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16 March, 1976.
Sirius Black follows Minerva McGonagall into her office. He’s just been handed punishment atop punishment. No more Hogsmeade, banned from Quidditch, and detentions until the end of Fifth year. Not bad, all things considered. He could’ve been sent home. Remus could’ve been murdered. And sure, James probably won’t want to be his friend anymore, but at least they’re not sending him to Azkaban. That’s gotta count for something. Right?
Mcgonagall lowers herself into her maroon chair with a heavy sigh. The quill in front of her scribbles rapidly, taking either her heart rate or her inner monologue. Sirius doesn’t know. Probably for the best.
He refuses to meet her disappointed gaze. Refuses to answer his final impending consequence with a quip or a smile. His hair matted, his clothes crisp, his mouth drawn in a thin line. Never has he looked so much like Walburga Black.
Really, he should be grateful that it’s taken this long for him to turn into his mother. Not everyone is that lucky. To be born into a wicked family and hold off your destiny. Most can’t escape the grasp. He did. Now it’s time for him to embrace the arms that have begged him to come home.
No one is waiting outside the doors of McGonagall’s office for him. Not Remus. Not Mary. Not James. Never Regulus. Any other time, he would be annoyed. Instead, he feels relief. At least when he is killed, no one will see his rotten blood flowing from his veins.
Once more, McGonagall exhales deeply, her fingers pinching the bridge of her nose. The clock above her head, disguised in the head of a rose, ticks and ticks and ticks. The seconds drag. The gavel wavers. She can’t bring herself to speak. Sirius wants to grip her wrinkled mouth and rip it open, stick his hand down and pull her sharp words out himself. Knowing always hurts less than waiting.
“We are not informing your parents of last night’s…incident,” She finally says. “We–I–feel it would be a counterintuitive measure. Do you agree?”
“If I’m not flamed here, I will be there,” Sirius responds bitterly.
“And who allowed that to happen, Sirius?”
Sirius. Not Mr. Black. If this isn’t the lowest he had to go for McGonagall to use his last name, then what, pray tell, is the limit? Does he need to engrave the Dark Mark into his arm? Because he can do that. He’d kill himself before the pain subsided, but he could do that.
It is his destiny, after all.
Sirius doesn’t say anything for a moment. Waits for McGonagall to press on.
“Mr. Potter will have a claw mark wrapping his right leg. Mr. Lupin had to have holes in his abdomen healed. Madam Pomfrey said both will make a full recovery.”
Sirius looks at the exposed beam next to McGonagall’s window. He’s aware of the marks left by Prongs’ antlers. He knows about the claw too, for Moony had grabbed Prongs’ leg and dragged him against the floor. Snape should be grateful; Prongs took all of the hits so that he didn’t have to.
“Sirius? Are you not interested in your friends’ health?”
“Why are you not sending me home?” He asks instead.
“I do not believe sending you to Grimmauld Place is a smart plan of action.” McGonagall answers honestly. She 's always been honest with Sirius. That’s what he appreciates about her. Her refusal to beat around the bush. He wishes he had that gift.
“I want to be sent home.”
His professor nods and clicks her tongue, as if she expected his response. She takes a new quill and begins to write something new down. Sirius slouches further in his chair.
“I will not be sending you home.”
“Please,” he begs.
“No.”
“It is what I deserve.”
McGonagall looks up then, her eyes softening into something almost like pity. Sirius gags involuntarily.
“Sirius, if you think you deserve to be tortured for your actions, you are sorely mistaken. Your pain will not make up for the pain you have caused Remus. It will only add onto all of our consciousnesses.”
“I fucked up.”
“Yes.”
“Therefore I should be punished.”
“You have been.”
“More.”
“No.”
“You do not understand!” Sirius shouts. “I almost killed Remus. I hurt James and Peter. I…I almost killed Snape. Doesn’t that warrant whatever is waiting for me at home?”
“No.”
“Why not, Professor? Why are you refusing to let my consequences fall into place? What do you expect to happen if I stay here?”
Minerva sighs again. How has life failed this boy already?
“Will you tell me why you sent Snape to the Shack?”
“No.”
