Posted originally on the Archive_of_Our_Own at https://archiveofourown.org/
works/13690140.
  Rating:
      Explicit
  Archive Warning:
      Underage
  Category:
      F/M, M/M, Multi
  Fandom:
      Harry_Potter_-_J._K._Rowling
  Relationship:
      Viktor_Krum/Harry_Potter
  Character:
      Harry_Potter, Sirius_Black, Albus_Dumbledore, Viktor_Krum, Ron_Weasley,
      Draco_Malfoy, Severus_Snape, Remus_Lupin, Voldemort
  Additional Tags:
      Alternate_Universe_-_BDSM, Soulmate_AU, lots_of_other_tags_to_come,
      seriously_this_story_will_eventually_be_full_of_them, but_what_i_have_to
      post_at_this_moment_is_tame, Incomplete, Read_at_Your_Own_Risk
  Series:
      Part 2 of Evil_Author_Day_2018
  Stats:
      Published: 2018-02-15 Chapters: 4/? Words: 13882
****** Transfer of Control ******
by Nahiel
Summary
     During Christmas break of Harry's fifth year, he becomes very ill,
     and Sirius seems to be the only one to recognize what the disease is.
     Harry is a Sub who has met his soulmate, and because the bond wasn't
     consummated before they parted ways, it's killing him. Since
     Dumbledore doesn't seem to know or care, Sirius decides that he has
     to take action, and in doing so, changes the tides of the war for
     just about everyone.
Notes
     This story is a part of my Evil Author Day set for 2018 (Evil Author
     Day being an event started by one of my favorite writers, wherein
     works are posted incomplete in all their incomplete glory). It may
     never be finished, and as such, is a read at your own risk. It is
     posted here, unedited, in all of its glory. Please do not ask me for
     updates regarding this story, or any other story in the Evil Author
     Day series.
***** Chapter 1 *****
Harry woke up, his heart pounding and his body aching.  He didn’t know what was
wrong with him.  His eyes were blurry, and not just because he wasn’t wearing
his glasses.  Beside him, Ron snored away as peacefully as he ever did.
 
Harry’s chest felt tight, his heart felt fluttery.  Everything felt off, wrong.
 It jangled inside of him, discordant notes that he couldn’t begin to explain.
 Each beat of his heart felt wrong.  Wrong.  Wrong.  He needed…
 
He closed his eyes and forced himself to take a deep breath.  He didn’t need
anything.  He was fine.  This was all in his head.  Maybe it was a reaction to
what had happened with Voldemort last year, maybe… maybe…
 
He wondered if it was possible for wizards to get PTSD like Muggles did.  Was
that a thing?  He didn’t know.  But then… PTSD had the word ‘post’ there, right
in the name.  Harry rubbed at his hand.  It wasn’t really post if the insanity
continued, was it?
 
He laid back down, tried to go back to sleep.  He even closed his eyes, but his
heart still felt wrong.  Everything felt wrong, and he was so tired of trying
to figure out why.  It had been all year, even before the strange visions of
the door had started, before his Occlumency lessons, before Umbridge.  Really,
before the school year had even started.  Harry thought, anyway.  He was almost
certain of it.
 
He didn’t know anything anymore, to be perfectly honest.  
 
He tried to blank his mind, tried to sleep, but it wasn’t working.  Ron’s
snoring was cutting through him like a knife, and combined with the jangling
wrongness inside of him that never seemed to stop, sleep just wasn’t going to
happen.  With a sigh, tired and unhappy, Harry sat up and reached for his
glasses.  He hadn’t slept right in weeks, not really.  Longer, even.  If it
wasn’t nightmares, if it wasn’t the strange door dream, it was this.  This…
wrongness .
 
He hated it.  
 
It hadn’t happened since he’d come to Grimmauld Place for the holidays, so he’d
hoped that it would leave him alone during the holidays.  Didn’t he deserve at
least one happy Christmas in all of this awfulness?  But no.  He couldn’t
possibly be so lucky.
 
He slipped out of bed and headed down the stairs, his body aching with
exhaustion and the wrong feeling that never left him alone, no matter how hard
he tried.  He headed for the kitchen, hoping that maybe if he got a drink or
something it would go away.  Warm milk was allegedly supposed to help with
things like this, wasn’t it?  Insomnia?  Or maybe… maybe Sirius would have a
potion that would do something for him, if his godfather was even still awake.
 It was three o’clock in the morning, after all.
 
The kitchen was dark when he arrived; Kreacher wasn’t even anywhere to be
found.  That meant no potion, but it also meant no one to bother him and ask
him what was wrong.  Harry wasn’t sure, couldn’t begin to explain it, couldn’t
explain anything at all, but the thought of explaining what was wrong…
 
He shivered.  He was getting cold, for some reason.  It was ridiculous.  He was
perfectly warm and he knew it.  He had on thick pajamas, and thick slippers.
 And Grimmauld Place was insulated far better than Hogwarts ever could have
been.  There was no way for Harry to be cold.  It was all in his head.  Just
like the wrongness.  Just like the fluttering in his heart, the anxiety,
everything.
 
He forced his breath out through his lips.  He was fine, and he knew it.  He
had to stop worrying like this.  It would all be fine as soon as he just got
some sleep.
 
He would never sleep again.
 
The thought rang through his head with such certainty that Harry couldn’t help
but let out a small gasp as his chest seized.  He clutched at his heart, which
ached more fiercely than it ever had in the past.  What was wrong with him?  He
doubled over and couldn’t help the pained noise that escaped him.
 
“Harry!”  Strong hands landed on his shoulders as his godfather’s voice rang
out.  “Are you okay?  What’s wrong?”
 
“I’m fine,” Harry gasped out.  He was fine.  He had to be fine.  This would all
pass, just as soon as he got some sleep.  Merlin, he needed sleep.
 
“Don’t lie to me!” Sirius snapped.
 
The words struck Harry like a blow, and he felt his knees giving out.  He let
out a small, tiny cry, tears welling in his eyes.  He couldn’t stop it, no
matter how much he wanted to.  The tears overflowed, even as he found himself
dropping to his knees, his whole body trembling.  “I-I’m sorry,” he gasped out
around the lump that had formed in his throat.  “Sirius, I’m sorry!”  He needed
Sirius to know.  To understand.  He hadn’t meant to lie, he hadn’t meant to be
bad… he was trying so hard!
 
Immediately, Sirius’ tone gentled.  “Of course you are,” he said softly,
sweetly.  Sirius followed him to the ground and wrapped his arms around Harry,
pulling him into a close, secure hold.  “Of course you’re sorry.  It’s okay,”
he murmured, his embrace strong and oddly grounding.
 
“I’m so sorry,” Harry babbled, unable to stop himself.  Sirius had to know.  He
had to believe him!
 
“I do believe you,” Sirius breathed in his ear.  “It’s okay, Harry, just
breathe for me.  Everything’s okay.  We’re gonna get you sorted.”  His arms
tightened even further, almost to the point of pain.  Harry should have been
uncomfortable.  He should have been pulling away, but he didn’t.  He leaned
even closer.  It was so strangely grounding… he couldn’t have pulled away even
if his life had been at stake.
 
“Close your eyes for me, Harry,” Sirius said.  His voice was gentle, but firm.
 The words were a clear order, and Harry found his eyes drifting closed
entirely against his will.  “That’s a good boy.”  Sirius’ voice shook on the
last word, but Harry didn’t mind.  His breathing was evening out.  Sirius was
happy with him.  He wasn’t in trouble.
 
He was a good boy.  “What’s wrong with me?” he asked, his voice tiny.  He had
no idea what was the matter with him, but he was an absolute mess and he knew
it.  Maybe he’d been cursed?
 
“We’ll talk about this in the morning,” Sirius whispered, his own voice choked.
 “After you’ve had some rest, and you’re feeling a little bit better.”
 
“I can’t sleep, Sirius.”  Harry knew that he sounded like he was begging,
because he wanted to sleep so badly.  “I haven’t in forever.  I keep trying,
but there are the dreams, and if there aren’t the dreams there’s this feeling
of wrongness, and I don’t know what’s the matter with me.  Sirius, can’t you
tell me what’s wrong with me?”
 
“In the morning,” Sirius promised again.  “You’ll sleep for me tonight, Harry,
I promise.”
 
“You’ll give me a potion?”  Harry’s throat ached at the thought.  He needed it,
and knew that he was about to start crying again.
 
“You won’t need one.  You just need to trust me.  Do you?”
 
“Of course.”  Harry was offended that Sirius had felt the need to ask.  Or he
would have been, had he had any energy left at all to be offended about
anything.  He didn’t.  He was so tired, so broken down.  He didn’t know what
was wrong with him, but he still trusted Sirius.
 
“Then trust me when I promise you that you’re going to sleep tonight,” Sirius
said to him, and Harry felt his godfather’s lips brush against his forehead.
 “I’ll take care of you tonight.”  Then Sirius’ hands shifted, and his hands
blocked Harry’s ears.  He still heard Sirius when his godfather bellowed,
“KREACHER!”
 
“Master mutt calls for Kreacher?” the elf’s voice hissed out, disapproving as
always.
 
“Gather Harry’s things.  All of them.  Harry will no longer be sleeping here.”
 
