26. MY MATE AND MASTER
The steady beeping of the machine that monitored Harry's heart beat was the only indication that Harry was still alive, and Sirius was willing to cling to that sliver of hope, however feeble it was. He had to cling to it. He had passed days and whole weeks in that exact same position, holding Harry's small hand, pressing it to his lips in a mockery of intimacy that was never returned, sitting next to his still form on the uncomfortable chair he had barely vacated since Harry had been brought here, observing every small move of his chest. Up. Down. Up. Down. It was strangely comforting to just concentrate on the rising and falling of his chest and for a while, he could forget what it meant. Harry was still alive. Barely, perhaps, but still alive. He was still breathing, his heart was still beating. He was alive.
His hand was clutching Harry's and his thumb lightly rested against his pulse point, the steady if a bit faint throbbing helping him to stay calm. He shifted uncomfortably, closing his eyes for a second. They were probably bloodshot, and he knew that his hair was untidy and his face partially hidden by a scruff beard since he hadn't dared to leave Harry alone if only for the half hour that he would need to take a shower and clean up. He hadn't looked into a mirror, so he had no idea how he really looked.
Remus had tried to reason with him that his appearance would only scare Harry if... when he woke up. Harry would wake up. He couldn't bear to think otherwise.
When Snape and he had apparated to Hogsmeade and hastened up to the castle, Harry had still been unconscious and by the time they had reached the infirmary and Snape had placed Harry on the clean white sheets of the hospital bed, he had barely been able to feel their bond anymore. Madam Pomfrey had bustled over and had started to work on Harry's wounds, ordering Snape to pour potions down Harry's throat.
There was no reason for Harry not to wake up. His wounds had been healed in the matter of a few days since none of them had been too grave and Madam Pomfrey had checked him more than once for hidden injuries or poisons coursing through his veins. Nothing. There was no reason for Harry not to wake up, except for a mental trauma. Harry didn't want to wake up.
He had tried to relate to that, had tried to put himself in Harry's position and surprisingly enough, it was way easier than he had thought. For the first few weeks, he had almost hoped that Harry wouldn't wake up because he had no idea how he should act around him. Would Harry even want to see him? After what he did, after all the pain he caused him? What should he say, how should he greet him? He had thought about this so long and hard that Madam Pomfrey had to practically push an Anti-Headache Potion and a Calming Draught down his throat.
Remus and to his surprise Sébastien had helped him a lot to come to terms with what he had done, and they made it quite clear that by leaving Harry he would only make it worse. They were bonded, even though their connection had somehow turned into a dull aching. But he could feel Harry again, only dimly, as if he only saw his shadow, only heard his muffled voice and only felt him like through a sea of cotton wads, but he was there. And he needed him.
He still wasn't sure what would happen when Harry woke, but he had had enough time to play out all possible scenarios and figure out the best possible reaction to each. He was as ready as he would ever be. Only Harry wasn't ready yet.
"Hey," it was Sébastien, whose gentle French accent washed over Sirius' frayed nerves like the ocean, soothing him somewhat. "No change?"
"No," even to his own ears, Sirius' voice sounded hoarse and weak, "But..."
"I'm sure he'll wake as soon as he's ready," the siren assured him, taking the chair next to the veela, briefly putting his hand on the older man's shoulder. "He just needs a bit more time."
"How much fucking time does he need?!" Sirius suddenly exploded, his free hand balling into a fist, even though his hand around Harry's stayed loving. "It's Christmas soon, and he has been like this for over three weeks. He's made no sign of wanting to wake anytime soon..."
"I researched some things, you know," Sébastien stated, not reacting to his half-angry, half-desperate tone. "When you brought him here, he was exhausted because he not only used his powers but also had to disobey several dominants. He needs to process all their commands before he can wake again, Sirius. It's only natural. He will wake as soon as he is ready."
"But... it is taking him so long to get ready," Sirius all but whined. "Don't tell me you didn't expect him to wake sooner as well."
