Barty had been in Malfoy Manor before. When he was still a boy, wearing the mask. Of course, officially they all weren't supposed to know one another, but truthfully that had never held entirely true for any of the followers with more influence. They were all from the same circle of pureblood families, after all. Most of them had gone to the same school, the same parties, the same events. Grown up together. Of course, Barty was a better observer than some. How could he ever have missed the way Regulus always fidgeted in those small, almost undetectable ways, when he had spent so much time watching him in school? How could he have mistaken a weasel like Lucius for anything other than he was, no matter the mask he was wearing?
And then, of course, they had also met without masks, on their own behest. Like the times he had been in Malfoy Manor before. Back then he had been young, the youngest for a while even. Holding a lot of promise, but his Lord didn't want to favour him in front of the others, at least not yet. He had to prove himself. He had to navigate these powerful people, show that he was not his father's son. Show himself for who he really was.
And he had. He had in so many more ways than anyone had predicted and now when he walked through the manor, it wasn't him having to act as if he respected the others. It was them respecting him. Fearing him. Barty was enjoying the contrast. The present was better than the past. That hadn't been true in a long, long time, but here he was now.
Of course, he still couldn't sleep easily. Nightmares haunted him and shadows of the past pulled on his mind. And so it was that he walked around at night, for no particular reason, waiting for his restless soul to settle down. Instead he caught sight of Draco Malfoy. And he smiled.
What was the boy doing up at this hour? Well, he could imagine. A lot of things weighing at his mind too.
"Malfoy." He said the name and there was a sneer in it and no need to mask it. "What are you up to?"
It was near impossible to have any kind of well rested sleep when he had all of these people crawling around his home. Draco supposed the reality was a lot worse than the vision. He always saw himself as just riding along as his father sat on high but, in reality, his father wasn't as strong as he'd expected. He did not ride on high and the dark lord didn't much seem to care for them either. And that left him in a rather awkward situation.
Namely that life wasn't easy or simple and he really didn't like being a death eater.
No, really, he thought the cause was right and just but he just didn't like any part of it. He liked to be more of a backseat sort of fellow, not out in the centre. And yet, things kept conspiring against him. Everything kept backfiring. And he hated it.
He had been downstairs, trying to sneak a snack, food crammed in his pockets when Barty caught him out. God, no, not that psychopath. Really, Death Eaters and their cause attracted the most odious of people. Turning around slowly, Draco tried his best to not seem bothered by Barty's presence. Though he was. Big time. God, that sneer.
"Just walking about... it is our manor so--" So he should be allowed to go for a bloody walk.
"Really? I'd have thought it'd be past your bedtime." Barty walked closer, stopping a few feet away from the boy. He was very much still a boy, younger even than his years. Or perhaps that was just the standard Barty was going with, a standard by which Draco here very much fell into the category of 'pathetic'. "You should be asleep. Or, you know, studying. If your grades haven't improved a lot since I taught you."
It was fun, he thought. Reminding the boy of how he'd been his teacher. Especially because he punctuated the sentence by subtly moving his finger up and down, not unlike a certain bouncing ferret.
"My grades are fine." They weren't but he didn't care much. It wasn't like they needed to be fine cause he'd get a good job no matter what. Or so he told himself. He was pretty sure he was going to get something comfortable regardless of his schooling. "Father will help me find employment, doesn't seem worth the hard work to study."
Yes, he was boldly flaunting that but, well, Barty was also a pureblood. Surely he got it. Wizards like them didn't have to try hard, not really. Even if his father yelled at him for bad grades, what was he going to do? Disown him? Pfft. He was the heir. "And I don't have a bed time." He did. Taking a big step back, he eyed up his escape plan. "If you'll excuse me..."
Inside the room he occupied, there wasn't much. A bed and a desk. And books, entirely too many books. Barty had been doing a lot of research, which wasn't exactly anything new. He had always studied a lot, had always wanted to learn. But his research now, it had a purpose.
He approached the wall, tapped the stones in the right order. As the wall opened, he stepped through it.
