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Sirius' hands were shaking.
He stood in front of the sink, hands held under the steady flow of ice cold water.
In the mirror, was a familiar person; he had the same black hair, the same gleaming silver eyes, the same famous Black cheekbones. He had the same antler tattoos on his upper back, and the same piercings in his ear and eyebrow.
In the mirror, was a stranger; the black hair was lank and rumpled instead of the usual silky smooth waves, and the gleam in the silver eyes wasn't the usual one of mischief. No, this gleam was.. blank.
Sirius' hands were bloody.
He had killed, today. Today, he killed his first ever person— a Death Eater. Hardman had been halfway through casting a Killing Curse at James, and Sirius had.. Sirius had lost control. The words had spilled out of his mouth before he even realised what he had done, and the bright, blinding flash of light that had followed had blown Hardman to literal bits, covering Sirius in blood, guts, and pieces of flesh.
Sirius' body and hands were scrubbed clean.
Physically, there was not one thing about his hands that was less than perfectly immaculate. And yet, every time he blinked, he could see the splatters of blood and bits of human flesh that had clung to his skin not more than an hour ago. He could see, with terrifying clarity, the life that he had taken, that he had ended.
Sirius' hands were bloody.
"Sirius."
He didn't move. He did not take his eyes away from the rivulets of water that still ran over his hands, so cold that the tips of his fingers were numb and fast turning blue.
He blinked. Red flashed behind his eyelids.
"Sirius."
James' voice sounded muffled, like he was speaking through a wall. Sirius didn't look away from his hands. The blue tint to his skin was growing more prominent by the minute. The numbness was slowly seeping into his bones.
He blinked, again. Red flashed behind his eyelids, again .
The slapping of bare feet over tiles echoed off the walls of the bathroom, and then James was standing right beside him, reaching an arm out to turn the tap off. Sirius blinked when the stream of freezing water stopped, but didn't move. He could feel the ants crawling over his fingers as the temperature fought to return back to normal, and he stared down at his hands, taking in the slow fading of the bluish tint.
"Sirius, meri jaan ," James murmured right next to his ear, and he sucked in a rattling breath, then blinked.
Red .
Familiar hands settled onto Sirius' shoulders. The warmth from the grip sunk into his bare skin, and he breathed out shakily, unable to tear his eyes away from his hands.
His bloody, crimson, murderer's hands.
Sirius.. Sirius was a murderer.
The urge to laugh struck him so suddenly that he couldn't help but let it erupt. The sound spilled from his lips, bouncing off the walls and growing louder and louder till it rang deafeningly in his ears, till it was the only thing he could hear. He laughed and he laughed, throwing his head back and howling at the ceiling, eyes burning with tears. He laughed till his throat hurt and his voice gave out, cracking halfway through and petering out into nothing.
Then, he slumped forward, clenched his hands into fists, and let out a dry sob.
The hands on his shoulders gripped tighter, and suddenly he was facing James, vision unclear with the tears that still hadn't spilled.
"Sirius," James whispered, moving his hands to cup Sirius' cheeks, pulling his head down so their foreheads rested against each other. Sirius blinked at the warmth of his touch and felt two drops slip silently down each cheek till they smeared across James' index fingers. "Sirius, sitara , Sirius— please ."
Please, let me help .
Sirius swallowed and tried to speak, but the lump in his throat made it difficult to get any words out. He opened his mouth, then closed it, then opened it again, but he still couldn't bring himself to say anything.
James understood.
He always understood everything, when it came to Sirius; when he wanted to speak, when he didn't, when he wanted but couldn't.
Sirius stood there, hands limp at his sides, as James wrapped his arms around his waist and tugged him into a hug. Like this, the inches he had on James were very obvious, and Sirius let James tuck his own head under his chin, but he didn't hug back.
He did not want to touch James.
Not now, when his hands were drenched in blood. Not when he had committed murder not even an hour ago.
He would not— could not — touch James, because he was James . He was everything good and pure about this world, he was everything untouched by darkness, everything virtuous and moral, everything noble and just. He was the very air Sirius breathed, the water he drank, the one thing that got him out of bed every morning. James was the sun, bright and warm and life giving, and Sirius?
Sirius did not want to sully him with his blood stained touch. He did not want to— he could not — touch James with the same hands that had lifted a wand with the intent to murder.
Sirius had no illusions about himself.
He knew, if it came down to choosing between James and his own innocence, he would choose James in one tenth of a heartbeat. He would murder, time and time again, if it meant James stayed alive and by his side, until the very end. He would do it again, he knew he would.
"Sirius," James spoke into the skin of his throat, "hug me back."
Sirius closed his eyes and clenched his fists, a dull pain growing in his chest right where his heart was. He loathed refusing James.
"No."