Harry was confused.  Where else would he be sleeping?  He hadn’t been sleeping
anyway, of course, but that… that didn’t mean that he didn’t want to know where
he was supposed to be sleeping.  Still, he trusted Sirius.  He leaned into his
godfather and kept his eyes closed.  
 
He trusted Sirius.
 
“And where should Kreacher transport Master halfblood’s things to?”
 
“Take them to the Manor, Kreacher.  And you are ordered to not tell anyone
where we’ve gone.”  There was a popping sound, as Kreacher presumably left to
do Sirius’ bidding.  Then Sirius stood up, taking Harry with him.
 
Harry tried to support himself, but found that it was far too hard.  He didn’t
want to.  He wanted Sirius to hold him, but he was too old for that.  He forced
himself to pull away, but swayed on his feet.  He was tired, so very tired.  He
opened his eyes, finally, and found himself staring at his godfather, who
looked just… gutted.  He’d never seen Sirius look as sad as he did right then,
and Harry ached to soothe him.  He didn’t know why, didn’t understand, but
there it was.
 
“It’s okay,” Sirius said, and tried on a smile.  It looked awkward on his
haggard face, but at least it softened the jagged edges of his sorrow.  “We’re
gonna take care of you tonight, Harry.  And then we’ll go from there, okay?”
 
“Okay,” Harry whispered.  He didn’t know what to say.  It was so easy to agree
with Sirius.  So painless.  He swayed forward again.
 
This time, Sirius’ arms locked around him once more.  “I’m going to Apparate
us, okay?  It’s going to feel odd, and you’re probably not going to like it.
 But it’s the only way to reach the Manor right now, since it’s locked under
Blood Wards.”
 
Harry didn’t know what that meant, but he nodded and closed his eyes and leaned
closer to Sirius.  If that was even really possible.  He felt something
suddenly, a twisting and squeezing sensation that made his stomach churn.  It
was absolutely awful, and Harry couldn’t help it when he jerked away from
Sirius after the sensation ended and threw up what little dinner he’d managed
to eat in the first place.
 
Sirius stroked his hair through it, whispering soothing things, and when it
stopped and Harry’s cheeks were flushed with shame rather than nausea, Sirius
said to him, “It’s okay.  It happens frequently when a wizard first Apparates.
 It’s nothing to be ashamed of.”  As he spoke, he pulled Harry carefully away
from the puddle of vomit and steered him from the entrance hall.
 
Harry knew that he would be interested in wherever they’d wound up later, but
not right now.  Not when he was so tired and wrong and broken.  “You said I
would sleep tonight?” he asked, his voice tiny and broken.
 
“I promised that you would sleep tonight,” Sirius responded immediately.  “I
promised that I would take care of you, and I’m going to.  Don’t worry about
it, Harry.  It’s all going to be okay.”
 
Harry let out a shuddering sigh, the words sinking into him with a force he
didn’t understand.  He allowed himself to be led from the room and up a set of
stairs, and didn’t complain as he was led up yet another set of stairs and then
into a bedroom.  His mouth tasted like vomit, but as he was pressed into a
soft, warm, unknown bed, he didn’t care.  His limbs felt like lead and his eyes
ached from staying open.
 
He stared up at Sirius as his godfather tucked him under the covers, his eyes
fluttering closed entirely against his will when he felt a gentle hand land in
his hair and begin to stroke.  “Go to sleep, Harry,” Sirius said, his words
heavy with a weight that Harry couldn’t begin to understand.  “Go to sleep for
me.”
 
Harry didn’t understand why his eyes were now unopenable, why his body eagerly
responded to the command.  He didn’t know why he found himself spiralling down
into sleep, the feeling of wrongness inside of him easing at Sirius’ order.  It
didn’t make any sense.
 
But then Harry was asleep, and it didn’t matter anymore.
 
                                  ooOOooOOoo
 
Sirius continued to stroke Harry’s hair with a gentle, carefully rhythmic hand,
that very studiously didn’t shake because Sirius was incredibly focused on
making sure that it didn’t shake.  As soon as Harry’s eyes had closed, as soon
as his breathing had evened out, Sirius found his lips curling into a snarl
that he couldn’t suppress.
 
He breathed through his rage until he was certain that Harry was deeply asleep.
 Then he set a charm on Harry, so that he would be alerted if his command
wasn’t enough, and stood up, his hands shaking in rage.  He closed the door
slowly, carefully, so that Harry wouldn’t be startled awake, and then Sirius
stalked off down the stairs.
 
He snapped for Kreacher once he reached a sitting room decorated with what had
to be thousands of galleons worth of antiques, and when the elf appeared before
him, Sirius snarled, “Harry was sick in the entrance hall.  Clean it up.”
 
“Will Master mutt be staying at Black Manor?” the elf asked.
 
Sirius let out a low snarl and aimed a blasting curse at a vase that sat on a
nearby pedestal.  It exploded into a million shards, and Sirius felt better for
the sight of the destruction.  “For now,” he told the startled house elf.  “You
aren’t to tell anyone where I am, Kreacher.”
 
“Kreacher understands,” the elf said, and bowed.  “If Kreacher may say, it is a
pleasure to see Master Sirius acting like a true pureblood, taking care of such
a fragile submissive.”
 
The elf popped away before Sirius could respond, but he aimed another curse at
some other undoubtedly priceless artifact with a snarl.  It shattered, and
Sirius threw another curse as soon as the last one had landed.  Then he threw
another and another and another, until the room was laid to ruin.  His
breathing came in harsh pants and his rage still simmered inside of him.
 
How long had Dumbledore known?
 
The question wouldn’t leave Sirius alone.  His godson was a submissive, and he
hadn’t seen it.  But then, how could he have seen it?  He didn’t know Harry,
not really.  Dumbledore had always been so very careful to keep him away from
his godson aside from occasional conversations that would never have been
enough to tell.  Not until now, when his godson was sick with what was very
likely bondrot.  Merlin, what if it was bondrot?
 
What if his godson had found his dominant, his soulmate?  What if that was what
was making him so sick?  Harry didn’t even have the vocabulary…
 
But of course he didn’t.  Sirius’ lips curled into a snarl and he aimed another
curse at an already destroyed couch.  It was satisfying to watch the fluff
explode into the air once more, but not as satisfying as it would have been to
see Dumbledore’s blood flying.
 
Sirius wasn’t a fool.  He knew exactly what Dumbledore had been doing, and he
could kill him for using Harry to further his agenda.  He’d never been as much
of a supporter as James and Lily had, never would have given up his submissive
if he’d ever met him or her, never would have…
 
He breathed out.  James and Lily, no matter how much they’d supported
Dumbledore, wouldn’t want their son to waste away under the effects of bondrot.
 No matter what.  If that was what it was…
 
He would figure out a way to explain it all to Harry.
 
It wouldn’t be easy, he knew, but he would figure it out.  He would manage it,
because Harry deserved to understand what had happened to him.  What was wrong
with him, why he felt so sick.  And if Harry didn’t understand what was causing
it, if they didn’t figure out when it started and figure out who it was
connected to, then Harry might… he might die.  And Sirius couldn’t tolerate
that thought.
 
His godson was all that he had left.  Yes, he had Remus, who was still a
friend, but… but sometimes Sirius couldn’t forget how willingly Remus had
believed that he’d betrayed James and Lily, had believed that he’d kill Muggles
while going after Peter.  When he let himself focus on that, it hurt more than
anything.
 
But Harry… his godson had never betrayed him.  So Sirius would return the
favor.  His godson was his world, now, especially since he’d never found his
own submissive.  He would take care of Harry, the way that James and Lily would
have wanted him to if they’d still been around.
 
It was why he’d been named godfather, after all.  They’d trusted him with
Harry, and he wasn’t going to let them down.  He would die first.
 
Sirius took a breath and finally got ahold of his temper, just in time for
Kreacher to reappear in the ruins of the room.
 
The house elf didn’t even look startled at the level of damage he found in the
room.  “Kreacher took the liberty of bringing some of Master Sirius’ things and
putting them in the master bedroom.  Master half… Master Harry’s things are in
a spare room, until Master Sirius tells Kreacher where to put them.”
 
“Thank you,” Sirius said with a small exhalation of breath.  “Clean up this
mess, Kreacher.  Save what can be saved, and throw the rest out.  I’ll be going
to sit with Harry until he wakes up.  Bring me tea once you’ve cleaned the
room.”
 
The house elf bowed, his ears low on his head.  Sirius couldn’t be sure, but
given Kreacher’s suddenly changed attitude and the genuine respect in his eyes,
at least Kreacher approved of what he was doing.  Whatever the hell that meant.
 
Sirius shook off the thought and started for the stairs, just as the charm he
had on Harry alerted him to a change in Harry’s sleep.  It seemed that he was
starting to wake up, either from a nightmare or from something else.  It had
barely been an hour.
 
Sirius breathed out and took the stairs two at a time.  It took him only a few
moments to order Harry back into a deeper sleep, soothing him with gentle hands
on his hair and soft words.  As Harry drifted off once more, soon enough that
he probably wouldn’t remember the brief interlude when he woke for real, Sirius
let himself sag a little bit.
 
This would be a long night, but he was willing to spend the entire night with
Harry just so that his godson could get the rest he so dearly needed.
 