The magic circle laid untouched. "Lumos."
Just enough light to see, so Barty stepped closer, looked inside the circle. The figure there, ghostly, transparent... So clearly Regulus by now. Down to the way his hair fell to the way he slept. Not just a ghost, no, Barty could sense it. Even now, just kneeling on the edge of the circle.
"Regulus?" He whispered the name, not sure what to expect. Perhaps nothing. But they were getting there, he knew that too. He had hope. A strange feeling to have.
It was like being stuck in a dream. Everything happened around him but nothing happened too. He lived through memories and pictures of things he didn't remember, saw flashes of stuff and felt feelings for things he didn't understand. Nothing made any sense and he knew, terrifyingly, that this wasn't right. He supposed awareness was the first thing he got back. And he really wished it wasn't.
It made everything so much harder. It was terrifying.
He couldn't grasp onto anything, he could steady himself in reality or form words for so long. It was like escaping a dark void and trying to crawl towards some source of light.
Today he felt so close to the edge, he could taste it. He heard someone call his name and knew the voice but not the name so he didn't know who to call to. He reached his hand out impulsively to try and push himself past that edge. "Help."
"Shh, darling. I've got you." Barty wished he could touch him, especially when he saw him reach out, but he didn't dare break the circle. Not right now, not without some preparation. He wished it was that easy, but he also knew that even if he stepped inside, it wasn't as if he could actually hold Regulus. It was too early still. Nothing corporal. He couldn't touch him. "It's me. I'm here to help you."
He wished he knew whether Regulus could understand him. No way to tell so far, but at least he was reacting. That was something. That was good. Regulus looked older than he had been when he'd last seen him, which was strange. Maybe it was just the way this state made him look or maybe he had somehow aged, even in limbo.
Hours had passed, Barty had slept very little. He had reinforced all the charms and curses that kept people from entering the room and - honestly - the ones that made sure Regulus couldn't just leave. He doubted Regulus felt up for it, but still. Another thing he did was ready potions that could help and get house elves to prepare all food he remembered Regulus liking. Luckily he had a good memory.
And so he ended up watching him eat, sitting on the bed with him, leaning back against the foot of the bed. Regulus looked better today. Less pale, more real. Good. They were getting there.
Regulus hadn't realised how hungry he was until he started to eat. The suddenly, he was eagerly devouring his entire plate. He felt as if he had been starved for years... and technically, yes, kind of. He had been gone for ... eighteen years, was it? God. He missed more than anyone should have.
Once he finished up his last bite, he looked at Barty curiously. "Are you not hungry yourself?" Felt weird to be the only one eating. And also eating on a bed like some commoner.
"I ate before," Barty said dismissively, but then he leaned forward and picked up a piece of bread anyway, taking it into his mouth and eating. No need to unsettle Regulus by appearing less than human, he did that with everyone else. Here was finally someone he didn't actually intend to scare. Someone he wanted to let in.
It had been a long time ago since that had been true. "Are you ready for your recent history lesson?"
Draco did not want to do this, he didn't particularly want to go out in the first place, let alone with the biggest nutjob in this place. Crouch was a frustrating pain, he had an unshakeable calm, he was cruel and rude and, worst of all, no one cared! No one cared if he complained! No one did anything after he scratched up his wrist with his bloody nails like some stray cat.
Both father and mother gave him some strict warnings to just try and avoid him.
Well, lot of good that did. Now he had a secret mission from the Dark Lord to complete with the psychopath. He was supposed to meet him outside at 11pm of all times, way past his not-official but actually official bedtime. Sulking and stalling as long as he could in his room, he finished preparing to go out, slipped on his shoes and made his way out. Two minutes late. He didn't fancy being on time, he was feeling particularly rebellious but not confident enough to push it to five minutes.
Barty had a lot of things on his mind and a lot of things weighing on him. Regulus was... He was healthy. He was recovering. More and more himself every day. But that also made this more real. That to give Regulus a future, he had to betray everything he stood for. Or maybe readjust what it was he stood for. Love. That hadn't been a factor in his life for a long time, but here he was now.