"Well, yes, I did, but we still don't have all the information. Maybe elves have a different way of dealing with such things," the younger man admitted. "But this is Harry we are talking about, from what I've heard he's infamous for surviving. Have a little faith in him."
"I hate waiting."
"At least you have someone to wait for." Sébastien sighed sadly, before he quickly shook his head and composed himself. "Look, submissives always come back to their dominants. Harry will do so too."
"Our bond just feels so strange, out of place, like I'm connected with a Harry but not with the Harry I know." Sirius groaned, not able to believe the reassuring words.
"You are most likely just not used to it, and your worry intensifies and falsifies your feelings," Sébastien told him not for the first time, but with the same unyielding patience and confidence as always.
Sirius looked mildly grateful as their eyes briefly met before the veela turned back to his comatose mate. "I never thanked you for being there for Harry. It was mighty ungrateful how I treated you."
"I would have been surprised if you had reacted with less jealousy," Sébastien stated firmly, a smile tugging his plump limps. "When Aaron was still alive, I threw jealous fits on a regular basis. It was driving him insane."
"It was still unfair," Sirius insisted. "I said some mean things about you to Harry and my thoughts were even nastier."
The siren shrugged. "I can understand you, though. If it hadn't been for you, I would have gladly taken care of Harry." The stormy grey eyes narrowed dangerously, and Sébastien raised his hands in surrender. "Stop, let me finish. I merely wanted to say that Harry is very special and that you can consider yourself lucky if he even looks at you. I would most definitely have fallen in love with him, but I doubt that he could ever love me as much as he loves you. You have every right to be extra protective of him. I wouldn't let him out of my sight, either. I doubt that I could have mustered up even as much control as you displayed this last few weeks - and he's not even my mate."
"We should agree on never talking about this again," Sirius growled. "Because Harry likes you and surprisingly enough I think you are not half bad either, but I swear if I ever see you looking at my mate in that way or hear you talking about him like this again I will kill you without an ounce of regret."
"D'accord." Sébastien smiled good-naturedly. "I'll think I'll take my leave now anyway. I just wanted to remind you to eat something before all your muscles disappear once more and you turn into the skeleton you used to be."
Sirius flashed him a weak grin, dutifully reaching for the bowl of lukewarm soup a house-elf had brought him earlier and began to shovel some of the stuff into his mouth. It tasted like mushrooms and if he had cared enough, he would have the house-elves bring him something else, but so he only dunked some of the soft white bread into it and forced it down his throat. He knew he had to eat and so he ate. Just like he knew that he had to drink and so he emptied the by now cold coffee in one go. It was a horrible combination and it left him feeling slightly nauseous, but it hardly made any difference to him, as his eyes didn't stray from Harry's face.
He looked so peaceful and innocent, his small form almost swallowed by the downy pillows and blankets, his black hair in stark contrast to the whiteness of them, his skin milky, but warm to his touch. Not too warm, no, Harry didn't have a fever. There was nothing physically wrong with Harry, and his magic that at first had randomly surfaced weaving a protective shield around Harry and himself, had settled down as well.
He looked younger too and it filled him with a strange kind of bittersweet sadness that he had never seen Harry grow up. Deep down inside, he knew that it would have made it even more difficult if he had had the opportunity to be a real godfather for Harry, but he still couldn't help but feel that he had missed so much of Harry's life. The things Harry had told him about his first few years at Hogwarts had made him feel so utterly helpless because he hadn't been there to protect him and then again he felt strangely disappointed because he hadn't been involved in all the mischief Harry, Ron and Hermione had got into. Harry never talked about his childhood, which strengthened his belief that it had been not at all rosy and that he had failed James because his son had got hurt, and he hadn't been there to prevent it.