"Sirius," James said again, in the same tone and same volume, "hug me back. Please ."
And because Sirius was so, so weak for James— was so, so ready to give him anything he asked for— he obediently wrapped his arms around James. He relaxed slightly, but was careful not to let his palms touch him.
It felt good.
Hugging James always felt good. Sirius' fingers were still freezing, and he was still shaking, but James' warmth was sinking deep into his flesh till it reached his bones. Sirius closed his eyes, biting the inside of his lip when the image of Hardman exploding into bits appeared again, burned into the back of his eyelids like a brand.
Hardman.
He knew the man's name.
James' hug suddenly felt like it was the only thing supporting him.
Sirius slumped into James like the strings holding him up had been cut, dropping his head forward to bury his face into the messy black hair that he loved so much and breathing in the smell of the familiar shampoo— chandan and mogra . A rough sob burst from his lips, and James curled into him, so tight that it almost cut off his breathing.
He couldn't stop the tears anymore. They rolled down his cheeks and dripped down his chin into James' hair and Sirius did nothing but stand there, tremors wracking his body, holding James close but still careful not to let his palms touch him.
He wouldn't stain the good in the world with his bloody hands.
James was murmuring something in his ears, but Sirius couldn't hear it. His own crying drowned out every other sound, shuddering through his body like earthquakes. Slowly the two of them sank to the floor, bare knees pressed to cold, hard tile, still wrapped around each other.
James pulled him to the floor and made him lean against the wall. Sirius curled his arms around James to pull him into his lap, tears streaming down his cheeks and into the familiar messy hair.
Hardman. The man's name was Vincent Hardman.
Hardman had tried to kill James. Sirius' James.
And so Sirius had killed him, instead.
Better him than James, he had thought, and that was the root of the problem, wasn't it?
Sirius did not feel one ounce of regret for Hardman's death. Not a single thought that had crossed his mind had been about regretting his first kill. No, if Sirius regretted anything, it was the fact that he did not regret at all. Better Hardman than Jamie. Better Hardman than his darling, beautiful Jamie, who had come so close to being taken from Sirius.
The thought had Sirius clutching James closer and muffling another heaving sob in his hair.
"Jamie—" his voice cracked, and James shushed him, slowly rocking them back and forth like he was a child.
"Shh, I know, priye ," he said, voice smooth and soothing, sounding like honey sliding down Sirius' throat. "I know. It's okay."
"It's not."
Sirius sounded terrible— rough and scratchy. He pulled away from the hug, vision blurred and the point between his eyebrows throbbing with pain.
"It's not," he repeated, two more tears sliding off his chin when he blinked. "It's not okay."
"Sirius," James said firmly, raising his head from under Sirius' chin to look him in the eyes. "It was not okay."
Sirius knew that. It was not okay to murder someone and then not feel guilty. To kill someone, and then to not be remorseful… he was no better than the rest of his family.
Sirius was no better than fucking Bella .
"It was cruel—" James said, and Sirius knew it was. Sirius was cruel, Sirius did not feel regret, Sirius did not— "of Hardman to expect you to choose between me and the mission."
Sirius blinked.
What?
"What."
His flat tone made him want to wince; that was one type of voice he loathed using on James. James— Sirius' darling, beautiful Jamie— simply stared at him earnestly.
"It was cruel of Hardman to expect you to choose between me and the mission," James repeated. "All of us knew you would choose me."
And that— James' utter conviction that he would always, always be Sirius' first priority— that was exhilarating. A soft warmth bubbled in Sirius' chest for a few seconds. James knew what he was to Sirius. James knew what Sirius would do for him, if necessary, and he still stuck around.
"I would," he admitted in a whisper, a secret murmured for James' ears only. "I would choose you. No matter what, no matter where, how or why."
James smiled. It was Sirius' smile, the side of James that only he got to see— gentle, quiet, calm. Comforting. Sirius' safe place. Sirius' person.
"I know," came the soft reply, and Sirius tugged James back into a hug, pressing a kiss to his forehead and then tucking his face under his chin. He was careful not to let his palms touch him.
"I love you," he said, and felt the gentle press of lips against his throat.
"I love you too."
Sirius stared at the opposite wall. It was white, made of tile, and so bright it hurt his eyes. He couldn't look away. That white… he blinked. Red splatters flashed in his mind's vision.
"I killed someone."
James didn't move. "I know."
Sirius blinked. Pieces of Hardman's flesh landed on his boots. The white tile of the bathroom wall stared back at him mockingly.
"I don't regret it."
"I don't expect you to."
Sirius felt a flash of something , burning through his veins and blinding his vision and raging across— no .
This was James. He would not get angry at James.
"I'm a murderer."
"I don't care."
Fuck, this was too much. James' body was warm against his, Sirius' fingers were cold where they refused to touch James, and their hearts beat a coordinated rhythm where their chests touched.