Waiting for the idiot boy. He looked up when he finally made his way to him, less that impressed. "Can you read time, Malfoy?"
"Close enough, isn't it? What's a few minutes gonna hurt?" Draco strolled over, trying to seem more confidence and together... while carefully standing as far out of reach as he physically couldn't without it being super obvious. He didn't want to get grabbed again or anything else like that. He just wanted to do his job, be done with it and go home.
"What are doing then? It's getting on a bit so let's be quick."
He wanted to lazy in bed, not be terrified to his core.
The train was about the same as ever, time past slower than he wanted and he was getting pretty bored. He sent Pansy off to get him some food and she just hadn't come back yet, probably pulled away by a gang of giggling girls or something. Urgh, girls. So stupid.
He looked up at Blaise, just the two of them in this carriage, mildly offended that Blaise seemed content not talking to him. How?
"So I got a new broom this year. Best model on the market."
Blaise nodded his head, wondering if that would suffice. He didn't think so. Draco had that tone. So he finally stopped looking at the window to turn his head and look at Draco. "Don't you always have the best model?"
Aside from the infamous year of the Firebolt, but he really, really, really didn't want to bring that up again. Although it was still a very nice broom, admittedly. Not that he really wanted to discuss that, least of all with Draco. "You think it's going to help you win?"
He hadn't been speaking English in a while, it still came a little slower than usual and some words were subtly off in their pronunciation. Whatever, everyone loved his accent.
"Well, not always." Yes, he said it with bitterness, yes, he thought of the fucking Firebolt. He puffed out his cheeks with annoyance and looked out of the window. "I don't need a good broom to help me win, I'll do fine by myself." Debatable. He was only there because of his father and the brooms certainly helped him stay on the team and do better so it would help a lot.
"As long as I can knock Potter off his high horse, I'll be happy."
Grinning, Draco bounced a little. Oh, speaking of - time to put a certain doubt to rest. "Say, Blaise, you don't think I--I talk about Potter too much, do you?"
At any given time in his life, the last thing Harry wanted was spend time with Draco Malfoy. Hell, there were some days where he'd even prefer Voldemort. Today was definitely one of these days. After everything that happened in class, now he had to suffer even more and clean up, scrub cauldrons that he was certain Snape had made even harder to clean just for their sake.
He scrubbed the cauldron he was working on with vigour, wanting to get this over with, even if his arm was starting to hurt. "This is greasier than him."
Draco was really not pulling his weight. They weren't allowed to leave until everything was cleaned and he had barely made a dent in his first task. He didn't fancy cleaning and he didn't see why Snape wasn't taking his side. This was a great injustice! He wouldn't be in this mess if it wasn't for Potter.
"You know, Potter, you've got a knack for scrubbing. Maybe you should quit here and go wash dishes for a living. A destiny more suited for the likes of you."
Heh. Good one, Malfoy. He thought to himself. Cause no one else was here to say it.
Harry was seething. Not because the joke was particularly good, it was particularly awful, really, but because it was Malfoy making it. He just hated the bloke and he felt he had every reason to. Still, he wasn't about to let him see that, so he just focused on what he was doing. "You are too weak and dainty for it, that's for sure."
Honestly, he did have experience washing dishes, of course he did. But he never appreciated a Dursley reminder, today was no exception.
It wasn't that he cared or anything, he just had to see for himself. That was all. He hadn't heard much about his family, Barty wasn't big on sharing that stuff - he kept saying he'd tell him later when he was stronger and better. Well, now he was and he had to know. It wasn't hard to sneak out, though he imagined sneaking back in would be harder.
Really, the true challenges was just coping with how much stuff had changed. Eighteen years... would his house even be his house any more?
If Sirius was alive then was it his or not? He wasn't so sure.
Approaching 12 grimmauld place was just... it was odd how scared he felt to go in there. He shouldn't, it was his home but he felt so out of sorts. He might look older but he felt the same. Young, scared, totally out of his depth. Not that he'd ever admit to that aloud but this was harder than expected.
