Sirius told the other boys to go onto dinner without him. He said that he had to stay back and finish up his potions essay for Slughorn. Sirius didn't lie though. Not completely, anyway. He did have to finish his essay, he just wasn't planning on doing it quite then. He didn't imagine that he was going to go down to dinner, tonight. He had other things planned for the night. More personal, and private things. He couldn't do it with the three boys he shared a dormitory with, in the room.
After James, Remus, and Peter left, Sirius went up into the dormitory. He opened his trunk, and dug into the bottom of it, pulling out a knife. It wasn't very big, just a small pocket knife. He went and sat the knife down on his pillow, and walked into the adjourning bathroom to get some paper towels. He had done this enough, that it was almost a ritual. He walked back, and neatly folded the towels, laying them on the pillow next to his knife. He closed all but one side of his poster bed, and crawled in, before closing the last side. He sat criss-cross in the middle of the bed, and put the towels on his leg. He rolled up his robe sleeve, rubbing his finger across the scars on his arm. Some of them were new, but some of them were old. Years old, in fact. He had small ones, and big ones. The ones most noticeable were the ones where he had cut the deepest. He still had some red marks, from the last time he had done this. He had been doing it more and more frequently now. His knife was becoming as good of a friend as any of his real ones.
He had just finished fighting with his parents, and was upstairs in his bedroom. He couldn't wait until break was over and he could go back to Hogwarts. He couldn't wait until he was 17 and could leave his parents' house either. Of course, he still had four more years to wait. He had charmed his radio to pick up muggle stations as well as wizarding ones, and he fiddled with it until he found one that was playing rock music. He turned it up as loud as he could go, and grabbed his pocket knife off of his dresser, and started throwing it up in the air, and catching it again. When the knife sprung open, he started twirling between his fingers. He wasn't quite stupid enough to throw an open knife. His parents were telling him to turn off that "muggle crap" and going on about blood purity and honor again, and how they would disown him. He was thankful for the charms he had on his door, making it so that his parents couldn't get in.
The knife slipped, cutting his arm. Sirius looked down at his arm, as beads of red started dripping onto his floor. He was fascinated by this. The blood was running down his arm as if it had a mind of its own, making intricate patterns. He slowly bent down and picked up the knife, and pressed it against his skin. Very carefully, so not to overlap the other cut, he slid the knife across his arm, still pressing it down. He didn't make a very big cut. It stung, but not in the way you would think. He could almost feel his anger coming out with the blood. He knew that this wasn't normal, and he shouldn't enjoy what he was doing. He slowly cut across his wrist again.
Sirius laid his arm across the towels, and picked up the knife, opening it. He pressed the cold silver against his skin. He felt his breath catch, as he cut into his skin. He cut for his anger towards his parents. He cut for not being enough for his parents. He cut for being a poof. He cut for being weak and relying on a knife to make him feel better. He cut for being in love with one of his best friends. He cut for every wrong thing he's done in his life, for every time he failed someone who he cared about. He cut so he didn't break down. He cut for being so weak that he cried. He cut so he could feel happiness.
Sirius knew that his breath was coming out raspy, and he tried to ignore the tears on falling down his face. He made mark after mark on his skin. They were a permanent reminder of all the times he failed or screwed up. They were a reminder of how he was never going to be good enough for anyone. They were there so that he would never forget his mistakes.
Sirius heard the door open, and he paused, holding the knife above his wrist. He tried to make his breathing sound normal.
Remus voice rang out, "Sirius?"
"Hm?" Sirius asked, not trusting his voice to talk.
"You all right?" Sirius heard footsteps as Remus walked towards his bed.
Sirius took a deep breath before speaking. "Yeah, I'm fine. J-just working on that essay, y'know?" He tried to sound non-chalant, but even he could tell his voice sounded rough. He was afraid to move, and the knife was still pressing into his skin. There was blood dripping down onto the paper towels, and bleeding through onto his leg. He had blood on the sleeve of his robe too.
He heard Remus's footsteps stop, not quite at his bed, and he heard a trunk opening. "James, Peter, and I are all going down to the library to study. You should come." He said, closing the trunk. "I just had to run up and get a book. James and Peter say they don't need any books, so I'm unsure about how they are going to study." Remus was walking towards Sirius's bed again.