“Even if I promise to not tell Dumbledore?”
“I don’t trust you.”
And oh. If that sentence didn’t just slice McGonagall in half.
“That’s fine. You don’t have to trust me. But I am willing to earn your trust. We have lots of nights together coming up.”
Sirius stands, obviously deciding this conversation over. “I have to clear my stuff out of the dorm before Moony comes back.”
“Sirius,” McGonagall tries one more time. “I will never send you home as a consequence. That won’t benefit you.”
She wishes she could say the weight of your actions and the words of your friends will serve as punishment enough.
You can’t warn someone of their fate, no matter how much you try. The vitriol, the tears, the hurt waiting to stomp on all of those boys. She wishes she could protect them all from its feet. She can’t. Because life has to run its course. She can only do her best to soften the blow.
Sirius slams the door to her office. She sighs one more time, then finishes her note. She blows out the candle and leaves, headed towards the infirmary.
I am worried Sirius will become a danger to himself.
☽☽☽
Remus is, unfortunately, in the room when Sirius arrives.
“Moony,” he begins, unsure of where he will go.
You’re back.
Are you okay?
Do you hate me?
Do you regret me?
Can I make it up to you?
“Shut up, Sirius,” Remus responds.
“I’m sor–”
“I don’t care.”
“I am. I really am. And I’m punished a whole lot for it. Did you hear?”
“Are they kicking you out?”
“No?” Sirius answers. “I had a shit ton of detentions and no quidditch and…”
“That’s all? You sent Snape to his murder at my hands and they just slapped you on the wrist?”
“Minnie said that she would–”
Remus snorts harshly. “Great. Awesome. I’m so glad I have to look at you and remember what you almost let me do.”
“Would you rather me be sent home?”
“I would rather you weren’t here.”
Sirius swallows harshly. Yeah. Me too.
“Moo–”
“Shut the fuck up, Sirius.”
“Yeah. Yeah, okay.” Sirius feels the tears build up behind his eyes. “Let me just grab a few things and I’ll be out of your hair. I promise.”
“Like you’ve kept any of those before,” Remus mutters, pulling the curtains to his bed.
Sirius wonders what Remus isn’t saying. He expected more rage. More shouting. Calm, quiet Remus losing his shit on the boy who was falling in love with him. He didn’t expect a quick shut out. Now, Sirius can only beg for Remus to tell him what he did wrong.
Sirius keeps his head down as he leaves, a bag of clothes and his wand in his hands. He runs right into James.
“Sirius,” James starts, the name coming out wrong and jagged.
“Sorry. ‘M sorry,” Sirius whispers, and pushes past him.
“It might be best if you stay away for a few days,” James calls, his crutch holding up most of his weight.
“I will.”
James nods, desperation lining his mouth.
“Perfect.”
☽☽☽
Sirius didn’t take the map with him when he left. Why would he? The map is for the Marauders, and he blew them up. He doesn’t deserve their prized possession. Besides, who wants a mistake spying on them anyways?
Fortunately, he has become very well acquainted with Hogwarts and everything hidden in his walls. This is why he finds the painting of the Muggle crusades very quickly, on the fifth floor of the southernmost tower. He presses the stone next to the soldier charging west and watches as the painting swings open. Sirius rushes inside, as he only has five seconds before the painting closes again. Inside the hidden corridor is nothing but cold stone. He casts a silent Lumos and settles against the wall. He has no blanket, no pillow. Just the jumper he carried with him. If he freezes before morning, that would be too sweet a fate.
He waves his wand once to turn off the light. He hikes up the sleeve of his shirt. He should’ve been sent home. He should’ve been sentenced to Azkaban. He should’ve taken every oath that fell from his Remus’ lips and held them to his broken heart; save himself from what he’d done. He should’ve gone to Regulus himself instead of yelling at Snape. He should’ve he should’ve he should’ve.
He should’ve snuffed his star out before it burned out.
☽☽☽
April blows her winds gently, letting them glide over the Black Lake. Rains patter against the green grass. The Whomping Willow swings to the beat of student’s laughter. Sirius watches them all from the astronomy tower, his legs swinging from the window. He’s gotten as far away as he could’ve. Sometimes, he wishes he could go further. McGonagall said that’s not allowed.