As he let himself in, the first thing he noticed was how awful it looked. Seriously, did anyone dust? Merlin, mother would have lost her mind if she saw it in this state. He almost slipped off his shoes before catching himself and remembering that no, he was not just popping home. This was different. The place let him in but it didn't feel like home. Not really. It had never meant to him what homes meant to others but it was a place that was supposed to be his. Familiar and safe.
Wandering through the halls, he started to look around, doubting anyone was actually here. "Kreacher?" Maybe the elf hadn't left.
Sirius heard a voice in the silence of the house. Most people might have been alarmed, but Sirius was used to voices. Some in his head, some from whatever haunting misery was still trapped in this house, just like his mother.
He was lying on the ground in his old room, staring at the ceiling and abandoning a bottle of fire whiskey when he sat up. It was likely to be nothing, but he couldn't dismiss it either. Could be important. Could be dangerous. Could just be in his head and further proof of how gone he was, that too.
He stared at the door and frowned, imagining that he could hear footsteps. Actually hearing footsteps. Wand in hand, he rose to his feet, quietly making his way out the door. Just enough to see movement. Then he didn't hesitate. "STUPEFY!"
If it was an Order member who just forgot to properly announce themselves, they deserved to be stunned too.
Sirius rushed down the stairs, moving next to where the man had fallen. He still didn't recognise him as an ally, so it was the logical next step to use another spell to bind him, only then actually using a tight grip on his shoulder to turn him around. He took the wand from the man and then stared at his face. Familiar. In the truest sense of the word.
Could he trust his own perception? Hardly. Too often had Harry looked like James to him. He knew his mind wasn't what it should be. With a scoff, Sirius moved to stand above the man, wand aimed at him as he cast a spell to wake him up.
Well. That hurt. Feeling a bit knocked sideways, Regulus groaned in pain and wondered if this was actually a good idea. Seemed brilliant in theory but in execution, quite dangerous. Probably should have told Barty or at least given him a heads up - left a note or something.
Unable to move his arms or legs, he left himself being rolled onto his back and looked up at the man looming over him. It took a few moments to even recognise him but there was no doubting who it was.
"Sirius?" He looked rougher than expected, bit older than he predicted too and he reeked of booze. Bloody hell, did he take a shower in whiskey or something? Recoiling a little, he tried to shuffle away and get some ground, some space to properly deal with this. What did he say to make this less insane.
"Sirius, it's me. Undo this at once! I can explain. I know this seems weird but it's me. It really is."
When Regulus appeared in the room, Barty was upon him in a second. Hands on his shoulder, eyes looking him up and down, concern open on his face the way emotions rarely were. And then, once he realised that Regulus seemed to be unharmed, that he even looked to be well, his eyes met Regulus' and he held his gaze, voice dangerously quiet. "Where were you?"
"Out. Had to see something for myself." Regulus knew that look meant nothing good but he stood his ground. No use being cowed down, he didn't fancy giving in today either. Barty should have told him so many things and he didn't, he was so hurt and angry over Sirius that he just wanted to explode. "I'm not your prisoner, I'm allowed to leave."
"Not my prisoner?" Barty repeated the words slowly and then he moved suddenly, his hand snatching Regulus' hair, a strong grip forcing his head back. He resisted the urge to reach for his wand, but his eyes stayed on Regulus and there was force in that too. "You don't even know what it means to be prisoner, darling. I'd never imprison you. I have given you a second chance and you? You want to throw it all away? What's next, it's none of my business where you go? When I've tied my entire existence to yours? When I've given up everything for you?"
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png){kind=small}
no subject
And then, of course, they had also met without masks, on their own behest. Like the times he had been in Malfoy Manor before. Back then he had been young, the youngest for a while even. Holding a lot of promise, but his Lord didn't want to favour him in front of the others, at least not yet. He had to prove himself. He had to navigate these powerful people, show that he was not his father's son. Show himself for who he really was.
And he had. He had in so many more ways than anyone had predicted and now when he walked through the manor, it wasn't him having to act as if he respected the others. It was them respecting him. Fearing him. Barty was enjoying the contrast. The present was better than the past. That hadn't been true in a long, long time, but here he was now.
Of course, he still couldn't sleep easily. Nightmares haunted him and shadows of the past pulled on his mind. And so it was that he walked around at night, for no particular reason, waiting for his restless soul to settle down. Instead he caught sight of Draco Malfoy. And he smiled.
What was the boy doing up at this hour? Well, he could imagine. A lot of things weighing at his mind too.
"Malfoy." He said the name and there was a sneer in it and no need to mask it. "What are you up to?"
no subject
Namely that life wasn't easy or simple and he really didn't like being a death eater.
No, really, he thought the cause was right and just but he just didn't like any part of it. He liked to be more of a backseat sort of fellow, not out in the centre. And yet, things kept conspiring against him. Everything kept backfiring. And he hated it.
He had been downstairs, trying to sneak a snack, food crammed in his pockets when Barty caught him out. God, no, not that psychopath. Really, Death Eaters and their cause attracted the most odious of people. Turning around slowly, Draco tried his best to not seem bothered by Barty's presence. Though he was. Big time. God, that sneer.
"Just walking about... it is our manor so--" So he should be allowed to go for a bloody walk.
no subject
It was fun, he thought. Reminding the boy of how he'd been his teacher. Especially because he punctuated the sentence by subtly moving his finger up and down, not unlike a certain bouncing ferret.
no subject
Yes, he was boldly flaunting that but, well, Barty was also a pureblood. Surely he got it. Wizards like them didn't have to try hard, not really. Even if his father yelled at him for bad grades, what was he going to do? Disown him? Pfft. He was the heir. "And I don't have a bed time." He did. Taking a big step back, he eyed up his escape plan. "If you'll excuse me..."
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
no subject
He approached the wall, tapped the stones in the right order. As the wall opened, he stepped through it.
The magic circle laid untouched. "Lumos."
Just enough light to see, so Barty stepped closer, looked inside the circle. The figure there, ghostly, transparent... So clearly Regulus by now. Down to the way his hair fell to the way he slept. Not just a ghost, no, Barty could sense it. Even now, just kneeling on the edge of the circle.
"Regulus?" He whispered the name, not sure what to expect. Perhaps nothing. But they were getting there, he knew that too. He had hope. A strange feeling to have.
no subject
It made everything so much harder. It was terrifying.
He couldn't grasp onto anything, he could steady himself in reality or form words for so long. It was like escaping a dark void and trying to crawl towards some source of light.
Today he felt so close to the edge, he could taste it. He heard someone call his name and knew the voice but not the name so he didn't know who to call to. He reached his hand out impulsively to try and push himself past that edge. "Help."
He didn't know where he was.
no subject
He wished he knew whether Regulus could understand him. No way to tell so far, but at least he was reacting. That was something. That was good. Regulus looked older than he had been when he'd last seen him, which was strange. Maybe it was just the way this state made him look or maybe he had somehow aged, even in limbo.
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
no subject
And so he ended up watching him eat, sitting on the bed with him, leaning back against the foot of the bed. Regulus looked better today. Less pale, more real. Good. They were getting there.
no subject
Once he finished up his last bite, he looked at Barty curiously. "Are you not hungry yourself?" Felt weird to be the only one eating. And also eating on a bed like some commoner.
no subject
It had been a long time ago since that had been true. "Are you ready for your recent history lesson?"
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
no subject
Both father and mother gave him some strict warnings to just try and avoid him.
Well, lot of good that did. Now he had a secret mission from the Dark Lord to complete with the psychopath. He was supposed to meet him outside at 11pm of all times, way past his not-official but actually official bedtime. Sulking and stalling as long as he could in his room, he finished preparing to go out, slipped on his shoes and made his way out. Two minutes late. He didn't fancy being on time, he was feeling particularly rebellious but not confident enough to push it to five minutes.
He wasn't completely crazy, after all.
no subject
Waiting for the idiot boy. He looked up when he finally made his way to him, less that impressed. "Can you read time, Malfoy?"