                                  ooOOooOOoo
 
Ron woke up with a small snort, then sat up and scrubbed at his eyes.  He
blinked himself awake the rest of the way, then turned to Harry’s bed.  He
wasn’t at all surprised to find it empty.  Harry hadn’t been sleeping well, not
since… not since he’d gotten back from the summer holidays, really, not that
Ron could blame him.
 
He wouldn’t sleep well either, not when Voldemort had nearly killed Harry
again.
 
He couldn’t believe how stupid he’d been to be jealous of Harry.  What had he
been thinking?  Fame wasn’t worth all the difficulties Harry had with
everything.  Ron still wanted to be famous, but not if it meant going through
what Harry was going through, what with that madman trying to kill him more
often than not.
 
He stood, stretched, then headed downstairs for breakfast, his stomach
growling.  He was surprised to find that Harry wasn’t sitting at the table with
everyone else, and to find that Sirius was also missing.  That was… weird,
actually.  Very weird.
 
“Harry didn’t want breakfast?” he asked.  Harry hadn’t been eating as much as
he might have once, but he hadn’t thought that Harry was skipping meals
entirely.  At the very least, Harry normally joined them while they all ate.
 
His mother, though, was frowning.  “He’s still asleep,” she said slowly.  “We
haven’t seen him down here at all today.”
 
Ron shook his head.  “No he’s not.”  He looked around again, half expecting to
spot Harry skulking in a corner.  He did that sometimes.  Not often, but
sometimes.  “He wasn’t in bed when I got up.  Honestly, I doubt he slept much
at all.”
 
“And we haven’t seen Sirius all morning, either,” Professor Lupin said slowly,
his eyes going dark and his gaze going someplace far away.  “What are the
chances… Sirius wouldn’t…”
 
“You think Sirius and Harry snuck out?” Ron’s mother practically shrieked, her
hands flying to her mouth.  “They wouldn’t!  It’s too dangerous!  Harry, at the
very least, would know better!”
 
“Yeah, but where could they be hiding?” Professor Lupin pointed out.
 
There was a long, silent moment as everyone considered the question, and then
everyone who had been eating exploded into action, leaving Ron standing in the
middle of the room, still half-asleep and a bit confused.  Was Harry missing?
 Is that what was happening?
 
It wasn’t long at all before it was confirmed.  Both Harry and Sirius were
missing, and Sirius had probably taken Harry out of the house for reasons that
nobody could begin to imagine.
 
Ron would have been less perturbed at the knowledge if he’d been given time to
eat before the worried frenzy had begun, but whatever.  He’d be fine, missing
one meal.  Maybe.  He was a growing boy, after all.
***** Chapter 2 *****
 
Harry’s eyes fluttered open almost reluctantly, and he found himself blinking
up at a blurry, unfamiliar ceiling.  He reached for his glasses, which should
have been on the nightstand beside him, but there wasn’t actually a nightstand
there for him to grab them from.
 
Harry frowned and tried to sit up, only for Sirius’ face to appear in his view
and for Sirius’ gentle hands to push him back onto the bed.  Harry blinked up
at his godfather, too tired to really fight to sit up.  His godfather then
carefully put Harry’s glasses on for him.
 
“How are you feeling?” Sirius asked quietly, his voice oddly gentle.
 
“Better,” Harry said.  He was surprised by how roughly his own voice came out,
and by the fact that it hurt a little to speak.  He swallowed to try and clear
it.  “Much better,” he tried.  It was still rough, but not as bad.  He still
felt  wrong  in a way that he just couldn’t explain, but it was better than it
had been.  Not by much, and the more he focused on it the worse it got.
 
“I’m glad,” Sirius said.  “Let me help you sit up.”  The words had a small note
of command to them, one that Harry didn’t quite know how he felt about.
 
In spite of his uncertainty, he found that he didn’t mind when his godfather’s
hands, which had still been resting on his shoulders, helped him into a sitting
position.  His head spun once he was upright, and Harry had to close his eyes
against the sudden browning out at the edges of his vision.  “Sorry,” he said,
when he realized that he’d almost blacked out.
 
“It’s okay.”  Sirius stroked his hair with gentle fingers, then pulled back.
 Harry felt strangely cold without his godfather’s hands on him and found
himself shivering in response.  “You’re not well, and that’s not your fault.
 You’re probably dizzy because you’re hungry, particularly after not eating
much last night.”
 
Harry didn’t shake his head, knowing that it would only make his dizziness
worse.  Instead, he said quietly, “I don’t think that I can eat.”  He’d tried
so many times before and never had any success, after all.  Honestly, this was
worse than trying to recover from being with the Dursleys, particularly since
he hadn’t even managed to do that this year.
 
“I think that you need to try,” Sirius said immediately.  “Kreacher’s prepared
a light breakfast for you, and Harry, it would make me so very happy if you
could eat something for me.”
 
There was something in Sirius’ voice, something that Harry still couldn’t quite
identify, that made Harry want to do exactly as Sirius asked of him.  He needed
to do it in a way that he just couldn’t explain, and it was making him…
uncomfortable, to say the least.  “What’s wrong with me?” Harry asked, just as
he’d asked last night, his voice small.
 
“Nothing’s wrong with you,” Sirius started, and stopped when Harry glowered at
him.  Then his godfather sighed, and to Harry’s eyes it almost appeared that
the man aged several decades in the space of a few breaths.  “Nothing’s wrong
with you that we can’t fix,” he amended.  “One way or another.”  His voice was
oddly grim as he added that last bit, his grey eyes going distant.
 
“But what is it?” Harry’s voice went high on the last word, because this was
going to drive him mad.  Sirius clearly knew that something was wrong with him,
clearly had an excellent idea of what that something was, and wasn’t telling
him!  That wasn’t… it wasn’t nice.  It wasn’t a lot of things, and Harry really
didn’t appreciate it.
 
“I’m going to explain it to you,” Sirius said hastily.  “I swear that I will,
Harry.  But you need to try and eat for me first.  I don’t think that you’ll
feel like trying to do so after.”
 
Harry gritted his teeth.  The urge to give in and do exactly what Sirius wanted
was… powerful.  Powerful enough that he found himself opening his mouth to
agree with him, to do as he was told.  He bit that urge back, fought it with
everything he had.  “I want to know now,” he snarled.
 
Sirius drew himself up in the chair he’d been slumped in, his back going
straight and his eyes narrowing.  “I’ll thank you to rethink your tone, Harry,”
he said sharply.  There was something dangerous in his voice, something low and
dark and… and frightening, and Harry’s desire to resist vanished as though it
had never been.
 
He flinched and huddled in on himself, and as soon as he’d done so, the strange
and oppressive aura that had infused the room disappeared.   “Sorry,” Harry
whispered.
 
Sirius slumped as well.  “No, Harry, I’m sorry.”  Sirius stood and Harry felt
the bed dip beside him as Sirius settled next to him, his presence warm and
solid beside Harry.  “I know how confusing all of this must be for you, and I’m
so sorry that I frightened you.”  His breath caught like he’d been planning on
saying something else, but stopped midway through whatever it was.
 
“I just…”  Harry sighed and sagged and let himself lean into Sirius.  His
godfather was warm and steady, and even though nothing made sense and Harry was
frightened, he still trusted that Sirius had his best interests at heart.  “I’m
frightened,” he said, his voice small.  “I don’t know what’s wrong with me, and
whatever it is keeps getting worse, and I… I just…”
 
“I know,” Sirius whispered.  His godfather pressed a kiss to his forehead, soft
and gentle.  “I know you’re scared, but I promise, this is all going to be
okay.  Can you at least try to eat something for me while we talk about what’s
going on with you?”
 
Harry didn’t want to try.  He wasn’t even sure that he could keep anything else
down, but…  but Sirius really wasn’t asking for that much, was he?  He was just
asking for Harry to try.  “I can try,” he finally said.  He hoped that he
wasn’t lying.
 
“Good boy.”  Sirius summoned Kreacher then, while Harry was still reeling from
the strange effects the words had on him.  Why did those words make him feel so
much better?  Why did they make him feel less shaky, less fragile?  It didn’t
make any sense!
 
He’d just opened his mouth to ask Sirius for clarification when Kreacher
appeared with a covered platter of food.  He placed the tray on Harry’s lap
with careful hands, probably as gentle as Harry had ever seen the house elf.
 And then, oddly, Kreacher said nothing, and actually bowed to Sirius before
popping away once more.
 
Harry took the lid off of the platter and frowned down at the food.  It was, as
Sirius had promised, light.  It was some kind of oatmeal that smelled sweet,
but not too sweet, and a small bowl of yoghurt with some berries in it.  There
were a few corners of toast as well, all perfectly toasted and buttered
lightly.  Harry swallowed, then picked up one of the toast corners and nibbled
on it.  When his stomach didn’t immediately rebel, he tried out the yogurt.  It
wasn’t… easy, eating, and his stomach still kept trying to complain, but
eventually it settled enough that Harry could eat most of what was on the tray.
 
Once he’d finished the toast and the oatmeal and had mostly finished the yogurt
and fruit, Sirius began to speak.  “Tell me what you know about dynamics within
the wizarding world.”
 
Harry frowned.  “You mean about the fight between Voldemort and the MInistry?”
he asked.  Because he knew… more than most people did about that particular
subject.  Why would Sirius be asking him about that?
 
“No, Harry,” Sirius said, his voice gentle.  “I’m talking about dominants and
submissives.”
 
Harry shook his head.  “Nothing,” he said honestly, a bit blankly.
 