“You don’t need to keep running, Sirius,” she said a week ago. “It’s a new month. The tides will begin to change.”
The full moon is tonight. Sirius won’t bother asking if he can go.
Someone who looks like Mary runs across the field, pulling a blonde across the field. Her hair is too long to be Marlene’s; Emma Vanity, maybe? Sirius doesn’t care. As long as Mary is happy.
What would’ve happened if he and Mary stayed together? Would he still ruin everything? To live a lie? To save a life? Would he have bemoaned his aching lungs and sweaty palms crafted by his Boy just to keep a secret safe?
Does it matter? A voice asks.
Sirius rolls his eyes and stubs his cigarette on the ledge. His sleeve slides up, exposing the bandages he keeps wrapped around his arm. He’s heard the rumours. Black’s gone and got the Mark. Black tried to take the Mark off. Black. Black. Black.
Did anyone think a Black could need an escape too?
Sirius turns around and gets off the ledge. It’s too important a day to stay up there. Besides, he needs to get new clothes out of his room before anyone sees him.
☽☽☽
“Here.”
Sirius looks up from his transfiguration desk two days later to James holding nothing out.
“What?”
“I don’t forgive you. Not yet. I need time. But…someone I know saw that you looked like you wanted to disappear. And I don’t know where you’ve been hiding, where you eat, where you sleep, if you sleep at all. I would feel better if I knew you had somewhere to hide.”
“I’m hiding in plain sight, James,” Sirius replies tiredly.
“You’ve never wanted to disappear before. Hide, yes, but never disappear. I can’t have you disappearing on me.”
“Wouldn’t it be better?”
“I’m still very pissed off with you. However, I would kill you if you disappeared on me.
Sirius blinks and reaches for James’ hand. The soft, silky fabric of the invisibility cloak prevents him from touching skin.
“Don’t you need this for the moons? Or pranks?”
“We’ve sort of…stopped pranks for a while. And we have other ways to hide from the moons.” James pushes the cloak into Sirius’ hands and then shakes his head. “Don’t be afraid to come into the dorms when we’re there. It’ll be tense but…we have to break the tension at some point.”
James won’t tell Sirius that he shouldn’t be giving him the cloak. That he gets up at 5:30 in the morning to fly his emotions out so that he doesn’t hurt anyone. That there’s a boy who knows everything, and has held James through more mental breakdowns than anyone could have in the span of a week. He won’t say that Remus is aware that Sirius is suicidal. He won’t tell Sirius anything. A schism split their souls in half. This is the cost of repercussion.
He walks away, leaving Sirius alone in the classroom. Sirius lays his head down on the desk. Thinking. His arm begins to ache. A tear falls from his eye. He takes a deep breath and decides he’ll make it right.
There is no other choice.
☽☽☽
McGonagall ran out of things for Sirius to do in detention after four days. Because of this, detentions have turned into sessions of silence. She’ll make them both tea–Jasmine, though Sirius prefers Oolong–and place her biscuit tin in the center of the desk. She’s hoping he’ll talk. He’s hoping she gets so bored of him, she’ll send him away.
“How have you been, Sirius?”
Sirius shrugs. He can’t say good. He’s been sleeping on stone, as a dog (it’s slightly more comfortable), he’s been skipping meals to avoid his friends, he’s…he’s…he’s.
“My grades are good.”
Minerva nods and takes a sip of her tea. “That is not what I asked.”
“I thought you’d like to know,” Sirius mutters ashamedly. “I can’t offer much more than that.”
“Have you talked to any of your friends recently?”
“James. Yesterday.”
“And what did he say?”
“He gave me something. Said he was worried I’m going to kill myself. Except, he didn’t really say that. He said he was worried about me ‘disappearing.’”
“It sounds like he still cares about you. That must count for something, right?”
“Or he can’t have my death on his conscience.”
Brutal. Rude. The truth.
“Where have you been sleeping, Sirius?” McGonagall cuts to the chase. “I asked Mr. Pettigrew and he said that you haven’t spent more than five minutes in your room since March 15.”
