A/N: This is a one-off. The characters are not mine.
The Wolf and the Lion
"You." Remus was lost for words. He had raised himself onto his elbows, but it seemed as though the only thing that kept him from falling back onto the white hospital sheets was his anger. Sirius had never seen him this livid: his face, already pale from the Change the previous night, could have rivalled those sheets for their whiteness. "I thought you were my friend, you selfish prat!"
"I was." Sirius began, faltered, and tried again. "I was just trying to keep you company!" That came out wrong. He thought about finite-ing Remus' silencing spell, bringing Madame Pomfrey in, making her calm him.
"You can't bloody keep me company, Sirius Black! I'm a werewolf! Are you so stupid that you think you can just. waltz up to me and we can figure out our transfiguration homework together?" Remus' knuckles were white now.
"No! I'm better at trans--I didn't think that at all!" Sirius drew himself to his full height, his expression supercilious. A danger sign: the Blacks were an ancient family, a pure family, and a dark family. Sirius had taken this very same stance, this exact expression, almost constantly outside of the Griffindor common room for months after the Sorting Hat had failed to put the latest Black in Slytherin. Sirius had more than a few cousins here-- all Slytherins, of course--and had been forced to defend himself using all the dirty tricks his pureblood upbringing had instilled in him. He still used them sometimes; Sirius Black had a nasty temper.
Remus didn't care: he was too absorbed in his own anger, pain and horror. He barely registered Sirius shouting back.
"I am your bloody friend, you daft tosser, and if I want to try and keep you company, then I bloody shall! And you didn't bloody hurt me, so I don't see what you're bloody on about!"
Remus crumpled, it was the only word for it. His face fell, he withdrew into himself, and his body fell back to lie on the sheets. His head lay half on, half off the pillow. The only sign he was still alive was his eyes: they stared at Sirius, half-heartedly blinking back tears. The boys stared at each other for a long moment, then Remus reached out a pale, shaking hand, to hold Sirius' own hand.
"But you did get hurt. Not by me this time," Sirius made to interrupt, but Remus silenced him with a look. "Not this time, no, but you were hurt nonetheless."
"Remi--," Sirius started, his voice soft. "It's a bloody splinter."
"A 'bloody splinter' that you got whilst agog about cavorting with a werewolf." Remus picked at Sirius' finger with his nails--still thick and sharp from the change--and the splinter came free under his gentle care. He graced his friend with a watery smile, and kissed the wound.
"Don't do it again."
The Wolf and the Lion
"You." Remus was lost for words. He had raised himself onto his elbows, but it seemed as though the only thing that kept him from falling back onto the white hospital sheets was his anger. Sirius had never seen him this livid: his face, already pale from the Change the previous night, could have rivalled those sheets for their whiteness. "I thought you were my friend, you selfish prat!"
"I was." Sirius began, faltered, and tried again. "I was just trying to keep you company!" That came out wrong. He thought about finite-ing Remus' silencing spell, bringing Madame Pomfrey in, making her calm him.
"You can't bloody keep me company, Sirius Black! I'm a werewolf! Are you so stupid that you think you can just. waltz up to me and we can figure out our transfiguration homework together?" Remus' knuckles were white now.
"No! I'm better at trans--I didn't think that at all!" Sirius drew himself to his full height, his expression supercilious. A danger sign: the Blacks were an ancient family, a pure family, and a dark family. Sirius had taken this very same stance, this exact expression, almost constantly outside of the Griffindor common room for months after the Sorting Hat had failed to put the latest Black in Slytherin. Sirius had more than a few cousins here-- all Slytherins, of course--and had been forced to defend himself using all the dirty tricks his pureblood upbringing had instilled in him. He still used them sometimes; Sirius Black had a nasty temper.
Remus didn't care: he was too absorbed in his own anger, pain and horror. He barely registered Sirius shouting back.
"I am your bloody friend, you daft tosser, and if I want to try and keep you company, then I bloody shall! And you didn't bloody hurt me, so I don't see what you're bloody on about!"
Remus crumpled, it was the only word for it. His face fell, he withdrew into himself, and his body fell back to lie on the sheets. His head lay half on, half off the pillow. The only sign he was still alive was his eyes: they stared at Sirius, half-heartedly blinking back tears. The boys stared at each other for a long moment, then Remus reached out a pale, shaking hand, to hold Sirius' own hand.
"But you did get hurt. Not by me this time," Sirius made to interrupt, but Remus silenced him with a look. "Not this time, no, but you were hurt nonetheless."
"Remi--," Sirius started, his voice soft. "It's a bloody splinter."
"A 'bloody splinter' that you got whilst agog about cavorting with a werewolf." Remus picked at Sirius' finger with his nails--still thick and sharp from the change--and the splinter came free under his gentle care. He graced his friend with a watery smile, and kissed the wound.
"Don't do it again."