or how to both breathe underwater and gain a decent swimming proficiency overnight... it would just frustrate you to listen to the problems in my life."

"Well." Neville scratched his head. "Dunno about the rest, but the underwater and swimming problem... I might know a thing or two."

_____

Harry had regretted complaining about his scar hurting in his letter to Sirius when his godfather had decided to instantly return to Britain. No matter how much he had reassured him that everything was fine, Sirius saw through his ruse. Harry hated to think that his godfather was putting himself at risk because of him, but at the same time, he felt comfort from knowing that he was somewhere nearby. Besides Hermione's companionship, Sirius' letters had been one of the only things keeping him sane during the Tournament.

Usually, Harry would have tightly leashed his yearning to see Sirius and talk to him face to face. However, Hermione's frequent reassurances that it was necessary for him to have people he could trust and open up to had slightly lessened the guilt he felt in offhandedly remarking in his last letter that he would like to meet him in person sometime soon. One exuberant reply from Sirius later (ending with "bring some food!") resulted in Harry and Hermione spending their next Hogsmeade weekend carrying bags of packed lunches and dinners from the kitchen to the location Sirius had specified.

A shaggy black dog met them at the end of the road in the countryside surrounding Hogsmeade and scattered off to lead them up a rocky mountain. Hermione and Harry exchanged secret smiles at Sirius' obvious happiness at seeing them, but as they climbed up the mountain and finally entered the damp, tight cave, Harry's smile disappeared.

Buckbeak was standing in one of the corners, still as sharp-eyed and majestic as ever. But Sirius who had transformed back... he looked even worse than he had during third year. He still wore those horrid grey prisoner robes, his long hair was a tangled, matted mess, and even the large grin he gave his godson seemed out of place on his sallow, scarily thin face.

"You don't know how glad I am you asked to see me," Sirius said, hungrily eyeing the containers Hermione carried in her arms. "I thought it would take another month or two before I could safely bring the topic up without you refusing."

"Refuse? Even if I worry about you getting caught out here, I wouldn't outright be against meeting up." Harry eyed the dingy, cold cave with an uneasy feeling growing in his chest. "Not when you've come so far just to be close to me."

"Well, of course I came." Sirius puffed up his chest. "What kind of godfather would I be if I hadn't?"

Hermione unwrapped a piece of chicken and handed it to him sympathetically, but couldn't help but scold him. "Forget the danger involved in case you were sighted, I can't imagine it's easy living here! What made you think this would be a good idea?"

He took a ravenous bite of the chicken. "Not what. Who. We've been in contact and once Harry mentioned his dreams, Dumbledore thought it best I stay somewhere close by his side. This cave he suggested isn't so bad: it's out of the way and if I ever do want some sun, I just go outside and pretend to be a lovable stray. Granted, the food supply is woefully limited to rats, but we can't have everything we want."

"Dumbledore suggested this?" Hermione asked, perplexed.

"Rats?" Harry's head spun.

"It's an acquired taste. Mind you, I won't miss it now that you've brought some actual sustenance with you."

"Why didn't you tell me you were living like this?" Harry's voice trembled with rage. "This cave is barely fit for Buckbeak, let alone a human! You look like a sack of bones—Sirius, I can count your ribs from here! Rats? Even I was fed better at the Dursleys this summer! What—" There was a lump in his throat and his eyes started to blur. "What would my parents say if they saw you now? What would they say to me?"

Hermione unceremoniously dropped the bags of food onto the cave floor and rushed over to him. "Harry, you need to breathe."

Breathe? He was breathing. Harry couldn't understand what she was saying.

His chest felt tight and the world spun around him as he slowly lowered himself to the floor. No, no. He was fine: it was the people around him who weren't. The people who cared, few as they were. His parents had loved him and where were they now? Sirius had offered to be his family and Harry had rejoiced, not knowing that a year later that same man would be living like a dog in order to be close to him. Hermione said she was happy to be his best friend, but how happy was she really to be dragged to death's door every year by his side? Everyone who had ever cared for him suffered and just like his previous revelation about Hermione, he had been too embroiled in his own misgivings to even consider what they were going through for his sake.

Who was he even angry at? Sirius for not telling him what kind of awful situation he was in? Dumbledore for not only knowing, but encouraging Sirius to languish in this state? Or was it at himself for never even bothering to ask? "It's my fault." He gasped.

A strong pair of arms came around his shoulders and patted his back. "It's all right, Harry. This isn't your fault. Breathe now."

Harry hadn't even realized he was crying until Hermione carefully wiped something wet off his cheek. He looked over her shoulder to see Sirius standing stock still, his mouth open, and a half-eaten chicken leg hanging loosely in his hand.

"I-I'm so sorry, Sirius—"

"No! Harry, I don't know what's going on, but I'm the one who—"

"Oh, would the both of you stop! No one should be apologizing here and no one is at fault. Harry, sit back down and lean against my shoulder. Sirius, come over here and throw away that chicken leg, for goodness sake."

The two dumbly followed her instructions. "Now, I think it's about time we had ourselves a nice, long chat."