“I’m staying inside the castle, Professor, if that’s what you’re worried about.” Sirius looks at McGonagall, the purple bags under his eyes consuming his face. “I’m not going out anymore.”
Anymore. Because his spirit’s been snuffed out. Yes, it’s his fault. Can’t he forgive himself? McGonagall can see it so clearly. James is ready to accept him back. Mend what he’s broken. Only Sirius is holding himself back.
“I’m glad to hear you’re staying inside. It’s dangerous this time of year. The pixies tending the grass get feisty.”
Sirius snorts. McGonagall smirks. Sirius hasn’t smiled or laughed in weeks. “Don’t laugh at me, Sirius! They are. They start trying to rip your socks and they hide your shoes. They also like pulling tails.”
Sirius giggles. “Is this why you make Hagrid handle all of the outdoor detentions? Because you’re scared of pixies?”
“Do not mock me! Aren’t you scared of gnomes?”
“How do you know about that?”
McGonagall pretends to zip her lips shut and hands a biscuit to Sirius. He takes it, and holds it preciously in his hands. He lifts a finger and begins to trace the pattern.
“I’m waiting for the other shoe to drop,” he whispers. McGonagall isn’t sure she was supposed to have heard. “The guilt is eating me alive. It is. When the shoe drops, I’ll know it’s okay to move on.”
“What shoe, may I ask?”
Sirius taps his forehead, his sleeve sliding up. McGonagall has to stifle a gasp at his arm. Red and angry, scattered in tiny, precise lines. “The Black Shoe.”
“What if it doesn’t drop?”
Sirius smiles a sad smile, eyes the rose clock, and stands up. “It always does.”
☽☽☽
Mary finds him one day near the end of April, sitting on the border of the Forbidden Forest, picking dead grass and dropping it on his shoes. She looks at him, at the grass, and then his hair. With a tsk , she motions for him to move up, taking the spot behind him.
She doesn’t say anything at first, focused on pulling a hairbrush and some hair ties from her tote bag. She hums an ABBA song while running her fingers through Sirius’ knotty hair–not ratty or unkempt, just less of a priority. Sirius has to restrain himself from falling into her touch. He doesn’t deserve her kindness. Why is she here? Maybe he should’ve brought the cloak with him today.
“Do you want one or two?” Mary interrupts herself.
“Pardon?”
“One or two braids?
“Oh.” Sirius pauses his grass pulling. “Two, I guess.”
“Guess?”
Sirius rolls his eyes. “Mary.”
“Sirius, love,” Mary says. Pity coats her voice, which makes Sirius shudder. Mary has never pitied him.
Sirius shrugs, not bothering with an answer.
“I miss you,” she tries again after five minutes, her brush coasting through his hair. “I’m sorry I haven’t come looking for you yet.”
“‘S okay. I wouldn’t have looked for me, either.”
Mary makes a noise of distress, placing the brush in Sirius’ lap and opting for a comb instead.
“Do you want to tell me what happened?” She attempts to coax.
“I did something really bad. Everyone’s mad at me.”
Mary pushes half of Sirius’ hair over his shoulder. “I’m not mad at you.”
“You should be.”
“Hmm,” Mary pretends to think. “No, I’m not mad at you. You made a mistake. You obviously feel remorse, so now you just have to figure out how to apologize.”
“He won’t believe me.”
“Then figure out how to get him to believe you. You’re very smart, Sirius. You can fix this problem too.”
The conversation lapses. Birds chitter around them while Mary finishes his braids. She pulls Sirius back until he’s resting on her chest. She presses a kiss to his head and grabs one of his hands.
“You are so good, Sirius. You’ll be okay.”
☽☽☽
In May, Padfoot trots out from behind the Crusades painting to see a very grumpy Regulus Black waiting for him.
“You dumbass. Change back.”
Sirius does as he’s told, as he was trained. Regulus shakes his head and pulls his arm.
“Ow. What the fuck, Reggie!”
“So fucking stupid. Wallowing in self-goddamn pity. Can’t handle this bullshit anymore.”