Sirius heard Remus stop right by his bed. "Uhm, actually I think I'll stay here and finish. Less noise, you know?" He said, trying to keep his voice from quivering, although he knew he failed.
Remus heard Sirius voice waiver, and put his hand on one of the curtains, ready to pull it back. "Padfoot, you sure you're okay?" Concern filled his voice.
Sirius still afraid to move mumbled something. When Remus asked him to repeat what he just said he said "Y-Yeah. I'm fine. W-why wouldn't I be?" He asked, tripping over some of his words. His breath caught as Remus began to pull back the curtain. He looked down at his arm, afraid to look up. He could hear Remus gasp, and he tried to think of an excuse. He still hadn't moved, and he had started pressing the knife deeper into his skin, so that it was cutting his skin without him moving it.
Remus stared at the scene in front of him, unsure what to say or do. Here was one of his best friends, tears running down his face, pressing a knife to a bloody and scarred arm. "S-Sirius?" He asked, trying to get the boy to look at him. Sirius was always happy, or Remus thought he was at least. He had this care-free attitude about him. That's what Remus had always loved about Sirius. Sirius never cared about how he looked, which made him look handsome. He didn't really care what others thought about him. He did what he wanted, even if that included breaking the rules. Remus loved the boy, and everything about him. Even the things that irked others. How had he not noticed how upset Sirius really was? He wondered if there had been any signs, signs that he just ignored-
They were in the Shrieking Shack, and James, Sirius, and Peter were getting ready to change into their animal forms. It was almost time for Remus to turn into a werewolf, and they couldn't be caught as humans around him. Sirius robe arm had risen up, and Remus thought he had saw an angry looking red cut on Sirius's arm. He had just been about to ask about it, when Sirius noticed him looking and quickly pulled the sleeve back down, before changing.
It was warm spring, and a Saturday. They boys had all taken off their robes, and had a make-shift Quidditch match going on. Everyone except Sirius had been in a short-sleeved shirt. Sirius had been wearing a long-sleeved one. Remus had thought it was odd at the time, but didn't pay much to it. The weather had been changing from cool to warm lately, and maybe Sirius had just wanted to make sure he didn't freeze his arms off.
They were in potions, and Remus noticed a make-shift gauze pad, made from a cut up sock, on Sirius's arm. He found it strange that Sirius used muggle first-aid instead of having Promfery heal his arm. When he had asked Sirius said that it wasn't anything serious, and he hadn't wanted to bother Promfery. "Besides, Promfery always over-reacts" He had told Remus, not meeting Remus's gaze.
As Remus remembered these events, and others like them. He had always written them off as Sirius being Sirius. Now he realized they were much more than that. He had failed his duties as a good friend.
"Sirius." Remus whispered. When the boy didn't look up, he spoke a bit louder. "Sirius. Padfoot. Look at me." He told him. Very slowly Sirius met Remus's gaze. Sirius eyes were filled with tears, and he had tear stains down his cheek. "Give me the knife, Sirius. Please?" He asked, holding out his hand. When Sirius didn't move, he went and very carefully made Sirius release the knife. Remus closed the blood-stained knife, and put it down on his bed. He went and sat down at the foot of Sirius's bed, and looked at him. "Why? Sirius, why? Why didn't you come to me? Or James? Or Peter? We would've listened any time. Why would you do something like this to yourself? How long has it been going on?" Remus wasn't talking very loudly.
Sirius wouldn't meet Remus gaze again, and it took him awhile to finally speak. "I-I couldn't." His voice quivered. "I didn't want to seem weak. You guys w-wouldn't understand." He whispered. His voice broke on understand, and he let out a muffled sob. He was still looking down at the bed. "I-It's been going on for three years." He said, as quietly as he could.
Remus stared at his friend. He hated to see Sirius like this. He looked so fragile, and broken. Remus wanted to pull Sirius against him and tell him that everything would be okay. Only, he couldn't. He knew Sirius was gay, and he knew he liked someone. He was also sure that Sirius didn't like him. "Sirius, what drove you to this? Was it us?" Remus asked, almost afraid to hear the answer. All Sirius did was shake his head. "Then what, Padfoot?"