“And soulmating?  Bondrot?” Sirius prodded, and sounded almost a little
desperate.
 
Harry just shook his head once more and ate the rest of his yogurt.  There was
a glass of juice that he’d left untouched and, now that his stomach felt mostly
fine, he took a sip of it and closed his eyes as the tart sweetness burst over
his tongue.  He smiled.  It had been what felt like forever since he’d enjoyed
food.
 
Sirius breathed out beside him, the sound oddly heavy.  “Okay.”  He muttered
something, but Harry didn’t quite catch it.  He thought Sirius said something
about it being practically criminal, but didn’t know what the ‘it’ in question
was.  Before he could ask, Sirius continued.  “There are three types of people
in the wizarding world, and all human users of magic fall into one of three
categories: dominant, submissive, or switch.”
 
Harry’s brow furrowed.  He still wasn’t entirely certain where Sirius was going
with this, but he supposed that Sirius would explain everything soon enough.
 
“Every witch or wizard also has a soulmate, although oftentimes they go their
entire lives without meeting him or her.  A submissive, Harry, is the one who
feels the mating bond when it clicks into place.  If the bond isn’t fulfilled
before the dominant and submissive part ways, the submissive will go into a
state we call bondrot.  It’s a slow state, one that can take up to a year
before reaching its final stages, but once it begins it can only be stopped by
the soulmates bonding.”
 
Harry frowned down at the now-empty tray.  “And you think… you think that I’m
submissive, and that I’ve got this… this bondrot?”  Nothing else made sense.
 But Harry… didn’t think he was particularly submissive.  And he still wasn’t
entirely sure about what, exactly, Sirius meant by dominant and submissive.
 
“I know that you’re submissive,” Sirius corrected gently.  “There are… signs.
 You responded very well last night when I told you what to do, and even now,
you’re responding… pretty classically, actually, for a submissive in a… fragile
state.”
 
Harry bristled.  “I’m not fragile,” he said sharply.  Sirius just looked at
him, and Harry flinched and dropped his gaze.  “I’m not,” he said again,
stubbornly.
 
Sirius’ laugh was soft and choked, like he was trying not to let it out.  “Of
course not,” he said soothingly.  “But Harry, I do need to know if you ever
felt a click like the one I described.”
 
Harry just stared at him blankly.  “But I don’t know what do you just
described,” he said.  “You didn’t really describe anything at all.”
 
Sirius winced.  “Well, the problem is that I’m not a submissive, and I’ve never
met my soulmate.”  He hesitated, then said quietly, “Your father, when he met
Lily, he said that it was like everything he’d never known he was missing
falling into place all at once.”
 
Harry shivered, because that sounded… that sounded wonderful, actually.  But…
 “I’m sorry,” he whispered.  “I don’t think that I’ve ever felt anything like
that.”  If he had, he had no idea when it had happened.  “Sirius, what does
that mean?”
 
“It doesn’t mean anything,” Sirius said quickly.  Too quickly, and Harry felt a
dawning sense of dread.
 
“Sirius, what happens in the last stages of bondrot?” Harry asked, his voice
urgent.  “Am I… am I going to get worse?”  He knew that he’d been… very bad off
before Sirius had taken control of him, but what else could happen?  Could he…
could he die from this?
 
Harry felt tears springing to his eyes and he closed them to try and stop the
tears from falling.  It didn’t quite work, and he found himself sniffling
helplessly and scrubbing at his closed eyes.  He felt the tray taken from his
lap, felt his godfather pull him close, holding him tightly.  
 
“It’s going to be okay,” Sirius breathed.
 
His voice was so warm, so certain, that Harry wanted nothing other than to
believe him.  But the creeping sense of wrongness was back, and Harry somehow
had the idea that it was never going to be okay again.  He cried until he could
cry no more in Sirius’ embrace, and once he’d stopped, Harry didn’t even
protest when Sirius helped him go to sleep once more.  He just didn’t have the
energy to try and fight off the sleep that Sirius was suggesting.
 
                                  ooOOooOOoo
 
Sirius waited until he was certain that Harry was asleep before drawing
carefully away from him and settling him onto the bed once more.  “Kreacher,”
he called quietly, and the elf appeared silently.  “Take his tray, and then
stay with him.  I need to go and get some more information.”
 
The elf bowed to him once more.  “Of course, Master Sirius,” the elf said
quickly.  “Shall I call you if he wakes in distress?”
 
“Please,” Sirius said quickly.  “If he wakes and seems fine, he can bathe or
shower, but then he should return immediately to his bed.  He’s… not well.”
 
And would continue to get worse.  Sirius was certain of it now.  His godson was
in bondrot, and, what was worse, it seemed to be fairly advanced.  He couldn’t
tell if it was because Harry had met his soulmate two years ago, or if it was
because his godson had been in poor health before the bondrot had begun.
 Either way, it was imperative that he find out who, exactly, Harry had bonded
with.
 
He Apparated from the house and back to Grimmauld Place as soon as Kreacher was
settled with Harry, and was immediately surrounded by a small mob of redheaded
Weasleys, Remus, and the Headmaster himself.  Questions were fired at him
rapidly, from all sides, and Sirius held up his hand.
 
When that didn’t work, he bellowed, “Enough!” and put some of the push of his
dominance behind it.  The room went silent.  Molly opened her mouth, likely to
scold him for the use of his push in public, but Sirius cut her off ruthlessly.
 “Ron.  With me, now.”
 
He didn’t wait to see if he was actually being followed, but instead stalked
from the room.  He heard Dumbledore call after him, “Sirius!” but didn’t break
his stride.
 
He dragged Ron into Harry and Ron’s bedroom and closed the door behind him.  Or
tried to, but Hermione was there and shoved her way in.  “What is going on?”
she asked, sharp and irritated.
 
“I don’t imagine that you’ll have any idea of what I need to ask Ron about,”
Sirius shot back, perhaps a bit cruelly, but the fact was that Hermione
wouldn’t know a thing about dynamics or bondrot.  She would have no reason to
have started researching it.
 
“You don’t-”
 
“This is time sensitive,” Sirius snapped.  He nodded at the door, which was
already shaking from the force of the knocking from outside.  “I need to ask
Ron several questions, and I really need you to be quiet so that I can get the
answers I need so that Harry doesn’t die.”
 
Ron blanched.  “So he is in bondrot,” Ron whispered.  He shook his head.  “I
thought… I thought maybe when he wasn’t eating, that maybe… but I’d really
hoped I was wrong.”
 
“You weren’t,” Sirius said shortly.  “So what can you tell me? When did it
start?”
 
Ron shook his head.  “I don’t…”  He stopped and closed his eyes, and Sirius
knew that he was really thinking about it.  “He wasn’t well when he got back to
school, but then he never is.  He’s always feeling poorly when he comes back
from the Dursleys.”
 
“Because they don’t treat him well,” Hermione agreed, but subsided the moment
that Sirius glared at her.
 
“So it had to be…  it had to be someone at Hogwarts in fourth year, someone
that isn’t there anymore.”  Ron went white, then, and his eyes jerked up.
 “What if it was Cedric?” he asked, his voice hushed.
 
The words hurt, because Sirius had thought of something similar.  “I don’t
know,” he said.  He swallowed.  “If it was Cedric, then I suppose we’ll be
preparing for a funeral.”  He didn’t like the thought of it, but he wouldn’t
let his godson suffer until bondrot took him.  He would… if it was Cedric, if
there was no recovering from this for Harry, then Sirius would… he would do the
right thing.  The honorable thing.
 
“What are you two talking about?” Hermione bit out.  She was looking from one
to the other, her eyes narrowed.
 
“Never mind,” Sirius said shortly.  “Thank you, Ron.  Hopefully… hopefully it
isn’t Cedric.”  He opened the door and Dumbledore practically fell through.
 
“Mr. Black, I must insist that you bring Harry back to Grimmauld Place at
once,” Dumbledore snarled.
 
Sirius’ hand twitched towards his wand, but he held it ruthlessly still.  “Did
you know, Albus?” he asked, scowling.
 
Dumbledore paused.  “Did I know what?” One of his eyebrows raised, and he
stared at Sirius like he was some kind of naughty child.  “Did I know that you
were going to abscond with Harry in the middle of the night like some kind of
fool?  Do you have any idea of the kind of danger you’ve put the boy in?”
 
“He’s in bondrot, Albus!” Sirius snarled.  Now he drew his wand and pointed it
at the old man.  “Did you know that my godson was submissive and did you know
that he was sick?”
 
“Do not point that stick at me,” Dumbledore growled, and drew himself up.  He
drew his own wand.
 
Sirius’ lip curled into a snarl.  “I can’t help but notice that you aren’t
answering the question.”  His wand twitched in his hand, and he wanted nothing
more than to blow Dumbledore’s face off, but he held the urge in.  “I’m going
to take that as a yes.”
 
Dumbledore softened almost immediately, and Sirius was amazed to note the speed
with which he went from imposing leader of the light to concerned old man.
 “Sirius, please, do you really think that I’d allow Harry to suffer like
that?”
 
Sirius just stared at him, and didn’t answer the question.  Because honestly,
as much as he’d wanted to believe that Dumbledore had Harry’s best intentions
at heart when he’d first escaped from Azkaban, he’d never seen a bit of
evidence that it was actually true.
 