Regulus drags him around corridors and through halls. Sirius is lucky that it’s dark and so few students are out. Gossip regarding the Black Brothers travels fast. He doesn’t need the rumours on top of his regret.
Regulus pulls him into an alcove under the Astronomy tower. He pushes him down harshly and shoves up Sirius’ sleeve. He’s wrapped it again, to keep the thoughts away.
“You son of a bitch,” Regulus breathes. “What the hell did you do?”
“Can’t tell you.”
“No, not that, ” He seethes. “I know you almost killed Snape. Don’t need the details. Just know you did. I mean this. Your arm.”
“How could you tell?”
“Someone told me you were cradling your arm like a wounded dog.”
Sirius shakes his head. Who has been observing him that closely? Who would’ve gotten his little brother involved in his woes?
Regulus unwraps Sirius’ arm. “I’m actually quite glad Maman and Father didn’t want us home for the spring holidays this year. I think you would’ve died.”
“I wish I did,” Sirius uncontrollably says.
Regulus pauses. Meets Sirius’ gaze. His eyes are a shade darker than Sirius’ paling grey. Remus used to say Sirius’ eyes were a less-threatening version of the moon. Now he probably says they’re the shade of a clean dagger.
“Siri,” he pleads. “You’re not allowed to die. You’re going to be the one that gets out alive.”
Sirius laughs a brisk laugh. It’s crude, it’s sharp, it’s filled with months of remorse and frustration. “If I’m dead, I can’t act like Maman.”
“You’re not her.”
“I’m as good as.”
Regulus sniffs and pours four drops of Dittany on Sirius’ arm. “You are not good as, you little shit, you’re better. You understand what you do wrong, and you try to be better. Except for now. Now, you just seem to be licking your wounds and letting everyone around you suffer.”
“For the better.”
Regulus rolls his eyes. “It is not for the better! You are the Better! You are going to apologize to Lupin and Snape and everyone else you hurt and learn from this. You are going to get out and fall back in love with Lupin and move on. Because that is what you do. You don’t stay stuck in your ways. You get better.”
“And if I don’t?”
“At least you tried.” Regulus wraps the ointment up and places it back in his knapsack. “Come on.”
“Where?”
“I have to show you something.”
☽☽☽
“Snape threatened to test his new spell on Regulus,” Sirius blurts one day near the end of May. “That’s why I sent him to the Shack.”
He’s been opening up more. An admittance here, a murmur there. He’s stopped hurting himself too. No more scratches on his arm. McGonagall takes each confession with a prayer. That this boy finds happiness. Healing. He’s getting better. He must be. Or, at least, the maggot of guilt isn’t consuming him. There’s no other explanation.
McGonagall hums. “And why did you not let Mr. Black handle that on his own?”
“He’s a coward. Won’t confront anyone. Refuses to stand up for himself. It pisses me off so much because he is so strong . And he refuses to make himself a threat. He could do so much if he just decided to be brave.
I think he’s struggling too. He’s more bones than boy, and the rest of the Slytherins pick on him for that. They won’t do it to his face, because he’s a Black and all of that, but they murmur in the halls. I think they’re trying to get a rise out of me. They know my weakness. Hate the Blacks, but I love my brother. How horrible is that?”
“It’s not stupid, Sirius. It’s called being human.”
“The Blacks aren’t human.”
“Then, may you be the first.” McGonagall hands him a journal. “With OWLs coming up, I don’t think it’s wise to continue our detentions. Besides, I think you’ve learned your lesson. Don’t you agree?”
Sirius takes the journal. “Regulus found me a bedroom. In the castle. I’m not sleeping in a corridor anymore.”
McGonagall frowns, then writes something down. “Where? Not the Headboy dorm, I hope.”
“It’s a secret room. I can't tell you where. He’d disown me.”
True, Regulus brought him up to the seventh floor. Told him to imagine a bedroom and then walk in front of a doorway three times. I come here when I need to escape, he had said but I think you need it more right now .
McGonagall sighs, though it’s less like a sigh of defeat and more of a sigh of whatever these days. Pick your battles, they say.
“I’m glad you’re in a bed now, Sirius.”
