Ron and Hermione stood next to the hospital bed that was occupied by their once best friend.

"Harry, I do hope you wake up."

Ron nodded. "I can't believe you never told us you were alive, mate. We've went years thinking you were dead. Years in mourning, and then, suddenly we might be in mourning again. Please wake up, I don't think your mom could handle losing you again."

...

"Ron, have you seen Harry anywhere?"

"Nope." Ron uttered, his focus on the chessboard between him and Neville.

Hermione folded her arms and humphed. "I told him I would help him study for his potions' OWL's. Snape will have his head if he doesn't pass the exam."

"Why? Snape hates Harry."

"Because, Ronald, Harry wants to be an auror and to do that he has to be in the upper division potions' class, and like it or not, Snape is a professor and he still has to help Harry achieve his dreams."

Hermione took a seat next to Ron, only to stand abruptly when the portrait hole swung open. "Harry!"

"'lo, 'Mione." He slurred.

"Harry?" She asked, examining his face. "Harry! You smell sweet!"

"What?" He said. "I feel great. Don't be anxious."

"What did you take?" Hermione demanded. This wasn't the first time he had come home out of sorts. "How much did you take?"

"Draught of Peace...and...I dunno, one phial?"

"Harry!"

...

The end of fifth year met Harry, Hermione, and Ron with a light feeling they hadn't felt in a long time.

"Are you excited for the party tonight, Mate?" Ron asked Harry.

"Yeah, Hermione, are you coming?"

"Unfortunately, yes. I actually have to chaperone."

The three eventually made their way to the Room of Requirement for the end of the year party. Since they were going to be sixth years, they had been invited to the upper year's party.

They entered the room, and Harry disappeared and came back with drinks. "Water for you, 'Mione." He said, taking a swig of whatever was in his own glass.

Before they knew it, the party was over and Ron and Hermione were searching for their friend. "I can't believe you let him get out of your sight. I told you that I didn't think he should be drinking."

"Hermione, I am not his mother. What was I supposed to do, bind him?

Hermione exhaled, "I don't know. I hope he's okay. I can't find him. Let's just go back to the common room and wait."

1:00AM came and went, and Ron was still waiting for Harry to return. And eventually, he did.

"Shh!" Someone slurred from above Ron.

"Mate?" he asked, recognizing that it was Harry, and that he was very, very drunk. "You're sloshed, mate."

Harry laughed, "Yeah. I feel great."

"Harry, come on, let's get you to bed."

"'m fine. I can walk by m'self." He began to step forward, only to stumble, and laugh "Maybe not. I was fine when Dean 'n me were comin' back."

Ron sighed, getting used to Harry coming home pissed on the weekends. He did his best to not inform Hermione. "Come on." He looped his arm around Harry's waist, and began to haul the other boy up the stairs. "Is Dean okay?"

Harry nodded. "Didn't drink 's much 's me."

Ron sighed. "How much did you have?"

"Dunno. Lots?"

"What did you have?"

"Someone snuck Firewhiskey in. Think there was muggle tequila too?"

"Do you feel sick?"

"A bit."

"So basically, I'll be making sure you stay near the toilet tonight?"

Harry turned green. "Probably."

...

"I didn't think I'd ever see him again, let alone clean." Hermione said as the couple walked back to the waiting area.

Ron nodded in agreement, his voice currently failing him.

"They're back, Sirius. Are you ready?"

Sirius hummed in agreement. "I guess." He didn't want to face Harry. All he could think about was how he had failed him, as a Godfather and as a professor. He had missed all of the signs, writing them off as nothing more than reckless youth. He and James had been occasional drinkers themselves in school.

"Sirius?" Remus inquired, his hand outstretched. Sirius grabbed it and smiled sadly.

"Let's go."

Sirius was walking slightly behind Remus, fiddling with the ring on his finger when they walked into the stall. Remus let out a big breath of air and Sirius made a strangled noise from the back of his throat.

"He's really here."

...

Sirius signed and dated the paper -pointless, mind you- work. He had written the date 15-4-07 so many times that he hadn't even noticed what he was signing anymore.

A knocking on his door broke the gaze he held on the paper, and he casually called for the student to enter.

"Hey, Padfoot."

"Harry! To what do I owe the pleasure?"

"I had a question about wordless spells."

"Ah, today's lesson. Why weren't you in class this morning?"

"I was deathly ill." And Sirius could tell. The boy looked haggard, his clothes were slightly grungy and his hair was greasy. His face was skinnier than it had been months ago, and he had circles under his eyes. The boy smelt faintly of alcohol, but Sirius wasn't going to say anything. He didn't want to be a hypocrite.

"Well then, let me get you the hand out."

Sirius rummaged through the papers on his desk, muttering to himself about how he needed to clean his goddamn desk. "Found it. This is the full work up of the class and class work this morning. The handout also has an introduction for next Monday's class."

"Thanks, Padfoot." Harry smiled.

"No problem. Let me know if you have any more questions."

...

Sirius sat at the head table one Saturday morning early 2008. It was Harry's seventh year, and he had been keeping a careful eye on the boy. He seemed to be getting worse and worse, but the boy refused to listen to anyone, refused help.

"...Another bottle of anxiety potion was missing this morning." Poppy Pomfrey muttered to Severus Snape.

The other man grunted. "My supply has been dwindling as well. The suspect seems to be very good at evading the wards. The Headmaster has been informed but he seems to think that it's just a poor student who is suffering from the exams."

"I hope so. The potion is particularly potent and carries risk of dependency. I suppose we should be grateful that the student is stealing it and not risking making it themselves, what with the complicated process and direct instructions."

Severus hummed, eyeing Harry Potter as he walked into the Great Hall.

Sirius looked at his Godson as well. The boy looked worse for wear. He was skinner than he had ever been, and the color of his skin was a pale grey. His eyes were tired and he seemed fidgety.

Sirius stood, and walked over to the boy and his friends. "...I don't remember what happened last night, no." Harry mumbled, messing the food on his plate.

"Harry, don't you think that's dangerous?"

"I'm fine, aren't I?"

"Not unless you eat." Sirius said, setting his hand on the boy's shoulder. "Eat, you look like death."

Harry rolled his eyes and shrugged the hand off of his shoulder. "I'm not hungry. I'm actually ready to fly a broom. Ron, wanna go play a round of Quidditch?"

Ron nodded, shoving another sausage in his face. "Yeah, 's'go"

Hermione sighed, watching as her friends walked away. "Don't worry so much, Hermione, you'll get wrinkles." The smile on his face didn't reach his eyes. He was pretty sure that Harry was the one who was sneaking potions from Madame Pomfrey and Snape.