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Slivers of lightning chase each other through the sky, the momentum dragging Sirius with them. Thunder cracks beside Sirius’ ears, deafening them. He tumbles through the sky and collides face with the moonlit rolling fields surrounding the Potter Manor. The upstairs lights glow with soft lights drawing Sirius in, clothes dancing themselves into the linen closet. The rough gravel below their feet drowned out by the voices screaming in his head. The white pillar archway held Sirius’ weight as he slowly collapses on the front porch, “James,” he whispers with the last of their energy. Consciousness slowly ebbs away as exhaustion wins the war.
James stumbles down the wide stairway to the entrance hall. They open the big oak doors, discovering his best friend slumped over with a trail of red running down the side of his head.
“Pads? Pads!” They cry, sliding across the wooden deck. He pulls Sirius onto their lap.
“Jamie?” He whispers, their head rolling to the side, resting on James’ thigh.
“Mum! Help!” James screams, desperation flowing out of his mouth like rain falling in a thunderstorm.
Grogginess crushes Sirius as they slowly open his eyes. A rough, calloused hand grips his left hand, rubbing small circles in the back.
“Pads, thank Merlin.” Remus’ hand tightens around Siruis’. A soft ‘Sirius Black’ grin shines through clouds of exhaustion. “What happened, my love?”
“The Black Family tradition.” They croak. “Beating the shit out of the kids, leaving them to bleed to death.” The door cracks open to show a caramel eye with soft golden skin. “Hey, man. Thanks for this morning.”
“This morning? Padfoot… you got here three days ago. You’ve been barely in and out of consciousness. Remus, here is our lucky charm. He got here a few hours ago and hasn’t left your side.”
“We should let you rest, and you still haven’t got some colour back in your face.” Remus lightly pushes Sirius’ shoulders backwards onto the pillows and kisses his forehead gently. “Rest, my love. You’ve earned it.”
Remus wearily joins James in the hallway, immediately feeling arms wrapped around his torso, pulling him down far enough for James to rest his chin on Remus’ shoulder. “Thanks, man. I’m really worried about them. It’s been three days, and that’s the most awake he’s been.”
“Come downstairs with me. Mum is making Pepper-Up potion for Pads while lunch is cooking.”
“I’ll be down soon. I need to grab something from the guest room.”
“Alright, man,” James says, gently clapping Remus on the shoulder.
Remus hugs the wall of the mezzanine on his slow walk back to the guest room. His feet hit the floor with the grace of a ballerina, afraid to be scolded for a slight misstep. He cracks the door and slips in, the cavernous roof shrinking Remus, making everything else in the room feel like giants. He slides down the door. The smoothed wood allows him to snake into the foetal position. His breath rapidly became shallower and sharper.
Everything was too good for him. If he touched anything, he would ruin it. If he did anything, it would be wrong.