“I am too. Hopefully next year I can try the dorm again.”
A silence rings. McGonagall shakes her head and proceeds forward. “As I was going to say, I think that in lieu of our meetings, you should write your thoughts and feelings in that journal. It will help you regulate yourself, and it will prevent you from reverting to negative habits. You have come so far, Sirius. I would hate that to be all for naught.”
Sirius nods. He needs to try. He wants to try. He’s going to be better.
“I will do my best, Professor.”
☽☽☽
OWLs come and go, Mary brings Sirius into their circle of friends again, and the beginnings of summer seep into the air.
“It’s time you reinstate yourself in Gryffindor,” Mary had said while gripping his hand. “I’m sorry I didn’t pay enough attention to you while you were struggling. I’m sorry we let you get away from us. I’m sorry you thought leaving was the solution.”
“It was for the best,” Sirius responded. And that was that.
Today, Sirius is packing up his dorm. Remus is cleaning his nightstand. James and Peter are knicking food from the kitchens. It’s the longest he’s spent in the dorms–or with Remus–in months. He’s waiting for something to blow up.
As he shuts his trunk, he notices James’ cloak glittering on his bed. Clicking his tongue, he picks it up and brings it back to his best friend’s bed.
“Why do you have James’ cloak?” Remus asks. No malice, no bitterness. Just plain curiosity. Sirius almost collapses with the weight.
“Someone told him I looked like I was going to disappear. So, he gave me a way to hide without disappearing,” Sirius says. “I never used it to spy on you, I promise.”
“I know you wouldn’t.”
Neither boy continues to pack. They choke on the words begging to be heard, avoiding eyes and silvery scars. Remus has four more since March. Sirius knows the antler scars are there somewhere as well. He won’t ask to see them.
“I…Remus…I am so so sorry. And I know my apologies mean jack shit and I don’t want you to forgive me, but I want you to know I never meant to harm you. Or Snape. I was mad and…I took it out the only way I know how. That’s not an excuse, I know it sounds like one, but…I’m learning how to make it right.”
Remus hums noncommittally and fidgets with his cane. Sirius shifts from one foot to the other. Please say something. Please please please.
“I’m not ready to forgive you. I will never forget what you did,” Remus finally says. “You cannot ask me to forgive you when the wounds are still fresh. However, I understand where you are coming from. I understand that you responded to hurt with hurt and you did it well. Just…give me time, Sirius. That’s all I ask. I want time.”
“You have time,” Sirius responds instantly. You have me.
☽☽☽
He finds Snape on the Hogwarts Express.
“What do you want?” Snape sneers. His long, normally greasy hair is pulled back into a low ponytail. Sirius notes that the hairstyle accentuates his pale features pleasantly. Severus looks almost…handsome. Less sewer rat, more up-and-coming wizard.
Sirius stares into his beady eyes, feigning confidence he has not had in a very long time. Steeled himself as the Black heir he is meant to be “I wanted to apologize. For what occurred in March.”
“And why should I forgive you for that?” Snape asks, his right arm reaching into his sleeve, presumably to grab his wand.
Sirius shakes his head. “You don’t have to forgive me. I know fully that what I did was obscene and cruel. I just wanted to let you know that I am sorry.”
Snape leers, phantom pain crawling along the features of his body. “Maybe you genuinely feel remorse. But I will not absolve you from your sins. You do not deserve that, Sirius Black.”
“I know. I just wanted to let you know anyway.” Sirius bows his head, staring at his dirty Doc Martens.
A scoff and a push against his shoulder. Sirius looks up to find Snape gone. He shrugs and continues towards his friend’s cabin.
☽☽☽
Number 12 Grimmuald place is a grim, old place. This is well known, even though no one acknowledges this fact. It’s as black as the souls of the family that own the home; dreary and heartbroken, never living up to its full potential.
Sirius never lived up to his full potential either. That’s what his mother said. A disgrace of a son. A disgrace of a house.
His blood turns the crystal chandelier to rubies. His screams replace the chime of the grandfather clock. Upstairs, his brother’s quiet tears replace the laughs they used to share. They will never laugh again. For Sirius is about to die, and Regulus will be at fault.
