To Whom It May Concern (or There's No Guarantee)

By Richan

Disclaimer: I don't own anything here but the angsty plot.

AN: Thanks to everyone that's reviewed. It helped me get through this dark thing the story has become.

Part 2

"Remy, can we go see Harry now?" Sirius asked excitedly as he looked over the room that would become his godson's tomorrow when they brought him home for the holiday break.

Remus smiled complacently and smoothed the bedcovers one last time.

"Didn't you say that you wanted to wait until tomorrow so that you could ride the train back to London together?"

Sirius wore a sheepish look. "I can't wait until then. Maybe Albus will let us take him now instead of surprising him tomorrow?" His mood brightened with a huge smile and he left the room. "I think I'll go ask now."

Remus shook his head and slowly followed.

Sirius grabbed a pinch of the powder that lay in the red jar, the fine substance staining his fingers slightly with its amber color. Throwing it into the fire that crackled merrily in its fireplace, he called, "Headmaster's office, Hogwarts."

He frowned when there was no reply. That was strange, Albus usually sat in his office after lunch, and if he did leave, there was usually a message waiting for any one who had fire called. Sirius turned to Remus with a puzzled look.

"Do you think that something's wrong?" he asked.

Remus shrugged slightly.

"Maybe we can help," Sirius suggested in a hopeful manner.

Remus nodded. "Let's go."

******

Dumbledore slowly made his way down to the hospital wing of Hogwarts. His steps were slow and methodical, as if he were walking to his death. All the while, his hands clutched a couple pieces of parchment to his chest in the tightest grip he could manage.

He knew that he would have to let Sirius and Remus know that something had happened to Harry, but he couldn't seem to bring himself to feel anything but self-hatred at the moment. It hurt to know that he himself had had a hand in bringing this kind of pain to such a beautiful soul as Harry, but it hurt even worse that he didn't see the consequences of his actions. He had been so sure that the boy had been handling everything so well - he had never seen anything wrong.>

That should have been his first clue that something was wrong. Before the war, Harry's face had been an open book to his actions, and his eyes to his soul. In the two months since that day when he had ended the second war with Voldemort, the brilliant green eyes were duller than they had ever been. In the midst of the war, Dumbledore hadn't taken the time to look at those eyes. There had been so much to do, so many to protect, that he had forgotten about those that didn't have anybody there to help. He had forgotten about Harry needing to see his godfather more, that he didn't have any other family to rely on to help him cope with all the horrors he had seen.

Instead, he had seen a boy who was as brave as his ancestor and breezed through the tough times with barely a scratch on his soul.

"Albus?"

Sirius then.

Dumbledore turned around to find the man and Remus walking towards him with concerned looks.

"What's wrong?" Remus asked when they got closer.

Shaking his head, he opened his mouth to say something. For the first time, though, he had no words. Turning, he finished the last couple of steps to the infirmary. Behind him he could almost feel the looks exchanged by the two men, but he couldn't offer them any consolation for what was coming.

"Albus?" Poppy asked as they came through the door, her grief leaking through her voice. "Sirius? Remus? Are you here to see Harry?"

Out of the corner of his eye, Dumbledore could see the panic rising in Sirius' eyes.

"I didn't tell them, Poppy," he said as he turned to the two younger men. Subconsciously he noticed that he was still clutching Harry's letter in a death grip.

"What's wrong with Harry?" Sirius screeched out.

Dumbledore turned sad eyes to the closed door behind Poppy before looking back at Sirius and Remus. Holding tight to the letter, he said, "Harry...."

"Harry, what?" Remus asked, his concern etched into lines around his mouth.

Poppy gave a slight sniffle before answering. "He tried to commit suicide last night."

Dumbledore watched in shock as Sirius' eyes widened before going blank as he passed out. Next to him, Remus stared at the nurse.

"No," he said. "It can't be true." Remus shook his head violently. "You have to be wrong."

Poppy shook her head. "He's resting right now, but he lost too much blood by the time Severus found him this morning." She sighed sadly. "I don't think he will pull through."

Remus slumped onto the floor next to Sirius.

Dumbledore looked to Poppy, who sighed in that sad way again, and began the process of levitating Sirius to the bed next to where Harry lay. The headmaster took this time to watch the young man, his skin the palest he had ever seen it being. It had never been like this, even after he had come back with Cedric's body at the end of the Tri-Wizard Tournament. Sadness flowed through him when he remembered how much Harry had been clinging to the other boy's body, like it was his anchor to reality and if he was separated from it he would drift away.

He felt somebody walk up next to him and Dumbledore turned to find Remus looking at Harry, tears streaking down his cheeks. The younger man didn't even seem to realize that he was crying as he looked at the boy in the bed.

"How...?" Remus' voice was strained with emotion as he turned drowning amber eyes at the headmaster.

"He cut his wrists," Dumbledore answered quietly. "He cut them diagonally, rather than a straight cut. It kept him from dying, but the blood loss was great when he was found."

The two men were quiet, listening to Poppy's bustling about Sirius to make sure he was all right.