It was too much.
"Sirius."
Sirius blinked. Hardman's black eyes, wide and fearful, swam in and out of sight.
"Hug me properly," James said. "Place your palms on my back."
Sirius' heart twisted in his ribcage. He did not do as James asked him to. The silence stretched for a few seconds before James spoke again, in the same tone and the same volume.
"Sirius. Hug me properly."
Sirius swallowed silently. He did not move his hands. "No."
" Sirius ."
"No, Jamie," he whispered, voice ripped at the edges and rough in the centre. His heart stuttered, squeezing painfully till his eyes were shut tight and his nose was buried in James' hair. " Please . You're the one good thing in my life. The one bright light. I don't want to—"
Ruin you with the touch of blood. Taint you with imprints of a murderer's hands .
Without Sirius saying a word, James understood.
He pushed up, disentangling from Sirius' hug and kneeling between his legs to cup his cheeks in rough, calloused hands.
Sirius closed his eyes and savoured the touch, taking in the feel of the hardened skin from years of gripping a broom handle. This was James. Sirius' James. His person.
"Sirius."
He opened his eyes.
James looked at him, chocolate brown eyes gleaming with determination and eyebrows set in a way that told Sirius he wholeheartedly believed in whatever he was about to say.
"Sirius," James repeated, "I couldn't give less of a shit about what you did today. You are Sirius, you are perfect, and you are mine. Nothing and no one will ever change that."
Fuck. Fuck.
Sirius huffed out a laugh, harsh and jarring.
"I know, James," he answered honestly, because he did know. He and James… they went beyond friendship, beyond love. They just were . James and Sirius. Sirius and James. Two halves of a whole.
But James was white and Sirius was black, and white when mixed with black turned grey.
Sirius would not— could not — taint James.
"Listen to me, Sirius Orion," James said obstinately. "You're powerful, but not so powerful that you will change me for the worse. Don't give yourself that much credit."
Sirius snorted, because that was such a James answer, and really, why had he expected anything else from his boyfriend?
"You will hug me properly, you will touch me how I want you to touch me, and you will let me love you the way I want you to be loved, because that is what we both deserve."
Sirius stared at James, awe and devotion and love and affection swirling in his mind till all he could think about was James, James , James .
"And even if you could taint me," James declared, "you think I wouldn't want to be tainted by you? You're mine, Sirius, but more than that, I'm yours. Do whatever you please, and I won't care. In fact, I'll embrace it. I'm yours, Sirius— taint me, destroy me, love me— whatever you want. I'll accept it."
Sirius couldn't speak. James' eyes were bright and earnest and beautiful, just like the rest of him, and Sirius never wanted to look away. He never wanted to focus on anything but James. His darling James. His love. His everything .
"I love you," he answered after a pause. Reverence sang through his hoarse voice, obvious and unhidden. "I love you, James Potter; all of you, all your faults and all your virtues. I'm yours; you ask and I'll give. That's how it should be."
He sucked in a rattling breath.
"You ask me to love you— you have my love. You asked me to hug you, and I'm sorry for denying you. Never again."
He dragged James down for a kiss, soft and tender, and for a moment he could imagine the tangy taste of blood between their tongues— Hardman's blood.
He shifted forward, sliding his hands over James' thighs and gripping them right, hauling them off the bathroom floor and walking towards the bedroom.
James asked him to love him, and Sirius did.
He lowered James onto the bed with the most gentleness he could muster, layering his own body over his and pressing a probing kiss to his lips. James responded beautifully, sliding his hands over Sirius' jaw, lowering them till he reached the button at Sirius' collar.
They undressed slowly between soft kisses and tender touches, whispering each other's names like it was a secret; only for them to know.
Sirius loved James, and he proved it with every kiss he laid on James' lips, every touch he left on James' body, every sigh and moan he pulled from James as they moved against each other.
James' nails dug into his back hard enough to draw blood, his voice murmuring through moans that he had blood on his hands now, too, and Sirius had nothing to worry about. Sirius' fingers gripped James' hips tight enough that they both knew there would be bruises tomorrow, but James asked for more, and Sirius gave him more.
Piece by piece Sirius took James apart, urged on by the sounds he made, and put him back together. Sirius touched him, bloody hands dragging across soft brown flesh, leaving behind invisible imprints of Sirius' mistakes. Sirius touched James as he was asked to, marking— tainting — him with blood-stained hand prints.
Later as they lay in bed wrapped around each other, and Sirius tucked James' head under his chin, James pressed a soft kiss to his shoulder.
"If you're the one tainting me, Sirius Black," he murmured into his skin, sending goosebumps skittering over his skin, "then I'll gladly bathe in blood every day of the rest of my life."