You can’t keep a lion alive that doesn’t want to hunt.
The details of how they got here are unimportant. A business dinner gone awry, a meeting with the Dark Lord in which Regulus was supposed to torture a kitten. One thing led to another and…well.
The details don’t matter because God doesn’t care about details when he judges your life. He looks at the big ideas. Sirius hasn’t been God-fearing for many years. He hopes his God will allow him to enter Heaven anyway.
Bellatrix releases her crucio. She steps her heel onto Sirius’ leg, slicing the bone in two. He howls in pain. His mother laughs.
“Just as he deserved, saving Regulus like that.”
He fades out of consciousness, his last thought being the other shoe dropped.
☽☽☽
“–And so Dad said he’d try to offer her an internship, since she has the potential for a career in Potions. But she said ‘no thanks, Mr. P. Tuney’s getting married and I want to be there for her.’ Which, Pads, you will not believe came out of Lily’s mouth. Except, I’m trying to be a better friend so I can’t tell her that’s ridiculous. I just have to hope she knows–”
Sirius awakes to a white ceiling and the softest cotton under his back. His leg is wrapped and elevated, and he feels a chill on his chest. He attempts to sit up, a grunt escaping his lips.
“Oh, hey, no, don't sit up. Sirius, no, just. MUM, HE’S AWAKE.” James presses a palm to Sirius’ bare chest and gently pushes him back down. “Don’t, no, stop. You’ll hurt yourself. There are stitches in your chest. Mum’ll kill me if you tear those.”
“Jamie?” Sirius slurs.
“Yeah. Hi, I’m here. You’re out of there.”
“‘M not dead?”
“I hope not. Then I’d be dead too. Besides, Reg would kill you if you beat him to death’s arms.”
“Reg?”
“Later,” James presses his glasses up his nose. “You’re gonna be okay.”
Euphemia Potter hurries into the room, potions and bandages falling from her grasp. She smiles at Sirius, as if that’s what she was born to do.
“Hello, darling,” she whispers. “I’m so glad you decided to wake up.
“Everyone keeps saying that,” Sirius mutters. “Wouldn’t it be better if–”
“No.” Both Potters answer.
Euphemia checks his dressings, and then she hands James a few more pain potions. “He needs these in ten minutes. I have to start dinner.” she presses a kiss to James’ forehead. “I love you.” She grips Sirius’ hand. “I don’t know how you feel about affection, so we’ll go at your pace, okay?”
Sirius nods, unable to speak. James beams.
When his mom leaves, James faces Sirius with a stern glare. “You were out for four days. What were you thinking, hurting yourself like that?”
“I was trying to be better.”
“By getting yourself killed?”
“By making up for what I’ve done!”
“Regulus would’ve resented you if you died to save him.”
“And what do you know about Regulus?” Sirius’ tone is threatening. His teeth bared. James swallows.
“I only know what you told me,” he lies. “But I remember Snape.”
“Everyone does.”
“In order to heal, you have to take care of yourself too. I know you haven’t been doing that.”
“I wanted to take up less space.”
“I didn’t want you to disappear on me,” James argues. “I needed some space, but that doesn’t mean I don’t want you around me at all.”
“So…”
“No one wanted you to sleep in a corridor for three months, Sirius.”
Sirius gulps. “I thought…isn’t that…”
“Needing a week or two to breathe is not the same as wishing you dead.”
“I ruined everything.”
“And we’ll work together to fix it. It is not all on you. Yes, you hurt us the most, but we’re all here to help you pick up the pieces.”
“Jamie,” Sirius whimpers. “I just wanted to make everything right. I made it all worse."
He falls onto James’ shoulder, who catches him easily. The sobs come in like a tsunami, wracking a damaged body. James holds him steady, whispering reassurances into his ear. His mom reenters at some point, to which James mouths floo Remus.
☽☽☽
Remus has come to stay for a weekend. A decision not made lightly, as James tells Sirius. He doesn’t want to fight. He doesn’t want to talk about it at all, really. Which, that’s fine with Sirius. He’s not asking for a discussion. He just wants Remus to know he’s sorry.