And now he had failed Harry again and instead of protecting him, he had hurt him and Harry had had to protect him. Snape had described the whole confrontation as awe-inspiring, though of course he hadn't used that word and had hid it under a whole book of sarcastic comments and he was definitely proud of what Harry had done: manipulated the Death Eaters, the atmosphere, the weather, the Dark Marks, vanished Voldemort once and for all. Snape had said that Harry's wind had hurled the Killing Curse back at Voldemort and that then his lighting had done the rest. Sirius couldn't understand it fully and whenever he tried to remember it, all that came to his mind was Harry's body pressed into his and his wings wrapped around him. He wasn't sure he wanted to remember. Voldemort was dead and that was all that mattered to him. Now Harry only had to wake up!
He leaned forward, pressing a gentle kiss to Harry's forehead. "Wake up, love, please."
A figment of his imagination, he told himself, turning away to get his emotions under control again. It was just wishful thinking, Harry's eyes hadn't fluttered, his hands were still limp and hadn't momentarily tightened around his fingers. Harry hadn't groaned either, and he hadn't tossed around while a small whimper escaped his lips.
Maybe he was still sleeping, yes, a beautiful dream. He didn't want to wake up. It had been so long since he had last seen Harry's forest green eyes, since Harry's lips had responded to his kisses, since small puffs of air had teased his skin while he pulled Harry in his lap. So long, so good.
"Harry, tell me this is not a dream," he pleaded in a gruff whisper, his eyes now closed and his lips only millimetres away from Harry's. "Tell me you're really awake."
"It's not a dream, I'm really awake," Harry's voice was soft like a warm summer breeze and when Sirius pulled back, he was smiling slightly.
"Merlin, it's not a dream," Sirius mumbled to himself before he repeated the same sentence only in much louder voice, laughing happily and dancing around the room with Harry still in his arms. "I have you back."
He wasn't sure what he had expected when he had thought of all of possible reactions, but it hadn't seemed very likely that Harry would snuggle into him and respond to his kisses and act like nothing had ever happened. Wait, Harry did know what had happened, didn't he?
"Harry, do you know what happened?" his own voice sounded hesitant to his ears; he wasn't sure if he wanted to know the answer.
Why should he remind Harry of everything that happened? The past was in the past and it should stay there. It sounded like something Dumbledore would say or maybe Remus or maybe both, at the same time, making a theatrical bow... He really should eat more.
"Of course I know what happened," Harry stated with conviction. "Death Eaters kidnapped us, we bonded and now I'm safe again. Thank you."
"Erm, yes," Sirius faltered, Harry was full of surprises; he hadn't expected that answer, but before he could come up with something more coherent and witty to say, the door of the infirmary was pushed open with such force that it banged against the white walls and left an unsavoury dent in one of the tiles.
A bit of greyish plaster flittered to the clean floor as Madam Pomfrey followed by Dumbledore with a maniac twinkle in his eyes, Remus and Severus with his robes billowing behind him, Sébastien, Lucius and Narcissa stormed into the up until then rather peaceful hospital room.
"Put him down this very moment, Mr. Black," Madam Pomfrey ordered sternly. "You should know better than to swirl him around like that before I have checked him. Mr. Potter, how are you feeling?"
Harry cocked his head to the side as if he wasn't sure how to answer that question, but then he gave an albeit short answer, "I feel good."
"Well, we'll see about that," the nurse tutted disapprovingly, while Sirius gently placed his small mate back on the bed. "Are you in any pain, Mr. Potter?"
Harry shook his head, watching curiously as the nurse checked his vitals before he once again sought out Sirius' eyes, smiling at him. Something about his behaviour worried Sirius. Even if he remembered everything that had happened, wouldn't one normally be a bit disoriented at first, ask questions like what time it was, how long he had been out, how they got back? And instead there was nothing, only a plastic smile.
"Are you sure you are okay?" Severus seemed to have come to the same conclusion, his black eyes scrutinising the delicate youth.
Harry's eyes narrowed marginally as he turned towards the tall Potion's Master. "I don't like you. I don't have to answer you."
Severus drew back, shocked, hurt briefly flitting over his face and showing in his eyes before he slammed his guards up, turning swiftly and leaving with the same billowing of his robes but in a totally different frame of mind.