"You said Severus found him?" Remus finally asked as Poppy left the room.

Dumbledore nodded. "He's down in his rooms. I - finding Harry was very hard on him this morning."

Remus nodded. "Is that - that's a note from him?" he asked, a shaky finger pointing at the parchment in Dumbledore's hand.

The headmaster held them out. "You should sit down to read it, Remus," he said, guiding the younger man to the chair that sat between the two occupied beds. He turned sorrowful eyes at the boy that was lying so still on the bed. "I will be in Poppy's office if you need me or when Sirius wakes up."

******

Sirius looked up from the parchment, not heeding the hot tears that poured from his eyes. A tight fist seemed to have taken up residence in his chest, and the more that he had read, the tighter it had become.

He had woken up to a sobbing Remus, the other man's grief looking as if it were tearing him apart. Sliding quietly off the bed he found himself lying on, he looked over to the other bed on which Harry lay. The boy he had come to love as if he were another extension of himself was pale, his skin white with a near-death pallor.

It was only when he had picked up Harry's hand had Remus known that he was awake.

Sirius had been taken aback by the eyes that had been turned to him. Never had he seen such powerful emotions in his friend's eyes, seeming to be running near the speed of light. They were too quick for him to read, but he got the feeling that things weren't looking good.

"Harry...?" Sirius managed to croak out.

Remus shook his head and gave another sob. "Poppy.... Poppy doesn't think he's going to make it. She - she said he lost too much blood."

Sirius felt his face drain of all color.

No! He couldn't lose Harry now, not when everything was so settled! He was supposed to take his godson into his house and give him the home Sirius had wanted to give since he had found the Potter house in rubble that Halloween all those years ago. They were supposed to do all kinds of things that people did together - go to quidditch games and play pranks on the Slytherins and do all manner of goofy, fun things that Sirius had planned to do when Harry had grown up when he'd first been invited to be his godfather.

Slinking down to the floor, Sirius shook his head. "Why...?" He looked up at the bed and wanted Harry to sit up and tell him why he had made those horrible gashes on his wrists and why he felt he wanted to die when it seemed like his life was finally his own.

Remus joined him on the floor and grabbed some parchment that looked like he had dropped it after reading. Silently, he handed Sirius the parchment.

Now that he was through reading it, he didn't know what to think. He hadn't realized that Harry had believed that he wasn't worthy of anything. Never had he thought that Harry had never seen the affection he had given to the boy. He wanted to go back in time and show his godson just how much he loved him and wanted him in his life and that he wasn't just a connection to his father.

What bothered him the most was that Harry had feared that Sirius would reject him for loving him. He had never thought of his godson that way, but he wouldn't have thrown the boy out of his life. Now it was all he could think about. Why hadn't he seen that Harry was alone and just wanted someone to call his own? Why hadn't he known that Harry needed the words when all Sirius had given him were actions that could be misconstrued by someone who had never known what it was like to be wanted for himself?

Sirius scrambled off the floor, almost knocking Remus fully onto the floor. Jumping onto Harry's bed, he lay next to the boy and buried his head in his neck.

"Don't you leave me, Harry James Potter!" he shouted. "Don't you leave me alone! I need you in my life to live, and if you aren't here, I will be joining you!" He could barely get the words out as his grief filled his whole being. "Don't leave me, please," he whispered in Harry's ear before burying his face in the boy's hair. "Please. I love you."

******

'Severus looks tired,' was the first thought that crossed Dumbledore's mind the second he crossed the threshold to the man's chambers.

Poppy had sent him here once she had gotten Harry stabilized, knowing that Severus was not emotionally up to staying in the hospital wing. Before he had, he had come to see Dumbledore with the note he had found next to Harry deep in the heart of the dungeons. It was only, Dumbledore knew, that because of Severus' insomnia and his frequent walks through the abandoned dungeons that he had found Harry.

Dumbledore wondered briefly how Harry had known that such a place existed. He knew that he hadn't memorized the map his father and Sirius had made, and even the Slytherins, who lived in this part of the castle, went out of their way to avoid it.

Shaking his head, he turned and noticed that Severus was sleeping in his bed. The normally pale skin was even whiter than usual, an indication that all was not well with the Potions master. He hoped that this situation was not going to get worse. As self-centered as it seemed, he would not be able to handle the loss of such brilliant and worthy people.

'Worthy,' Dumbledore thought, Harry's letter coming to his mind. Both of these children had never seen themselves as worthy of anything in their lives. All he could do now is hope that this wouldn't push Severus off the edge he had been teetering on for a long time.

Making sure that Severus was comfortable, Dumbledore began the journey back to the hospital wing. He had left it once he had known that Sirius wasn't going to do any harm to himself and that Remus was okay as well. He and Poppy had been alerted to Sirius' waking up with his shouts. It had been painful to watch as one of the strongest men Dumbledore had ever known had broken at this. He knew they would have to watch Sirius if Harry....

No. He couldn't think that way at the moment. Not if he wanted to make it through this himself.

Watching the two on the bed as they slept, as well as the one slumped in the chair next to it, all Dumbledore could think was 'how could I have prevented this from happening?'