James says that he knows; if gripping Sirius tightly wasn’t enough to prove that Remus understands, then…well that’s the thing. Where do they go from here?
Mrs. Potter has been sending the boys outside into the nice weather. James flies around on his broom, Remus reads, and Sirius picks the dandelions in the grass. His leg still twinges from time to time, making any extraneous activity uncomfortable. Yet, something about plucking weeds from the ground soothes all of his pains. There’s probably an underlying message about feeling lost or healing somewhere in the yellow petals. He won’t bother reading into it.
Speaking of reading…
“Whatcha reading?” Sirius asks, placing a dandelion in the crevice of Remus’ book.
Remus raises an eyebrow, his eyes never leaving the page.
“Please?”
A sigh. Sirius grins, knowing he won.
“ Jane Eyre.”
“How’s it?” Sirius wonders. He pulls another dandelion from the grass.
“I really love the story. I love all of it, actually. The characters are well-rounded, the story is well paced, and the setting is divine.” Remus smiles gently. He closes the book; flower petal peeking out from the top of the book.
“Would I like it?”
Remus shakes his head. “No. It would remind you too much of home.”
Home. Number 12. His mother. His brother. Closets. Locks. Corridors.
“Home wouldn’t try to kill me,” Sirius mutters, picking apart the top of the dandelion.
Remus inhales. “No. I suppose it wouldn’t.”
Sirius lays down in the grass, stretching his legs out. Remus opens Jane Eyre. Closes Jane Eyre. Open. Close.
“Will you stop that?” Sirius snaps.
“Well it’s awkward otherwise!” Remus argues.
“Then let’s not be awkward!” Sirius retaliates.
“Fine.”
“Fine.”
Three minutes pass. James flies around in circles. Sirius stares at the sky. Remus stares at Sirius.
“I’m so–”
“Remus, I–”
They begin at the same time. Remus coughs and motions for Sirius to go first.
“I just wanted to apologize. Again. I keep apologizing and I’m not sure if you even care but I care and I would feel more comfortable if you knew how sorry I was. There’s no excuse for how I acted and the pain I caused you was far more than anything I’ve ever experienced and I just…I’m forever sorry and I will be sorry until I drop dead.”
“Anything else?” Remus asks, tone purposefully neutral. Sirius wants to scrub the skin off his face. Oh how he despises when Remus uses his impartial tone.
“Nothing that won’t sound like a Sirius Black pity party.”
“Okay,” Remus says. “Well, I was going to apologize too.”
“For what?”
“For not listening to you. For ignoring you and letting you flounder. Cause that’s what you did, didn’t you? You let yourself spiral and I prevented anyone from helping you up.” He scoffs and pulls his cigarette box out of his jeans. “God I sound like a fucking idiot.
You know, I always fucking hated your parents. Your cousins, your brother even, for destroying your soul every time you left Hogwarts. But, I did the same thing this year, didn’t I? I destroyed you.
Though, I guess it’s only fair I hurt you because you ripped me apart with your words. I took each bite with a smile because I loved you. And you ruined me anyway. An eye for an eye, don’t you say?”
“The difference lies in me, Remus. I deserved to be hurt. You didn’t.”
“No. No, no, no. No one deserves to be hurt. Don’t you understand? You hurt me, but I shouldn’t have hurt you in return. That’s not right. That’s…exactly what I’ve tried to avoid all of these years.”
“What’s done is done,” Sirius whispers. “But I forgive you anyway.”
“You forgive me?”
Sirius grins, something in his heart slotting back into place. “I will always forgive you.”
Remus hums. He grabs a dandelion from Sirius’ stomach and places it in the boy’s hair. “I’m truly sorry.”
Sirius grabs Remus’ hand and runs his fingers over Remus’ tanned knuckles. “I know.”
“Don’t ever do anything like that again.”
“I won’t.”
Remus breathes and redirects Sirius’ head into his lap. “Then, I’m sure we can move on. Can’t we?”
Sirius closes his eyes and hums gently. “Moving on. Sounds nice.”
☽☽☽
Forgiveness comes in waves. Maybe one day, Sirius will understand why.