Disclaimer: I do not own any of J.K. Rowling's characters, settings, words, so on and so forth.

Note: I've heard this song before, but had never really listened to the words. As I was driving in my car, I started thinking about how this is probably what Harry would say. The song is "Hear You Me" by Jimmy Eat World.

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Harry Potter Apparated into Number 12, Grimmauld Place, the house that he had hoped that he would never have to see again. Unfortunately, there had been no where else he could go where he could safely recuperate from his exhaustion and minor wounds. The task of destroying the Horcruxes was hard and difficult, even with Ron and Hermione's help. They had both been injured when the curse that was holding Hufflepuff's cup rebounded on them-Harry had only escaped injury by quickly erected a shield charm about himself.

Now, with both of his best friends wounded and stuck in St. Mungo's for a week, he needed to be near them, and be somewhere safe. That meant Grimmauld Place.

There's no one in town I know
you gave us some place to go.
I never said thank you for that.
I thought I might get one more chance.

How Sirius had hated this place! Still, as Harry sank down onto a couch after tiptoeing past the portrait of old Mrs. Black, he was grateful for the house now. Where would he have gone, if Sirius hadn't left him this mangy old place? Sirius had always done everything he possibly could for Harry, no matter how hard or how dangerous it was. Whether it was to get up a rescue mission at the Ministry, or to fly back into the country that hated him, he had always given whatever he had. He had given Harry a place to come to, in a situation just like this.

If only I could have told him, thought Harry sadly, as he had so many times before. I just never thought that we would ever be parted…I guess I thought that Sirius was invincible or something. I never thought that there would ever be a last time between us. Memories flooded his mind. Sirius had finally run out of luck, and that meant that Harry could, too.

What would you think of me now,
so lucky, so strong, so proud?
I never said thank you for that,
now I'll never have a chance.

What would Sirius say if he could see Harry now, at this moment? The boy knew that his clothes were nothing more than shreds after having to get past the many angry creatures that had guarded the cup, his face was pale and thin from having little to eat over the past few weeks, and his scar was angry, livid. It stood out like a jet of flame from his forehead, agitated by being so near a piece of Voldemort's soul.

Harry knew that he was very grateful that Sirius would never see him like this. This was perhaps the first time that Harry was able to see past his grief enough to know that a small part of him was glad that Sirius was dead. His godfather would never have to see him fail.

Still, in the deepest recesses of his heart, Harry knew that Sirius wouldn't care what he looked like. He would have cared that Harry had just come one step closer to destroying Voldemort. He would have been proud that Harry mad maneuvered his way out of yet another bad situation, just as he had been proud when Harry had formed the D.A. Harry found himself laughing lightly; Sirius had always approved of anything that was rebellious and brave, even if that meant becoming an illegal Animagus. Yes, even though Harry was a mess, he knew that Sirius would still be proud of him, not of his appearance, but of his victory.


May angels lead you in.
Hear you me my friends.
On sleepless roads the sleepless go.
May angels lead you in.

What had he and Luna heard coming from behind that veil in the Ministry? Those voices, and Nick's small hints, had tortured Harry ever since Sirius' death. Was there even some small chance that Sirius was alive? No, he was beyond the veil of death. Harry would never see him again. Still, that didn't mean that Sirius didn't still love him, somehow. Dumbledore had always said that love was the most powerful magic of all. But love hadn't been enough to bring the old Headmaster back, either…

So what would you think of me now,
so lucky, so strong, so proud?
I never said thank you for that,
now I'll never have a chance.

Dumbledore. Remembering the old man still sent daggers into Harry's heart. Harry now realized that while Sirius had been like a father to him, his godfather had been too close to Harry's real father. Realistically, Sirius had been more like an uncle, but Dumbledore had been Harry's true father figure. Harry had come to realize throughout the past year that Dumbledore had constantly watched over Harry, tried to help him, to guide him through the turmoil and sorrow that Voldemort had caused in the young boy's life. During Harry's fifth year at Hogwarts, Dumbledore had sacrificed his reputation and career to verify his pupil's story of Voldemort's return, and had then sacrificed his job as headmaster so that Harry could stay safe in school. The next year, the thing that still threatened to tear Harry's heart apart happened: Dumbledore had given up his own life so that not only would Harry live, but even Harry's archenemy, Draco Malfoy. Malfoy was supposed to murder Dumbledore, but when the boy hadn't been able to do it, Dumbledore had forced Severus Snape to perform the assassination, so that Malfoy would not be doomed. He was still redeemable.

Harry sighed, still remembering the old man's brutal death. How it had hurt, when he had seen Dumbledore eyes loose their twinkling light! Still, the boy knew without a doubt that wherever Dumbledore was, he was proud of Harry. Proud of the progress that he had made towards killing Voldemort, true, but probably even more proud of the way that Harry had stood strong in the face of the overwhelming sorrow and pain that had threatened to engulf him after the Headmaster's death, as the feelings had when Sirius had died.

May angels lead you in.
Hear you me my friends.
On sleepless roads the sleepless go.
May angels lead you in.
May angels lead you in.
May angels lead you in.

Harry began to drift into sleep while he waited for news on the fate of his friends. Just before he slept, he had a few more last thoughts. Death wasn't strong enough to hold onto men like Sirius and Dumbledore forever. Death had missed a part of them when he had trapped them in his cold snare-he had missed their love. It must be true, for as Harry entered to darkness of sleep, he knew that he felt it clearly, like both men had a grip on his arms and were holding up, helping him through his battles, like they had always done in life.

And if you were with me tonight,
I'd sing to you just one more time.
A song for a heart so big,
god wouldn't let it live.

It sustained him, warmed him, and kept him going through the darkness. And a part of him knew that even if he died with Voldemort, he wouldn't mind terribly much. He'd miss Ron and Hermione, yes, but they'd follow him someday. Besides, Death couldn't capture Harry, either. He knew that his best friends would feel his love for them, even when he was no longer there to show it.

May angels lead you in.
Hear you me my friends.
On sleepless roads the sleepless go.
May angels lead you in.
May angels lead you in.
Hear you me my friends.
On sleepless roads the sleepless go.
May angels lead you in.
May angels lead you in.