“Sirius,” Dumbledore started.
 
Sirius just shook his head once, sharply.  “I’m going.  I’ll be back later.”
 
Dumbledore grabbed him by the arm as he prepared to Apparate, and Sirius threw
a reflexive curse at him, just a stinging hex, but it was enough for Dumbledore
to drop his arm with a startled oath.
 
“Don’t touch me,” Sirius snapped.  Then he Apparated away, back to Harry, and
hoped that he could figure out who Harry had bonded too.  And, more
importantly, that it wasn’t to Cedric, who was long dead and wouldn’t be able
to consummate a bond.
 
                                  ooOOooOOoo
 
Ron closed his eyes when Sirius left.  He’d hoped… but of course they wouldn’t
be that lucky.  Harry was in bondrot.  Why did the worst things always happen
to his friend?  He never seemed to catch a break.  Ron just… he just hoped that
Harry could catch enough of a break that it wasn’t Cedric he was actually
bonded to.
 
“What did you speak of with Sirius, Ron?” the Headmaster asked, sounding
conversational, almost grandfatherly.  “Did he happen to tell you where he’d
taken Harry?”
 
Ron just stared at him.  “I’m afraid that it’s private, Headmaster.  Matters of
soulbonds always are.”  He didn’t know much about pureblooded traditions, knew
even less about dynamic traditions, but he knew that they were considered
deeply private.  It was… unthinkable to lay Harry’s secrets bare before the
Headmaster, however few Ron might hold.
 
Hermione opened her mouth, probably to tell him, and Ron shot her a sharp look.
 She stared back at him, her eyes sharp with defiance, and then she frowned and
closed her mouth and didn’t speak.
 
The Headmaster glanced between the two of them, then shook his head and left
the room.  Once he was gone, Hermione asked, “Do you want to tell me what that
was all about?”
 
Ron shrugged.  “It’s… a wizarding world thing,” he said slowly.  He didn’t want
to admit that he didn’t actually know much about dynamics, because his parents…
well, they were called blood traitors for a reason.  They might be soulmated
themselves, but they’d always told their children that it was a terrible thing
to find their mates.  That it was awful when their mate left them, as
inevitably they would.
 
Ron had always believed them, but… well.  It didn’t matter.  He’d never
approach his…  They wouldn’t want him anyway, and he’d probably have no choice
but to waste away from bondrot unless he did the smart thing and took his own
life.
 
“Yeah, you definitely need to give me more information than just that it’s a
wizarding world thing,” Hermione snapped.
 
Ron sighed, and told her what he knew.  That wizards had soulmates, that they
were always doms or subs or switches, and that Harry was going to die unless
Sirius could figure out who he was soulmated to.  As he’d suspected, Hermione
had a million questions that he couldn’t begin to answer.  He scrubbed a hand
over his eyes as she talked at him, rather than to him, and tried to think of a
way out of this.  It wasn’t like he could give her answers even if he wanted
to, anyway.  This was something that parents were supposed to teach, and his
certainly never had.
 
And then he realized.  They were in Grimmauld Place, and Grimmauld Place had a
ton of books.  Surely, surely some of them would have information on the
subject, right?  “Library?” he squeaked out in suggestion as soon as she took a
breath.
 
Hermione smiled at him.  “That’s actually an excellent idea,” she said
cheerfully.  “Thank you, Ron!  I’m sure there are some books here that we can
use.”
 
Of course there were.  Dozens of them, and when Kreacher realized what they
were looking for, he actually seemed inclined to help out, oddly enough.  He
gave Hermione a stack of books almost as tall as she was, from children’s books
about the subject all the way up to dusty tomes that looked like they’d been
written in Binns’ time.  Hermione was contented with her new project to study,
and Ron was glad to have helped.
 
If he started looking through some of the books himself, well, Hermione was
kind enough not to say anything to him, and Ron sincerely appreciated it.
***** Chapter 3 *****
 
Just as Sirius reappeared in the same foyer he’d been using to Apparate into,
Kreacher popped into the room with him.  “Master Sirius has returned,” the elf
said with a small gasp.  “Master Harry is in some distress.  He woke only
moments ago.”
 
Sirius swore and took off running towards Harry’s room.  “Thank you!” he called
to Kreacher, who let out a small, offended noise in response.  Sirius didn’t
hear it, though, and took the stairs two at a time until he reached the floor
where he’d left Harry.
 
He could hear his godson, now, letting out harsh sobs that practically echoed
from the open door.  Sirius entered the room and closed the door behind him.
 Harry was curled in on himself, his arms wrapped around his stomach, crying as
though he was dying.  Sirius didn’t try to say anything, wasn’t stupid enough
to think that words would help at this point, and instead unfurled his dominant
aura.  He watched it crash over Harry, watched the way his godson sagged as he
relaxed abruptly, although the tears didn’t stop.
 
Of course they didn’t.  Harry was an absolute mess, and if Sirius couldn’t find
out who his dom was soon…  Sirius shook the thought off and approached the
bedroom.  Harry’s sobs had dwindled, though he was still sniffling rather
pathetically.  He lifted a shaky hand and brushed at his tears, but it was
rather ineffective.  Sirius pulled a handkerchief from his pocket and settled
on the bed next to Harry and wiped at his tear-stained cheeks.
 
“What’s all that about?” Sirius asked quietly, carefully.  He lowered the
handkerchief and curled an arm around Harry’s shoulders, pulling him close.
 
“I don’t even know,” Harry said quietly, tiredly, his voice hoarse from tears.
 “Sirius, what’s wrong with me?”  He let out another sniffle, and Sirius
immediately stroked a soothing hand over his shoulder.
 
“Nothing’s wrong with you,” he started, but Harry let out a small noise of
discontent when Sirius finished what he’d been saying.  He winced.  “Nothing’s
wrong with you that we won’t fix,” he tried instead.  And it was the truth, in
a manner of speaking.  He had every intention of fixing Harry, one way or
another.
 
It was just that… if Harry’s soulmate had been Cedric…  then…  then Sirius
would fix it by putting Harry out of his misery.  There was no cure for
bondrot, and a fast death would be so much better than watching Harry waste
away.
 
“Promise?” Harry asked, his voice small.
 
“Swear,” Sirius said immediately.
 
The two sat in silence for what felt like forever, Sirius still smoothing his
fingers over Harry’s shoulders in soothing pets, his aura still unfurled so
that Harry could at least feel a little bit steadier, and he felt Harry
relaxing into his side the longer they sat together.
 
Then, after who knew how long, he heard Harry whisper, “I feel dirty.”
 
Immediately, Sirius called for Kreacher.  As soon as the elf appeared, Sirius
ordered him to draw a bath for Harry, and the elf immediately complied.  As
soon as he’d appeared to tell Sirius that it was done, Sirius helped Harry
stand.
 
It hurt to see how shaky his godson was now, the unsteady steps he took in the
direction of the bathroom.  “I’ll check on you in a half hour,” Sirius said
quietly.  The last thing he wanted was for Harry to fall asleep in the tub and
drown, but he didn’t think that Harry would consent to have Sirius watching him
while he bathed.
 
“Okay,” Harry said tiredly.  He paused just before he entered the bathroom.
 “Sirius, am I really going to be okay?” he asked quietly, hesitantly, like he
couldn’t bear to ask the question.
 
“You are,” Sirius said immediately.  He had to believe it.  Nothing had ever
gone right for Harry in his entire life, so surely, surely this one thing would
go well.  It had to.
 
Once the door to the bathroom had closed behind Harry, Sirius let himself relax
ever so slightly.  “Kreacher!” he called once more.
 
The house elf appeared before him again.  “Master Sirius?” the elf asked with a
low bow.
 
“I have reason to believe that Harry’s dom visited the school during the
Triwizard Tournament.  Perhaps he or she might have been one of the champions,
or one of the students from a visiting school?”  Sirius hoped that was the
case, and not that it was a random stranger in the crowd that Harry happened to
have spotted at one point.  Or a Death Eater that he’d met for the first time
during his kidnapping after the third task.
 
“That certainly sounds reasonable,” the elf agreed.
 
“I’d like you to see if you can’t find pictures of the visiting students,”
Sirius said slowly.  “Maybe some pictures of the crowds at the different tasks,
if possible.  Hopefully Harry will be able to point out which one of the people
in the photograph draws him.”  He’d never heard of such a thing working, but
then, he’d never really known someone who didn’t understand when they’d met
their soulmate.
 
A large part of Sirius genuinely wanted to kill Dumbledore for what he’d
successfully managed to put Harry through.  If Harry didn’t survive… if Harry’s
soulmate couldn’t be found, Sirius was almost positive that he would, in fact,
murder Dumbledore.  The man would have it coming.
 
“I will do my best,” the elf said with another low bow.  “Shall I return with
them as I find them, or would you like me to come back at a specific time?”
 
Sirius thought the question over.  “Come back as you find them,” he said
finally.  It made more sense to do it that way.  Otherwise, who knew how long
it would be before Kreacher came back with photographs?
 
The elf nodded once, then disappeared with a small pop.  Sirius sagged and
closed his eyes, exhausted.  If they couldn’t figure out who Harry’s soulmate
was…
 
No.  He had to stop thinking like that.  There would be a way, even if this one
didn’t work.  They could do this, Sirius knew it.
 
