Bittersweet

"Sirius?"

Harry stood before the thick black curtain of the archway, straining to hear any sign of ghostly whisperings.

"Sirius, please," his voice, weak and desperate, echoed in the empty room. He wrapped his arms around himself, shivering from the cold. Rapid puffs of breath clouded in front of him.

He reached into the pocket of his cloak and pulled out the mirror, lines of tape marking the surface where it had been broken.

"Just one more moment. Please, Sirius, I just need one more moment." He ran his trembling fingers over the mirror, waiting.

A shadow, blurry and grey, began to materialize within the reflection.

"Sirius! Sirius, can you hear me? It's me, Harry!" He held it closer, eyes flickering back and forth from the mirror to the veil before him. His heart beat painfully, the sound of blood rushing through his veins, pounding in his ears.

The veil began to move...a soft, pale blue light spilling out from the seam where the fabric began to part. Harry's breath caught in his throat, his eyes widening as the unmistakable figure of his godfather slowly revealed himself.

"I knew you'd come back for me," he gasped, his knees nearly failing him. Relief, so encompassing it was almost painful, flooded his heart.

Sirius approached the threshold, extending his hand.

"I'll always come back for you, Harry."

A sob wrenched from the boy as he lunged at the man he thought he'd lost forever, crossing the threshold into the pale blue light and burying his face in Sirius' shoulder, his glasses falling to the ground.

"Shh...I'm here, Harry. I've got you." Sirius held on tight as Harry's trembling body collapsed in his arms. He sank to his knees, cradling him as he sobbed. Harry's hands were gripping Sirius' arms so tightly the fabric threatened to tear.

"Not dead...I knew you weren't dead. Oh God, I wanted you to come back so badly...I never got to tell you that I-"

"Shh, Harry. It's ok." Sirius smoothed his hair and took Harry's face in his hands, wiping away tears and kissing his forehead.

"You're not dead," Harry whimpered, and noticing for the first time that the Sirius holding him was not the same Sirius that fell through the veil on that horrible day.

His hair was short and neatly trimmed, his face smooth and shaven. There was a light in his eyes that Harry had only seen one other time in his life - the photos of his parent's wedding. Gone were all traces of Azkaban as Sirius smiled down at him, and he gripped Sirius' wrists, wanting to feel his hands on his face.

"I am dead. And now you are, too."

"I...I am?"

"Yes, Harry. But you still have time to go back. If you turn around right now, you can still walk out, and you'll forget this ever happened."

Sirius nodded his head towards the veil, and Harry turned to look. The seam was slowly closing, leaving him just enough room to get back through if he decided right now.

He turned to look again at his godfather, feeling safe and loved in his arms.

"I think I'll stay."

Sirius blinked slowly, giving him a consolatory smile. "Then I'll stay with you."

Harry wrapped his arms around Sirius' waist as they moved to stand.

"Don't let go, okay?"

"I won't, Harry...I won't."

~*~

Harry awoke from his fitful sleep, sweating and gasping for air. His pillow was damp from tears he couldn't remember crying. It was the same dream that he'd had every night since he came back to Privet Drive five weeks ago.

Sirius...saying it would be all right. Holding him. Telling him he would stay.

A fierce emptiness filled him whole as Harry remembered his touch; Sirius' arms tight around him, the cool burn of his fingertips as he grazed his cheek, wiping away the tears of his bittersweet relief.

He sat up, pressing the palms of his hands to his eyes until all he saw were flashes of light.

Sirius.

He pulled his knees to his chest, wrapping his arms around them and slowly rocking back and forth.

It's not real. It's just a dream. He's not coming back. He's never coming back.

Harry heard the soft hoot of an owl as Hedwig glided in through the open window, three small scrolls tied to her leg. He watched her blurry form settle on the desk underneath the window, waiting. He reached for his glasses and put them on, having no intention of reading any of them except one.

Since his departure from Platform 9 3/4, the letters from Ron & Hermione had come faithfully every three days, always with the same request at the end...'Write back as soon as you get this.' Apparently, they didn't trust him to keep in contact on his own.

The third letter, which came once a week and always on Sunday, was from Remus. Harry glanced at the handwriting on the letters, searching for the familiar penmanship...careful and deliberate, even and smooth. He untied the black ribbon that held it together and read:

Dearest Harry,

Thank you for your last letter. I know you don't like being forced into

correspondence like this, but I'm glad that you felt comfortable enough

to be honest with me.

I wish I had the right words to say to you, but I'm afraid that I don't.

I wish that I could tell you things will get better, but I can't. No one hates

it more than I do that you have been dealt the hand that life has given

you. Well, one person did, but now I have taken on the burden for the

both of us.

In answer to your question, yes I do dream about it. And yes, I do find a

certain comfort in that. It's okay to want that, Harry. Much like your

hesitation to conjure your first Patronus for the sake of your mother's voice.

You miss him a great deal, as do I.

Please don't ever doubt that he knew you loved him. Sirius was, well, not a

man of many words. He let his actions speak for him. If it makes you feel

any better, I never said it to him either. We were best friends since I was

eleven years old, and I never said it. But he knew.

And he knew you loved him, too.

I have heard from both Hermione and Ron that you have not written them

back. They miss you, Harry, and Hermione especially is getting quite

desperate to hear from you. I have not shared anything that you've written in

your letters, but I have told them that you are safe. Still, I think it's best that

they hear it from you, no?

I am going to speak to Dumbledore about arranging something for your

birthday next week. I'd really like to see you, if that's all right with you.

Perhaps tea at Ms. Figg's. I'll let you know as soon as I find out.

All my best,

Moony

Harry folded the letter, and placed it in the top drawer of his desk along with his growing collection of Ron and Hermione's unread letters.

"Off you go, Hedwig. I won't need you until tomorrow."

Hedwig hooted softly once more and flew out the window to continue her nocturnal hunt. Harry lay back in bed, feeling for the first time in weeks a soothing warmth at the prospect of seeing Remus again. This feeling had become so alien to him that he almost didn't recognize it for what it was.

He didn't feel much of anything at all anymore, except for anger. His moods shifted between an obscene rage and an overwhelming grief throughout the course of the day. The Dursley's were treading very lightly around him these days, ever since he'd cornered his aunt in the kitchen his first week back and demanded that she tell him everything she knew. Sadly, it wasn't anything he hadn't heard from Dumbledore that day in his office, but he found he didn't quite despise her as much as he used to. Instead, he felt nothing at all for her. Complete apathy.

He felt his eyelids getting heavy, and the need to slumber started to consume him once again. He let his eyes close, and sank into darkness once again as he fell back into a deep sleep. He did not dream of Sirius again that night. He dreamt, instead, of he and Remus...standing at the archway, and turning to leave.

~*~

A few author notes...

Many thanks and lurve to Psycho Barfly and littletort for the final read-through and beta's. Zed Adams, Chickadilly, and Jane also gave lovely thoughts.