At the use of Sirius's nickname, another sob broke out. "I-It was an accident. At first. M-my parents and I had another fight. But. I knew-" Sirius took a deep breath, "I knew I would never be good enough for them. I think I had always known, but it never really dawned on me, until that day." Sirius was talking very quietly. "I was their gay, Gryffindor son. I got into trouble at school. One of my friends was a werewolf." Here he snuck at glance at Remus, who sat there, concern, filling his eyes. Sirius still had tears rolling down his face, "I was-" he stopped, and took a deep breath. "I was in love with the werewolf." He said this so quietly that Remus almost didn't hear him. He wanted to say something, but stopped himself. Sirius need to get this out. "I-I still am." Sirius whispered, moving back against his headboard, and bringing his knees up to his chest. He was picking at one of the cuts on his arm, without realizing it, and making it bigger. "You guys expected me to be this jokester. I couldn't let you guys down too." At this, he started sobbing so hard he couldn't talk anymore. He put his head down on his knees, and tried to muffle the sobs. He was still picking at the cut, until Remus grabbed his hand.
"You shouldn't be picking at that." He said softly. Remus didn't let go of Sirius's hand after that though. Instead he interlocked his fingers with Sirius's, and gave his hand a squeeze. Sirius still had blood dripping down his arm. They stayed like that for a second, Remus looking at Sirius. Remus wanted to cry, with how upset Sirius looked. He didn't look at all like Sirius. Sirius was strong and cocky. He wasn't fragile. He wasn't broken. The Sirius he knew never cried. He showed-off. His Sirius wasn't like this. Or so Remus had thought. He was shocked at how wrong he really had been. "Padfoot" He said.
Sirius shook his head. "Don't call me that. I'm not Padfoot. I'm not worthy of being Padfoot either." He said softly, his voice full of pain.
Remus just squeezed Sirius's hand again. "Sirius, you are Padfoot. Now, will you look at me?" He asked. Sirius looked up. "I don't know the full story behind this. I know your parents played a role. But, Sirius, they are not worth this pain. If they don't like you for you, then you don't need them in your life. You don't need to impress them. You are better then what they deserve as a son." He said, not breaking eye contact with Sirius once. "You are loved, Sirius. Your friends love you. We want you to be happy. You deserve to be happy. You don't need to hide your pain, though. You should have told one of us you were this upset. We would've helped. Sirius, we love you. I love you." He whispered the last three words, but refused to break eye contact. "Sirius. Padfoot. I love you. I love your messy hair. I love how you can goof off. I love how you do what you want. I always have loved you." He said. Sirius's eyes welled up once again. "You are amazing Padfoot. So fuck what your parents think. They don't know you."
Sirius took a deep breath, tried to say something, and took another deep breath. "H-h-how can you love this?" He asked.
Remus smiled. It wasn't very big, but it was there. "I love your eyes. I love your hair. I love your nose. Your half smile. Your cocky attitude. How you look in Quidditch robes. How when you told us you were gay you made a big joke about it, whereas I just made myself look like a fool."
Sirius shook his head. "B-but. You can't possibly love these?" He whispered, pointing to his scars and cuts.
Remus shook his head. "See, my favorite thing about you use to be your irresponsibility. But, that changed tonight." He grabbed Sirius chin. "Do you know what it is now?" Sirius shook his head, holding his breath. Remus's heart was beating fast, but he tried to ignore it. "What I love most about you, Sirius Black, also known as Padfoot, is these. I love your scars. I even love your fresh cuts, so long as you never hurt yourself like this again." He leaned over, and kissed Sirius softly on the lips. He then let go of Sirius's hand, and took his bleeding arm. He lowered his head, and slowly kissed where most of the scars were. He then kissed each new cut, as if trying to make them all better.
AN: I would like to say, that by writing this fic, I am not making fun of self-harm in any way shape or form. Because you guys don't know who I am, I'm telling you this. But I have been there. It's not a fun place to be. I am not promoting self-harm. It was just an idea I had for the fic, and I wanted to write it. Self-harm is not something to be made fun of. Oh, and I don't own these characters. JK does. Reviews are welcome. Or not.