                                  ooOOooOOoo
 
Harry stared blankly at the warm water in the bathtub.  He felt dirty, and he
knew that he should get clean, and Sirius had told him… Sirius had told him to
take a bath.  He could do that, couldn’t he?  Yes.  He could.  He stripped out
of his pajamas and left them in a heap, too tired to fold them or put them in a
hamper.  Not that he could find one of those, actually.
 
Harry was so very tired, and he wasn’t sure if he could actually manage to get
into the water.  But at least the tub was sunken into the floor so that he
didn’t have to climb in, the way he would have had to do at the Dursleys.
 Harry took one step forward, dipping his toes into the steaming water.
 
It was hot, almost too hot but not quite.  He shivered a little, the rest of
his skin suddenly feeling almost unbearably cold, and took another step into
the water.  The heat was… actually pretty amazing, so Harry moved a little bit
faster.  He settled himself in the water, on a bench that wrapped around the
pool of water, and let his eyes close.
 
He was warm, warmer than he’d been in what felt like forever.  Harry leaned
back in the tub and sighed, the tension slowly draining from his muscles as the
heat from the water soothed them.  He still ached, and he still felt queasy,
but he felt… better.  Part of him wanted to try to actually grab a washcloth
and clean up, but the rest of him just revelled in the warmth of the water and
he let himself just… rest.
 
He didn’t know how long he’d been in the water, but assumed that he’d fallen
asleep when he heard the light tapping on the door, then heard the creak of the
door opening.  “Harry?” Sirius called quietly.
 
Harry forced himself to open his eyes, even though he really didn’t want to.
 “Hey,” he said, just as quietly.  “Has it been a half hour already?”
 
Sirius smiled.  “Yeah.  A little over, actually, but I wanted to let you rest
for as long as I could.”
 
Harry sighed and sat up, slowly, his body reluctant to respond to his commands.
 “I’m tired,” he said softly.  He was tired.  He was so achingly tired, and he
just wanted… just wanted to sleep.  To slip under the water and not… no.  No,
that wasn’t what he wanted at all.  Harry shivered, the warm water no longer
comforting at all.
 
“Let’s get you out of there,” Sirius said quickly.  Harry didn’t know if his
godfather knew what he was thinking about, but the man looked spooked, so he
supposed there was always a chance that he knew.  
 
Sirius helped him from the water, without any obvious concern for his own dry
clothes, and helped Harry dry off as well.  Part of Harry was embarrassed by
it, but the rest of him was too tired to care, even when Sirius helped him into
a new, clean pair of pajamas.  He let himself be helped from the bathroom, too,
and back into the bed he’d come from.  He felt so weak, so fragile, like he was
going to fall apart at any minute.
 
Harry leaned back into the pillows either Sirius or Kreacher had piled up for
him and sighed.  “I don’t like this,” he said tiredly.  “I’m so exhausted, and
I haven’t even done anything today worthy of being exhausted over.”  His eyes
slipped closed.
 
“I know,” Sirius responded.  Harry felt his godfather settle next to him.  “Do
you think you might be up to looking at some pictures for me, though?”
 
Nothing seemed more exhausting than looking through pictures.  Harry let out a
small sigh and forced himself to open his eyes.  “I can try,” he said tiredly.
 “What am I looking for?”
 
“I’m hoping that you’ll recognize it when you see it,” Sirius answered.  “So
just… don’t force anything.  Just look through the pictures that Kreacher has
brought for you.”
 
Harry took the small stack with another sigh.  Nothing had ever sounded more
nebulous, more exhausting, than looking through photos and hoping that he felt…
something.  Something that Sirius couldn’t even define.
 
The first picture was of Cedric, and Harry set it aside without feeling
anything at all other than a mild sense of regret that Cedric had died because
of Harry.  Then there was a photo of Fleur, and Harry felt nothing from that,
either.  He set that picture aside as easily as he’d set aside Cedric’s, maybe
even easier because he didn’t feel any guilt over Fleur.
 
And then he came to Viktor’s picture.
 
Harry froze at the sight of the Champion from Durmstrang.  He set the other
pictures aside, not even looking through them.  He reached out with shaking
fingers and brushed them against Viktor’s face, and then he couldn’t quite
manage to remove them.  Viktor moved in the picture, crossing and uncrossing
his arms, and scowling up at Harry, but Harry didn’t mind.  Viktor could scowl
at him if he liked, that was fine.
 
He heard Sirius saying something, but it was like he was hearing through a fog,
the words muffled and distorted.  Instead, he could almost hear Viktor’s voice,
gruff and heavily accented, telling him what a good boy he was, telling him to
kneel in front of him.  Harry closed his eyes, but snapped them open again
right away.  It was so alone without the sight of Viktor…
 
He heard Sirius say something else, thought that maybe he heard Sirius tell him
how good he was, and felt Sirius’ lips brush against his forehead.  Then the
room was silent, but Harry didn’t mind.  He could still almost hear Viktor in
his mind, and that was good enough.
 
                                  ooOOooOOoo
 
Sirius left Kreacher watching over Harry once more as he stalked from Harry’s
bedroom.  He wanted to go back to breaking things, but reigned his temper in
with some difficulty.  Of course it couldn’t be the Delacour girl, or literally
anyone other than Viktor Krum!  One of the world’s most famous Seekers, and
widely regarded as one of the wizarding world’s most available bachelors… how
many people did he get every day claiming to be his soulmate?  Would he even
bother to investigate a claim like that?
 
A small voice inside of Sirius insisted that at least it wasn’t Cedric, and
that Sirius should be grateful, but he didn’t know that he actually believed
that.  At least if it had been Cedric, and for one heartstopping moment when
Harry had lingered over the picture he’d genuinely thought it might have been,
Sirius would have a definite answer and a conclusion to all of this worrying.
 It might not have been the conclusion he’d hoped for, but it would have been
one!
 
Now, now, with Viktor being his godson’s dom…
 
Would he have to watch Harry waste away while he tried to get in contact with
the Bulgarian Seeker?  Sirius could think of few things worse than that.
 
And how was he even going to get in contact with the Seeker, anyway?  Surely
any kind of fanmail would be rerouted with some kind of mailing ward…
 
There had to be a way to get around the… well, there was a way to bypass
mailing wards, actually, but they weren’t typically light magic.  After all,
the only people who wanted to get past wards like that tended to be up to no
good.  And, well, if there was one thing the Black family did well, it was
things that were no good.
 
Sirius headed to the library.  He was almost certain that he’d found an
enchantment like that when he’d been younger, but he’d ignored it at the time
as irrelevant to his interests.
 
It was the work of an hour to find the damned book again, and it took even
longer for Sirius to compose the letter he wanted to send.  Before he knew it,
the time had reached one o’clock.  Kreacher hadn’t alerted him to any distress
from Harry, but that was probably because he was still utterly absorbed in the
photograph.
 
Sirius sighed and summoned the house elf once more.  Kreacher appeared
immediately.  “Take this to the post office,” he said quietly.  “It’s urgent.
 Pay whatever you have to, but get a guarantee that it will be delivered by six
o’clock in the evening, Bulgarian time.”
 
“It will be done,” Kreacher said, and popped away immediately.
 
Sirius sagged.  This was a dangerous gamble, but it was the only option he had
available to him.  He just hoped that it wasn’t for nothing, that Viktor would
actually show up.  If he didn’t…
 
Sirius couldn’t let himself think like that.  
 
He headed back upstairs and creaked open the door to Harry’s bedroom.  His
godson was still entranced by the photo, his green eyes wide and vacant as he
stared down at the picture, his fingers still moving over Viktor’s face slowly,
like he was tracing it.  It was eerie, and Sirius closed the door because he
couldn’t bring himself to keep watching.
 
He rested his head against the closed door.  This had to work.  This had to go
well for his godson, because nothing else had, and Harry deserved for something
to go right.
 
                                  ooOOooOOoo
 
Viktor hadn’t been expecting any letters, which is why the owl tapping on his
window was such a surprise.  He frowned as he crossed his living room and
opened the window, and frowned at the envelope the owl carried.  He didn’t
recognize the handwriting, and the envelope stank of the dark magic of a
wardbuster.  He didn’t know the sender.
 
Part of him didn’t want to risk opening the letter.  It would certainly be more
cautious to not, but then again, Viktor hadn’t gotten to where he was as a
Quidditch player by being particularly cautious.  He was intrigued by the
letter, and by the expense of sending it given that the owl in question was of
a kind used only for the most urgent of messages.
 
After a moment of deliberation, Viktor went ahead and opened the letter.
 
Viktor Krum,
 
You don’t know me, and I’m afraid that I cannot risk identifying myself to you
in this letter, just in case it happens to be intercepted.  I realize that
might weaken my position, but I have no other way of approaching you.  My
godson, whom I love more dearly than anything, has taken quite ill.  I am quite
certain that it’s a case of bondrot.
 
Viktor winced.  That was… that was truly a shame.  Submissives should be
sheltered and protected, and should never have to face something as terrible as
bondrot.  It was truly a tragedy of wizarding kind that those least equipped to
deal with such things were often faced with them.  Saddened, but still
intrigued, Viktor read on.
 
My godson wasn’t certain who his dom was, for reasons that I’m not prepared to
go into in letter form.  I managed to discern that there is a very good chance
that his dom is you, Mr. Krum.  Even as I write this letter to you in a
desperate attempt to get your attention, my godson sits in his room, entranced
by your photograph, unable to look away from it.
 