"What was that?" Remus asked, his normally calm voice rising a few notches at he thought of his hurt partner. "Harry, explain this to me, since when don't you like Severus? I thought you were friends!"
He took a step forward, not thinking about what an effect such a menacing gesture could have on the small submissive, but Harry only brilliantly smiled up at him. "Remus, it's so great to see you. I'm not afraid of you anymore!"
Remus looked incredulously at his grinning adopted godson, sniffing the air as if expecting there to be something that was causing Harry's weird behaviour, but came up with nothing. "What is wrong, Harry? You can tell me, or don't you like me anymore either?" he couldn't help the sharp sarcastic edge his last question carried.
Harry didn't seem to mind, was indeed completely unfazed by Remus' presence, and seemed oblivious to the tension and worry in the room. "Nothing is wrong with me, Remus, what should be wrong with me?"
"You aren't acting like yourself," Sirius ventured uncertainly, and Harry's eyes suddenly watered.
"I'm sorry, Master, I'm sorry. I thought you wanted me to like Remus and dislike Snivellus. I thought you wanted me to be happy, Master. I'm sorry, I'll be good from now on, I promise, Master. I'll be good." During his rambling, he had slipped to the floor, kneeling at Sirius's feet with his head bowed demurely and his hands crossed behind his back, while the teachers watched in horror.
"Master?!" A furious shout made their heads briefly swivel away from the distraught submissive as an angry redhead accompanied by a not much more happy brunette burst into the hospital room, something that might have been an Extendable Ear dangling from his pocket. "What the fuck is going on here? What have you done to Harry, you fucking pervert?!"
"Mr. Weasley, if you insist on using such foul language in my hospital wing, I will be forced to remove you," Madam Pomfrey admonished him sternly . "Though I'd like to have those questions answered as well, Mr. Black. What is the explanation for this?"
"I..." Sirius gulped, looking pleadingly at his best friend. "I don't know either. I don't understand."
"Perhaps Harry could answer those questions for us," Dumbledore intervened, and for once there was no twinkle in his eyes. "If he were calmer."
"Shh, Harry, calm down for me." Sirius dropped to his knees beside Harry, trying to concentrate on getting him to calm down and not on all the unsolved questions. "It's fine. I'm not angry. We'll work this out. Shh, beautiful, I love you. We'll talk about what happened, yeah? It's not your fault."
"I'm sorry, Master, I didn't mean to disobey you." Harry sobbed, but made a conscious effort to stop crying. "What can I do to make it up to you, Master?"
"Let's get off the floor first, hm?" Sirius murmured, easily scooping him up and settling him on the hospital bed once more, taking him in his arms. "Now, I want you to answer our questions, okay?"
"Everything that you wish, Master," Harry assured him, and Sirius grimaced at his new title, forcing himself not to shout and shake some sense into Harry.
"Harry, why are you calling Sirius 'Master'?" Hermione cautiously took a step forward, uncertainly hovering at the edge of the hospital bed, not sure if she should dare to sit down.
Harry seemed confused. "Because he is my master. Should I be calling him something else?" He turned pleading eyes towards the tall veela. "Don't you like it, Master?"
"To be honest, Harry, no, I don't like it very much," Sirius murmured, and Harry's face fell. "I'm not your master, Harry, so there's no need to call me that. Call me Sirius, will you?"
"But you are," Harry exclaimed desperately clutching to his robes. "Don't you want me anymore? I promise, I'll be better. Just tell me what you want. I'll do it... Please, Master Sirius, don't be angry with me. I promise I'll be good. Don't get rid of me, please, please, please, please..."
"Shh, Harry, I'm not getting rid of you." Sirius sighed, only finding helpless faces as he looked around at the others. "I love you. You're my mate, I'm your mate, but I'm not your master. Whoever gave you that idea? Who said I was your master, hm?"
"I... I don't know," Harry whispered. "No one told me that you were my dominant either."