He was startled out of the 'what-ifs' running through his head when the door to the hospital wing opened to a whispering Ron and Hermione, who stopped dead in their tracks when they caught sight of their missing friend laying on the bed, Sirius, sleeping under sedation, wrapped around Harry in a grip that wouldn't be loosened even after death.

Dumbledore watched as Ron paled, the fading, long scar that ran along one cheek having more color than the rest of his face. Hermione was gasping for breath as she turned disbelieving eyes to the headmaster.

"Headmaster?" the girl managed to get out, even though Dumbledore could see her gulping spastically around some lump in her throat.

He solemnly nodded. Hermione seemed to have worked out what had happened, even though Poppy had tucked one of Harry's arms back under the covers, the other hidden from view by Sirius.

"Hermione? What...?" Ron asked.

"Is he going to be all right?" she asked, ignoring her boyfriend's question.

Dumbledore slowly shook his head. "Madame Pomfrey does not think so."

Hermione's hands went to her mouth as she gave a choked sob.

"What is it?" Ron asked, panic in his voice.

Taking pity on the boy, Dumbledore answered, "Harry tried to commit suicide yester eve - " he was interrupted briefly by a half-muttered 'no' from the red head " - and has lost too much blood for a chance at recovery."

He watched the two teenagers in the same shocked state he had been in since Severus had entered his office this morning. Hermione groped wildly at Ron, who had a devastated look on his face. Dumbledore was shocked, since he hadn't worn such a thing even after being told that his parents had died protecting the Burrow after having evacuated their remaining children.

"No," Ron shouted. "It's not possible! Why would he do such a thing?"

His shouts woke up Remus, who had been dozing fitfully in the chair.

"Ron," his husky voice cut through the boy's ranting. "Did he say anything to you these past few months?"

He watched, as the red head shook his head 'no.'

"Anything at all?" he asked again.

"No," Ron slowly answered. His eyes were glued to the bed where Harry and Sirius lay. "In fact we didn't talk much at all."

Remus sighed. He'd been hoping that Harry had said something as a tip off of what he was planning, but just knowing the he hadn't talked to his best friend was chilling. Harry had probably been feeling isolated from the rest of the world as they tried to adjust to the shock the war had brought with it. Still, they should have seen the problems that had been laying just at the surface.

And yet, he knew that Harry had also tried to hide his pain and done it very well. When they had gone to Godric's Hollow, the boy had seemed to be adjusting back to a normal life. Admittedly, Remus and Sirius had been trying to find out just what Harry wanted from the things that had survived in the blast that had torn the house apart so that they could put them in his new room. Both of them had made several affectionate gestures that Harry must not have realized what they really were. Remus remembered patting him on the shoulders several times and Sirius had ruffled his hair on more than one occasion.

Maybe they had spent so much time on getting everything ready for Harry that they had forgotten to ask Harry what he wanted. To know what they were planning on doing. But neither of them had given a thought to the mental state Harry was truly in. They hadn't thought to look beneath the surface to the pain that lingered there.

And if what he was feeling was bad, Remus knew that Sirius was in hell. Wanting to protect and love Harry had been all that had kept Sirius sane all the time he was in Azkaban and on the run. Even these last four months of freedom hadn't changed his every waking thought of keeping Harry safe.

He didn't realize he'd started crying until a handkerchief was waved in his face. Looking up, he gave a wobbly half-smile to Dumbledore in thanks since he didn't think that his voice would work anymore. He looked over to where Harry's friends had gone as he wiped his eyes. The two teenagers had taken the news very hard and Remus couldn't blame them. It was *very* bad news to hear.

******

Sirius wanted to stay in the blackness he'd been in. Here he didn't have to know anything, couldn't see anything, and more importantly, have to *feel* anything. But eventually it had to end as much as he wanted it to go on forever.

Cracking open one eye, he discovered that it was dark out and the infirmary had been put to bed. Leaning up on one elbow, he looked down at Harry to find him in that same unconscious state he'd been in. Sirius ran a gentle hand along the side of his face, the smooth skin with a hint of stubble a startling contrast to the calluses on his fingers and palm.

After have made sure that Harry hadn't gotten worse, Sirius half sat up and looked around the room to find it empty of everything but the two of them. He looked past the partly-open door to see a shaft of light coming from further down the wing where Madam Pomfrey had her quarters, and he could hear Remus' soft snoring coming from next door. Satisfied that his friend was taken care of for the moment, he turned his attention back to Harry.

He was startled when he found a pair of dull, green eyes looking at him.

"Harry?" he asked in a voice made raspy by his previous crying.

"Siri..."

Harry's voice was small and filled with pain and self-hatred and nothing like Sirius wanted it to sound.

"Harry," he said again, running his hand down the side of Harry's face once more.

"I want to die, Siri...."

Sirius' heart stopped with the words. He could tell that Harry meant them with all of his heart. But he couldn't let his godson go. He just couldn't.

"Don't leave me, Harry. Don't leave me alone," he whispered in a desperate voice. "Don't leave me with nothing."

******

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