You must understand that I would do anything for my godson, which is why I’ve
contacted you.  I can’t think of anyone else it could be, and his reaction to
your photo was so strong…  Surely you understand why I had no choice but to
write to you.  My godson needs you, Mr. Krum.  And I know that you probably
hear that someone is your soulmate so often that the words may very well fall
on deaf ears, but I just…
 
The words were slightly blurred there, as though the writer had been crying.
 Viktor genuinely felt terrible for the writer, and for the unknown submissive.
 If there was any chance…  Viktor did want to know.  But was it safe to attempt
to find out?  The writer was right, people did claim to be his soulmate, and
never once had they been telling the truth.  Viktor had been burned many times
by such claims.
 
He continued to read.
 
For other reasons that I’m not prepared to discuss, I cannot tell you who I am,
and I cannot appear safely in public.  If you want to take a chance on this, I
can meet you at King’s Cross Station in London at seven o’clock tonight.  My
elf assures me that this letter will reach you by six o’clock in your time.
 That gives you three hours to make your decision.  If you decide to come,
you’ll find me near Platform 9 ¾.  
 
I hope to see you there, because if you’re not, I don’t know what other options
I have left, other than to watch my godson waste away in front of my eyes.
 Please, please don’t make me do that.
 
The letter was unsigned, but at this point Viktor didn’t expect it to be.
 
Was he going to go?
 
Viktor knew that the smart thing to do would be to remain here.  To discard the
letter, to ignore the words within it, to ignore the chance to find his
soulmate.  But… but…
 
But if there truly were a submissive suffering the way the letter described,
with only a picture to comfort him?  Viktor couldn’t stand the thought of it,
couldn’t stand to imagine his soulmate wasting away like that when Viktor was
only an Apparition away.
 
He shouldn’t go, but he already knew that he would.  He wouldn’t let his
potential soulmate waste away.  He wouldn’t let any submissive suffer like that
if he could stop it, whether they were his or not.  He just hoped that the
mysterious person who’d written to him was right, and that he was the young
man’s soulmate.
 
Viktor sighed and glanced at the clock.  Those three hours were probably going
to feel longer than any other length of time.  It wouldn’t take him that long
to get ready.  Perhaps he’d head over early, just to make certain that he
didn’t miss the stranger.
 
That was a good idea.  Or a terrible idea, but either way, Viktor had made his
decision and he wasn’t about to change it with the possibility of finding his
soulmate on the table.
***** Chapter 4 *****
 
Sirius didn’t know if Viktor Krum was going to show by the time he’d given him,
and he felt like it would take forever to wait for him.  Still, there was
nothing he could do but wait.  It wasn’t like he could go out shopping to try
and distract himself.
 
He tried to do a bit of reading, but he couldn’t bring himself to focus.
 Instead, he found himself returning to Harry’s room and watching his godson,
who was still absolutely entranced by Viktor’s picture.  It was painful to
watch for Sirius, but yet he couldn’t do anything else.  He couldn’t bring
himself to look away.
 
Part of him, a large part of him, was certain that Viktor wouldn’t show up.  He
wouldn’t be at the train station, because why would he come?  Yes, there was a
strong drive within most purebloods to look after and shelter submissives, to
keep them safe from bondrot, but that didn’t mean that every pureblood felt
that drive the same way.  And surely a man like Viktor had been burned enough
times to be wary, rightfully so, of strange people claiming to either be his
soulmate or know who his soulmate was.
 
“Fuck,” he muttered to himself, and Harry didn’t even flinch.  He did, however,
lick his lips, and Sirius realized that his godson was probably quite thirsty,
even if he didn’t realize it at the moment.  He was too lost in thought.
 
“Kreacher, bring Harry a glass of water,” he commanded, and the house elf did
so immediately.  Sirius presented the glass to Harry, who took one sip of it,
then ignored it completely.  “Right,” Sirius muttered.  He raked a hand through
his hair.
 
Because of the advanced stage of the bondrot, he probably wouldn’t want to eat
anything, and he wouldn’t be as thirsty as he might normally be.  Sirius had
forgotten that little bit of information.  He closed his eyes and breathed out,
then placed the glass on the nightstand beside the bed.  “Kreacher, offer the
water to him periodically and see if he’ll drink it.  And around six, see if
you can’t get him to drink some broth of some kind.”
 
“Of course, Master Sirius,” Kreacher said with a small bow.  “If Kreacher may…”
 
Sirius glanced at the elf.  “What?” he asked.
 
“Does Master Sirius think that Master Harry’s dominant will show up?” the elf
asked, his head bowed low, wringing his hands together.
 
“I don’t know,” Sirius said honestly.  He hoped so, though.  He really did,
because he didn’t want to have to kill Harry, and they were… quickly
approaching the point where such a thing would be necessary.  The fact that he
was so entranced with a simple picture gave away the truth of Harry’s state,
even if his physical condition hadn’t made it clear.
 
Sirius could have killed Dumbledore for leaving Harry so unprepared for what
was coming.  In fact, there was a good chance that he might still do it if this
didn’t work out.  Sirius thought that might be a fitting end to his life,
killing the man that had essentially killed his godson.  He wouldn’t blame Krum
if this didn’t work out.  Why would it be his fault that he didn’t want to take
a chance on something like a stranger?
 
A low chime sounded, and Sirius breathed a small sigh of relief.  It was time
to go to the station, or at least, close enough.  He wanted to get there early
just in case Viktor was there, and arrived before he did.  He went to his own
room and pulled on a heavy black hoodie and pulled the hood up over his head.
 It wasn’t perfect, and his disguise, such as it was, could easily be seen
through, but it was the best he could do on such short notice.
 
He Apparated to King’s Cross and headed in the general direction of Platform 9
¾.  The station was busy, packed full with Muggles going to and from work and
changing trains and just going about their daily business.  That was helpful,
as it made it easier for Sirius to blend into the crowd.  And there weren’t too
many wizards at the station, either, not that any of them would pay much
attention to a Muggle in dark clothing hovering near the entrance to the
platform to Hogwarts.  
 
Sirius sighed and tried to relax as he waited, more anxious than he could
imagine.  He found a seat, but it wasn’t long before he was up again and
pacing.  He was too busy concentrating on walking around, back and forth, and
not running into people, that he almost missed it when Krum himself arrived at
the station.
 
He, too, was wearing a hoodie, though his hood was down and he was looking
around himself curiously, like he was trying to pick out whoever had written to
him.  Sirius hesitated, not having expected Krum to actually show, but then
took a deep breath.
 
Yes, there was a chance that Krum would call for Aurors immediately over this,
and there was a chance that Sirius would find himself dead.  He hadn’t thought
this plan through, but there was no time now to back out of it.  Harry needed
Krum desperately, and Sirius would rather die trying to get his godson help
than live and know that he was the reason that Harry had died.
 
Sirius crossed the crowded station and settled on the bench next to Krum.  “I
see that you decided to take a risk,” he said, his voice shaking.
 
Krum jumped, clearly startled.  “I know of no wizard of proper breeding who
would refuse such a thing,” he said, his accent thick, but not as thick as
Sirius might have expected.  He supposed that made sense, given that the
Quidditch player was well-traveled.  “And you said your godson was in desperate
need.”
 
“He’ll die soon if he doesn’t meet his soulmate, and you’re the only person
whose photo he reacted to,” Sirius said honestly.
 
“Your godson didn’t recognize the feeling of the bond settling in when he first
saw me?” Viktor sounded confused, and Sirius didn’t blame him.
 
Purebloods learned from an incredibly early age what the bond settling in was
supposed to feel like.  It was supposed to feel like everything someone didn’t
even know was missing just snapping into place, like peace and security and joy
all at once.  Submissives said that it felt like coming home, and the feeling
was… incredibly distinctive.  For someone not to recognize it…
 
“My godson wasn’t raised in the wizarding world,” Sirius said honestly after
the silence stretched out.  “He’s not…”  He swallowed.  He didn’t know if he
should say it or not, but he supposed that Krum would find out soon enough.
 “My godson isn’t a Pureblood.  His father was, and married a Muggleborn.  Due
to… extenuating circumstances, my godson was raised by Muggles.  His mother’s
sister.”
 
Viktor breathed out harshly.  “That explains much,” he said.  “Then he doesn’t
understand the dynamic system that we have?”
 
Sirius shook his head.  “He attends Hogwarts, and—”
 
“And Hogwarts doesn’t provide dynamic education,” Viktor said with a small huff
of disgust.  “I see.  And your letter said he was in some distress?”
 
“He hasn’t seen you since the end of the Triwizard Tournament,” Sirius said.
 “You tell me what condition you think he’s in.”  He let out a small, bitter
laugh.  “And then consider that I don’t think that his Aunt takes the best of
care of him over the summer, and remember to figure that into your estimates.”
 
“You are saying that he will need a gentle hand,” Viktor murmured.  He sounded
pleased.  “I can promise you that I will provide it.”
 
“Can you?” Sirius asked.  “You understand that his Aunt is abusive, and his
time at Hogwarts hasn’t exactly been easy.  He’ll need all the kindness you
have, and I don’t know that he’s ever going to have a masochistic—”
 
“I’m not a sadist,” Viktor said bluntly.  “And I swear to you now, on my magic,
in front of all of these Muggles, that if your godson is truly my submissive, I
will cherish and honor him in every way, every day of my life.”
 
