A/N: This is for the "Hospitalisation Horro" challenge over at HPFC. Go check it out (:
I am, quite officially, the worst friend in the world.
No one else will say so, but I'm certain they're thinking it. I'm thinking it, anyway, and that's more than enough.
"Damn," I mutter under my breath. James and Peter look up.
"Stop blaming yourself," James says in a bored voice. We have been through this about thirty times since getting to the hospital wing. "He'll be fine, and anyway, it wasn't your fault."
"It was my fault," I answer quickly. "I should never have let you do this."
"We chose to do it," he points out in reply.
"Then I should never have told you."
"We figured it out for ourselves and would have been able to do so with or without your help."
"Then I should…" I sigh because I can't think of a decent retort. James has won the argument again and he knows it, so I shut up and stare miserably at Sirius.
More seriously this time, James leans forward and puts his hand on my shoulder. "Moony, this isn't your fault."
I want to answer "I know," but I can't find the words. I continue to watch Sirius for any signs of movement. His face, which was handsome, is now covered in scratches, which are covered in some sort of sticky glue that Madam Pomfrey put there to heal them. His forearm features a long gash, and although his blanket covers them, I know there are more on his legs and back. I know because I—or some version of myself—put them there. I sigh heavily and let me elbows sink farther into my knees, until it is actually painful. I still don't move them.
"D'you think Madam Pomfrey'll know how he got those?" asks Peter suddenly, and I am very tempted to turn and glare at him for voicing my own fears. I don't.
"She doesn't ask many questions," answers James, "and trust me, I would know."
I have to smile at this. James was one of the most accident-prone students in the entire school.
Silence rings in the air for a long while, and I wonder what will happen to me. I have let Dumbledore down. He should have known better, he should never have let me into Hogwarts. I am looking at the result of my kind mixing with the rest of society, and it scares me more than any misadventure James and Sirius have ever gotten me into.
"If you're thinking you'll get kicked out for this, you won't," says James quietly. His instinct scares me; I sometimes forget how just how far I have let him in. "No one was seriously hurt."
"I am Siriusly hurt," says a strained voice, and both James and I jump. I am torn between wanting to laugh at Sirius' ridiculous humor and wanting to wring my hands and beg for mercy.
"Hey," says James. "Nice scars on your face there." I shudder, but I don't think either of them notices.
"I'm still sexier than you," answers Sirius, and they both laugh. "Besides, they'll heal."
Despite the many forms of apology that have been marching around in my head the last few hours, I can't seem to find the right words to say right now. James seems to understand, as he usually does, and he clears his throat loudly.
"Well, I'm glad you're alright, mate," he says, standing. "I've got that Charms essay to do yet. Peter, you?"
"I completely forgot!" he says, wringing his hands nervously and standing quickly.
"Coming, Moony?" asks James.
"I finished it last week," I answer quickly.
"Right, then. Good night!" he calls, and he leads the way out of the hospital wing. Suddenly it is Sirius and I very much alone.
I look at him for a long moment, and then it all spills out. "Sirius, I am so sorry, I should never have let you do this, I should have tried harder to stop you, I should never have told you in the first place—"
"Remus, stop," he says. "You're going to give me a headache."
"Sorry," I mutter guiltily.
"Don't use that word. You have nothing to be sorry for."
"I have a lot of things to be sorry for," I retort, "not the least of which are the gashes all over you."
"Please stop worrying about it. I'm fine."
"Until this happens again. And again. I can't—" I break off, because I'm not sure what I was going to say. Words and phrases are rapidly inventing themselves in my head, but I can't find the right ones, the ones that express how I feel, my worry, my concern, my need to keep him safe.
"Moony," sighs Sirius, bringing me back. "You can't protect me from you."
I close my eyes tightly. "I wish I could."
It is quiet for a while, because apparently neither of us knows what to say. My eyes still shut tight, I try to imagine my life without him. Or his life without me. Or our lives without each other. I can't. I can't even remember my life before Hogwarts, before James and Peter, before Sirius.
Suddenly, his hand finds mine, and I jump and open my eyes.
"You can't make me stop being your friend. What would we do without you? You're the only one of us who cares for schoolwork or rules. We'd be kicked out within a week without you."
I bite my lip.
"Besides," he says, and he looks down at our hands as he says this, "I don't think I could live without you."
I sigh. "I couldn't live without you, either."
He must think that is an admission of defeat, so he falls silent again. And maybe it is an admission of defeat. I can breathe normally again, knowing that, for once in my life, I have been completely honest.
"Did you really finish the Charms essay, or were you just saying that?" asks Sirius suddenly.
"It's nearly done," I say evasively.
"I'm a bad influence on you," he says in a mock-disapproving tone. "And it's due tomorrow, too."
"Is yours done?" I ask suspiciously.
He laughs out loud at this. "Are you joking?"
At that moment, James and Peter return, carrying books and parchment in their arms. "See here, Moony, we made a good start—"
"Why don't we work on it together?" I suggest.
"Brilliant, mate," says James, and as we sit down to work, Sirius makes a poor joke about homework in his condition and life, for the moment, has returned to normal.
fin.
A/N: I really like the way this turned out, actually. Please leave a little note if you've read this, let me know you're out there (: