Remedy

Best Friends

The notes of piano keys drifted slowly through the gloomy drawing room of Grimmauld as screaming echoed downstairs. The screams were barely audible over the familiar music being plucked out slowly by a wizard seated on the piano bench. An elegant dark grey cloak covered the wizard's back, and shoulder-length black hair shifted with his movements as his head seemed to follow his fingers. Sirius Black.

Even with his shoulders slightly slumped and his head down bent, there was an elegance about his figure as he slowly picked out keys of the familiar tune with one hand. Harry's heart thudded heavily in his chest as he watched the back of his godfather with a desperate yearning. It had been too brief a time having someone who seemed to care about him like Sirius had-almost like a father.

Those maggoty mud bloods will be the end of us all! Sirius didn't react to Walburga's scream, continuing to pick out notes on the piano.

"I didn't know you played the piano," Harry stated, his voice sounding strange to himself. His voice was strained from the emotion building in his chest as he stared at his godfather's back.

"I don't," Sirius replied, not turning. "My mother tried to make me learn, but I refused."

Rotten, filthy wizard, you'll get what's coming to you!

As the notes drifted lazily through the air, Harry remembered that feeling in third year when he had stood next to Sirius briefly. Before things had gone so terribly wrong. The way Sirius had looked at him as if he already cared for Harry. How different would things be if he hadn't rushed to the Department of Mysteries that one fateful night?

The tune picked up, and Harry finally recognized it. Fur Elise. Hermione had spent hours trying to teach it to Ron when they had been hiding here...

"I miss you." His throat tightened when he tried to speak again, some giant invisible hand choking off his words, preventing him from asking the question he was so desperate to know the answer to.

The question that made him feel like he was shattering from the inside whenever he thought about it.

Do you blame me? It was my fault, wasn't it?

"Not at all," Sirius said as if he heard Harry, not turning around. "Don't worry over me, Harry. Death is easy." Sly humor crept into his voice as he continued. "Quicker and easier than falling asleep." His hands slowed further on the keys as he reached the end of the piece. The last note lingered in the air. "It's living that's hard."

Harry's eyes snapped open as he woke up in Hermione's dark bedroom, his chest aching. He drew in a ragged breath, trying to control his wild emotions to keep himself from bursting into tears like a kid. He sat up quickly his legs shifting as he tried not to jar Hermione. An annoyed yowl echoed through the room as he dislodged Crookshanks from his comfy spot at his and Hermione's feet.

His voice was ragged, his nostrils flared as he tried to control his breathing. "Sorry, Crookshanks."

"Harry?" Hermione asked sleepily, shifting closer to him. "You okay?"

"Yeah." He said, the hoarseness of his voice and shaky breathing betraying the lie. He shifted further away from Hermione, throwing his legs over the side of the bed to get up so he wouldn't disturb her further.

Hermione reached for him, her hand curling into the side of his nightshirt and tugging to get him to lie back down. "Come back to bed, Harry."

Harry stayed sitting at the edge of the bed for a minute trying to make himself get up and walk away. Hermione's hand tugged again at the edge of his nightshirt, softly whispering his name. He let himself get pulled back by her laying down and Hermione shifted around him.