Evidently not.
no subject
"What are doing then? It's getting on a bit so let's be quick."
He wanted to lazy in bed, not be terrified to his core.
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
no subject
He looked up at Blaise, just the two of them in this carriage, mildly offended that Blaise seemed content not talking to him. How?
"So I got a new broom this year. Best model on the market."
Look at me.
no subject
Aside from the infamous year of the Firebolt, but he really, really, really didn't want to bring that up again. Although it was still a very nice broom, admittedly. Not that he really wanted to discuss that, least of all with Draco. "You think it's going to help you win?"
He hadn't been speaking English in a while, it still came a little slower than usual and some words were subtly off in their pronunciation. Whatever, everyone loved his accent.
no subject
"As long as I can knock Potter off his high horse, I'll be happy."
Grinning, Draco bounced a little. Oh, speaking of - time to put a certain doubt to rest. "Say, Blaise, you don't think I--I talk about Potter too much, do you?"
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
no subject
He scrubbed the cauldron he was working on with vigour, wanting to get this over with, even if his arm was starting to hurt. "This is greasier than him."
He hated this.
no subject
"You know, Potter, you've got a knack for scrubbing. Maybe you should quit here and go wash dishes for a living. A destiny more suited for the likes of you."
Heh. Good one, Malfoy. He thought to himself. Cause no one else was here to say it.
no subject
Honestly, he did have experience washing dishes, of course he did. But he never appreciated a Dursley reminder, today was no exception.
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
no subject
Really, the true challenges was just coping with how much stuff had changed. Eighteen years... would his house even be his house any more?
If Sirius was alive then was it his or not? He wasn't so sure.
Approaching 12 grimmauld place was just... it was odd how scared he felt to go in there. He shouldn't, it was his home but he felt so out of sorts. He might look older but he felt the same. Young, scared, totally out of his depth. Not that he'd ever admit to that aloud but this was harder than expected.
As he let himself in, the first thing he noticed was how awful it looked. Seriously, did anyone dust? Merlin, mother would have lost her mind if she saw it in this state. He almost slipped off his shoes before catching himself and remembering that no, he was not just popping home. This was different. The place let him in but it didn't feel like home. Not really. It had never meant to him what homes meant to others but it was a place that was supposed to be his. Familiar and safe.
Wandering through the halls, he started to look around, doubting anyone was actually here. "Kreacher?" Maybe the elf hadn't left.
no subject
He was lying on the ground in his old room, staring at the ceiling and abandoning a bottle of fire whiskey when he sat up. It was likely to be nothing, but he couldn't dismiss it either. Could be important. Could be dangerous. Could just be in his head and further proof of how gone he was, that too.
He stared at the door and frowned, imagining that he could hear footsteps. Actually hearing footsteps. Wand in hand, he rose to his feet, quietly making his way out the door. Just enough to see movement. Then he didn't hesitate. "STUPEFY!"
If it was an Order member who just forgot to properly announce themselves, they deserved to be stunned too.
Sirius rushed down the stairs, moving next to where the man had fallen. He still didn't recognise him as an ally, so it was the logical next step to use another spell to bind him, only then actually using a tight grip on his shoulder to turn him around. He took the wand from the man and then stared at his face. Familiar. In the truest sense of the word.
Could he trust his own perception? Hardly. Too often had Harry looked like James to him. He knew his mind wasn't what it should be. With a scoff, Sirius moved to stand above the man, wand aimed at him as he cast a spell to wake him up.
no subject
Unable to move his arms or legs, he left himself being rolled onto his back and looked up at the man looming over him. It took a few moments to even recognise him but there was no doubting who it was.
"Sirius?" He looked rougher than expected, bit older than he predicted too and he reeked of booze. Bloody hell, did he take a shower in whiskey or something? Recoiling a little, he tried to shuffle away and get some ground, some space to properly deal with this. What did he say to make this less insane.
"Sirius, it's me. Undo this at once! I can explain. I know this seems weird but it's me. It really is."
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
...
...
...
no subject
no subject
no subject
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)