Sirius let out a small sigh of relief, the massive weight on his shoulders
easing ever so slightly.  “Thank you,” he breathed.  “I mean no insult, of
course, I just worry for him.”
 
“Of course you do, coming from a background like that.”  Viktor didn’t even
sound at all frustrated with him, but instead sounded almost pleased.  Like he
was glad that he was marrying into a family that cared so much for one
submissive.
 
Sirius almost wanted to laugh.  Little did Viktor know how very small the
family he was marrying into actually was.  “Then… if you’re ready,” he started,
a bit uncertainly.  He didn’t quite know where to go from here.  He should get
Viktor to Harry as soon as possible, so that Harry could begin to recover.
 
“I am,” Viktor said.  “Can I Apparate to him?”
 
Sirius shook his head.  “My home is under Blood Wards,” he said.  “I’ll have to
Side-Along you in.  I’m afraid that’s non-negotiable, at least for now.”
 
“I understand,” Viktor said, and stood.  “Shall we?  The official Apparation
point is—”

“Yeah, I can’t actually take the official point,” Sirius said.  He offered
Viktor a small, awkward smile that the other dom couldn’t actually see thanks
to the hood.  He took one step back.  “I used a nearby alley to get here, and
that’s what we’ll have to use to get back.”
 
Viktor frowned at him, but nodded once, the motion short and sharp.  “Then
please, sir, lead the way.”
 
Sirius led him to the alley that he’d used before, then hesitated before taking
Viktor’s arm.  “One more thing,” he said quietly.
 
Viktor just raised his eyebrow.  “Yes?” he asked.
 
“I need a vow of secrecy from you, that you won’t reveal anything you find out
at the house that we’re going to.”
 
Viktor’s other eyebrow rose to join the first.  “You have it,” he said simply,
and held out his wand, the tip lit.
 
Sirius touched his own wand to Viktor’s and sighed when he felt the weight of
the oath settling over him.  Harry was safe now, and theoretically, so was he.
 It was as safe as it could be to take Viktor to Black Manor.  “Then let’s go,”
Sirius said with a small smile that was more nervous than not.
 
He held out his arm.  Viktor took it, and Sirius whirled them both away.
 
                                  ooOOooOOoo
 
Viktor didn’t know what sort of house he was expecting when he came out of the
Apparition, but to land in the foyer of a house as opulent and magnificent as
the one he’d grown up in wasn’t it.  The man had said that his godson wasn’t a
Pureblood, but Viktor was quickly realizing that he’d never said anything about
himself.
 
He turned to his host and froze, the very blood in his veins stilling as he
found himself staring at Sirius Black, of all people.  The man looked tired,
and looked years older than his wanted pictures.  There were dark shadows under
his eyes and a frown pulled at his lips.  His eyes were dark with worry, and…
 
And oh, Merlin, Sirius Black’s godson was Harry Potter.  Viktor took a deep,
shuddering breath at the very thought.  He’d thought the boy was beautiful when
he’d seen him, even though the boy had been terrified half of the time since he
never should have been made to compete in the tournament.  He hadn’t put his
name in, and he was an entire three years younger than the youngest competitor!
 Of course he’d been frightened.
 
Viktor had remembered being impressed with the way the boy had acquitted
himself.  He’d done amazing things in that tournament, in spite of the severe
gap in ages.  He’d remembered thinking that whatever dom, or sub, Harry Potter
found, they would be very lucky.
 
He hadn’t imagined he would be the dom in question.
 
“Harry Potter is your godson,” he said, the words coming out thick with nerves.
 “How am I…”  Viktor breathed out heavily.  Everyone knew that Voldemort wanted
Harry Potter dead.  How was he supposed to keep Harry safe when the Dark Lord
wanted him dead?  It was… impossible…
 
“We’ll figure that out,” Sirius Black said roughly.  He sounded tired, and
looked like he had the weight of the world on his shoulders.  “As soon as we
make sure that I’m right, that my godson is your soulmate, and that he’s in
better health.  Then we’ll worry about that.”
 
Viktor nodded once, sharply.  “A sound plan,” he said agreeably.  “When do we
make certain that you’re right?”
 
“Now,” Black replied.  “Right now, because Merlin if I’m wrong…”  Black’s gaze
went blank and he shivered a little.  Viktor could empathize with his fears.
 If he was wrong, if he wasn’t Harry’s soulmate, and if the boy was really in
the kind of condition that Black thought he was…
 
There were so many ways this could turn into a disaster.  Viktor just hoped
that none of them would happen, and not just because he wanted to have found
his soulmate.  He genuinely hated the idea of any submissive suffering through
bondrot.  It was said to be a truly terrible way to die.
 
Black led him up a set of stairs, and then up another and down a hall.  There
was a door open in the hall, and Black paused in the doorway.  His face fell as
Viktor watched, and then he watched as the man turned away from the doorway.
 
“He’s in there,” Black said, his voice still hoarse.  “Please, just… just try.
 And if he’s not, if this doesn’t work, just…”  He swallowed.  “Let me know?
 I’ll be downstairs, in the parlor we landed in.  I can’t…  I won’t intrude,
and I can’t stand to watch anyway.”
 
“I’ll let you know,” Viktor said immediately.  “And if it does work…”  He
trailed off.  If he was Harry’s soulmate, the last thing he would want to do
would be to leave immediately.  He wanted to be there with him, to stay with
him.
 
“The house elf’s name is Kreacher.  He’ll come if you call for him.  Tell him
to tell me that it worked, and we’ll go from there once you feel up to leaving
Harry.”  Black looked down and went back the way they’d come before Viktor
could so much as respond.
 
He closed his eyes, took a deep breath, and stepped up to the doorway that
Black had vacated.  He spotted Harry immediately.  He was sitting in bed,
covers over his lap, and was staring down at a picture, his expression that of
a man utterly enchanted.  His fingers traced over the picture, tracing patterns
that Krum couldn’t begin to identify.  He looked fragile, there in that bed.
 It looked like Harry had dropped a fair amount of weight, which was impressive
because, from what Viktor could remember, the boy really hadn’t had much
available to use.  He looked like a strong wind could knock him over, and
Viktor hated to see that.
 
But he was also beautiful, so beautiful, and Viktor found that he wanted, more
than anything, for Sirius Black to be right.  He wanted to be the one to take
care of Harry, to cherish and adore him, to give him everything that he needed.
 
He took a single step into the room and cleared his throat.  Harry’s brow
furrowed, but he shook his head and his brow smoothed out.  It was like he’d
convinced himself that he was hearing things.  Viktor smiled a little and tried
again.  “Harry,” he called, pitching his voice low so as not to frighten the
submissive.
 
Immediately, Harry stilled.  His head jerked up and his eyes were wide and
frantic.  “Viktor,” he breathed, and slid out of bed.  He took a halting step
towards Viktor, but his knees started to give out.  He let out a small noise,
but Viktor caught him before he could hit the ground.
 
“Hello, Harry,” Viktor breathed.  He held the fragile form in his arms
carefully, and when he stood up all the way, he scooped Harry into his arms.
 
Harry let out another small noise, and Viktor shivered when he felt slender
arms curl around his neck.  “You’re here?” Harry asked.  He sounded vague,
confused, like he couldn’t imagine that Viktor was really there.
 
“I am,” Viktor said gently.  He settled Harry on the bed and took the photo
away.  It was one of him, a promotional shot of some kind.  Harry reached for
it once more, the gesture feeble, and Viktor instead settled down on the bed
next to him.  He didn’t lie down, but instead leaned back against the headboard
and let Harry snuggle up against him.  “What do you think, Harry?” he asked
quietly, softly, and stroked a careful hand down Harry’s bony spine.  “Am I
yours?”
 
“Please,” Harry breathed.  His smile was soft, enchanted, as he cuddled closer
to Viktor.  “Please be mine.  Please say you’ll stay?  You feel like home.”
 
Viktor closed his eyes.  “I’ll stay,” he promised.  “Close your eyes for me,
get some rest, and when you wake up I’ll be here for you.”
 
Harry’s eyes fluttered closed immediately, without Viktor having to unleash
much of his aura at all, and the submissive fell immediately into the deepest
sleep Viktor had ever seen.  Viktor summoned the house elf, told him that Harry
was his and that Sirius could at least relax about that, and then closed his
own eyes to get some rest.  He would need it, he thought, if he was going to
take care of Harry.
 
                                  ooOOooOOoo
 
Harry heard the voice call to him.  That was  the voice .  It was  his  voice,
and Harry was powerless to resist the urge to look up.   He  was there,
standing in the doorway, like he was hesitating.  Didn’t he know that all of
Harry belonged to him?
 
Harry stood and went to him, to try and coax him into coming closer, because he
needed him and didn’t want to be alone anymore, but… but his legs wouldn’t work
right.  He tried to go anyway, and then he didn’t have to go anywhere because
he had come to Harry, and had scooped him into his arms.  Harry curled his arms
around his neck and sighed, his body melting against his.
 
He needed this.  He needed  him , and now he was here, and Harry had never been
happier.  It was easy to close his eyes when directed, especially since he was
in bed with him, and his touch was warm and steadying in a way that Sirius
hadn’t been able to manage.
 
Harry smiled as he drifted off to sleep on command.  He was home.
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