"Okay, this is getting us nowhere," Remus intervened. "Harry, tell me, are you really not afraid of me any longer?"
"Should I be afraid?" Harry asked back, looking at Sirius for the appropriate answer.
"No, Harry, it's not that," Hermione tried to explain. "But you used to be afraid, so what we're really asking is: What is different now?"
Harry shrugged uncaringly. "You always know everything, so why are you asking me?"
"Man, you don't have to snap at Mione because you are confused." Ron looked mildly affronted and definitely reproachful.
"I'm not confused," Harry stated. "You're confused and you're trying to confuse me. I know everything I need to know."
"And what is that, my dear boy?" Dumbledore spoke up, and Harry glared at him as if telling him to keep his nose out their business.
"Sirius is my mate and master."
The others unsuccessfully waited for him to say something more.
Finally, Sébastien cleared his throat, but instead of asking another question, he turned to Sirius, who was looking close to a nervous breakdown. "Maybe you should tell Harry to go to sleep. He still needs rest."
"Yeah," Sirius' normally rich deep voice sounded slightly hoarse. "Yeah, Harry, I think you should take a little nap, yes? I'll be right here when you wake up."
"Yes, Master Sirius." Harry smiled at him before dozing off almost immediately, resting lightly against the Animagus' chest.
Sirius sighed, carefully getting out from under his small mate and tucking him in before he silently led the others outside. "What is going on here? Sébastien?"
"My guess is that you established a Master-Slave Bond rather than a Love Bond," he answered carefully. "Harry acts like that in any case."
"What? But that's not possible. It can't be possible. I don't want this Harry. I want my Harry back," Sirius all but shouted, tugging on his black hair.
"It is possible, Sirius," Sébastien said softly. "It is even very likely from what you have told us. Your emotional and mental bonding wasn't completed yet, you just had a fight, Harry's hands were bound, he didn't enjoy himself nor did he reach completion. Those are not the best premises for a good and stable Love Bond, Sirius, you know that yourself."
"But this will pass, won't it?" Ron spoke up, not sounding any less desperate than the shadow veela. "It's just like the flu. Once Harry realises that we all want the old him back, he'll go back to normal, right?"
"Don't you know anything, boy?" Lucius sneered, his silver eyes spitting fire. "A bond, no matter what kind of bond, is eternal. It can't be broken, and it won't just pass off because you don't like it."
"Yeah, you like that of course, don't you, you bastard?" the redhead shouted back, glaring at him, for once glad about his impressive height - what a satisfaction to be able to glare down at the tall blond! "To see Harry reduced to a slave."
"That's quite enough, boys." Dumbledore shot them both significant glances. "This is not the time to exchange insults and revive old family feuds."
"I read about this," Hermione murmured more to herself, blushing as she became aware of the attention she was attracting. "When they were still selling submissives they always used this bond because it's simple and doesn't require any form of acceptance from the sub. And because it has hardly any consequences for the master. What Harry now says or does doesn't reflect his own feelings and opinions but only Sirius'. That's his only aim now: to please his master and obey all of his commands."
"Well, then I'll just tell him that I don't want to be his master and that he should start acting normal again," Sirius declared, refusing to see any fault in his logic even as Remus shook his head.
"Paddy, it doesn't work like this. If you tell him you don't want to be his master, he'll feel rejected. To him this is acting normal," Remus told him. "For him, acting normal is obeying you and making you happy. If you tell him to stop you'll have to tell him what to do instead. You can't just make it undone, Sirius, it's just not possible."
"I won't just sit back and accept this!" Sirius shouted. "I won't have this shell of Harry! I won't! I promised him to take care of him and that everything would be better once we were bonded and now he is dead! He's dead, Merlin be damned! He won't feel unless I feel something and he won't do anything unless I tell him to. This is not a life! This is not a life for Harry. He deserves so much more..."
He broke down in sobs, and Remus put a comforting hand around his shaking shoulders, mumbling comforting nothings in response to his desperate pleas.