Hey there!

I'm back, this time with a slightly longer story (I think it will last about three chapters). It's just my personal take on the aftermath of the Willow Incident during the Marauders' fifth year at Hogwarts - I hope you will enjoy reading it. As always, I've read it until my eyes started bleeding, but I just know so many more mistakes will pop up as soon as I post it ^^" Peter is surprisingly difficult to write without making a fool of him or describing him downright unpleasantly. I hope I managed to keep my dislike of him in check.

Warning: Sirius is no ball of sunshine in this one, and bad things do happen.

Disclaimer: of course I don't own Harry Potter or any of its characters and events. If I did, Tom would have been eaten by Aragog that night.


"I can't believe you did that!".

Neither could he.

"What the hell were you thinking?!".

He hadn't been.

"You could have gotten him killed!".

That had been the plan.

"You betrayed us!".

That… That Hadn't.

Sirius' steps faltered.

He had betrayed the Marauders.

He had almost gotten Remus to kill someone – the thing his friend feared the most other than biting some innocent bystander.

He felt horrible. Scratch that, he was horrible.

The knowledge that he had acted out of sheer hate and anger did nothing to make him any feel better, partly because it was no excuse anyway, and partly because he couldn't explain it to his (former) best friends. At least he had managed to keep his mouth shut about what had possessed him to tell Snivellus how to get past the Willow. At least he had kept Regulus safe. Well… as safe as his idiotic little brother would ever be, now that his delusions of grandeur would lead him to join the cult of Voldemort. He's going to get himself killed, Sirius though grimly.

He stopped a moment, tensing, straining his ears. No sounds made by another sentient being met his sensitive eardrums and, relieved, he resumed his brisk walk. He knew he shouldn't have been up and about, seeing as it was almost one in the morning, but the stars were out in full force that night, the star Sirius owed his name to shining like a midnight Sun. He hadn't been able to resist, so he had scurried to the astronomy tower and laid there for a couple of hours, with a bottle of Butterbeer as his companion. Not his usual Firewiskey, that would come later, when he retreated in the safety of the Room of Requirements, in which he currently resided. Right now even he knew how thin was the ice he was treading on, and that he couldn't afford to get caught because he was too tipsy to be quiet.

To go back to his current… Problem… He hadn't explained his behavior to his (former) mates. He had simply said he had been bored and irritated, and that Snivellus deserved it and even worse. As a result, neither James nor Remus were even looking in his general direction anymore. Peter did when he thought the other two couldn't see him (yeah, right), and for that Sirius was both grateful and annoyed – it showed that he still cared, but made him feel pitiful, and Sirius didn't do pitiful. It had been two weeks after that fateful night, two weeks since he had been reproached by a very disappointed Dumbledore, two weeks since he had last slept with the Marauders or had been less than five feet from them. The rest of the House – the rest of the school, really – seemed shocked by the rift born between them, but if Sirius could deal with the questioning and somewhat fearful stares of his fellow Gryffindors, the smugness on Snivellus' face made him seethe with rage. Still, he couldn't do anything, lest getting kicked out from Hogwarts. And he loved Hogwarts. For all his mischief, for all his not studying… The school gave him a sense of peace, a sense of belonging he had only felt in another place… At James' house.

At the mere thought of Godric's Hollow, his stomach dropped. There was no way James would allow him to stay there, not after what happened, no matter how much Sirius hated the mere idea of being forced to spend the whole summer at Grimmauld Place. And being underage he couldn't just go and stay by himself… What was he to do now? Maybe he could ask Dumbledore to let him stay at the school? He could promise not to cause trouble, not to break in the professors' offices, to behave… No, the Headmaster wouldn't allow it. Sirius was too unpredictable, too unreliable. He'd tell him he was just reaping what he had sown and would send him straight into Walburga and Orion's arms.

Sirius shuddered.

No, he'd rather die. He'd rather kill himself than staying at the mercy of… Those people for so long. He couldn't. He wouldn't. Maybe he could pretend to go and then come back secretly? Or maybe he could transform into Padfoot, find a nice family to stay with for the summer, not far from King's Cross, play as their pet for a while as he waited for the summer to end…

Lost in his schemes and machinations, he didn't notice the three figures waiting for him until it was too late to do anything but stop right in front of them.

Nott.

Snivellus.

Regulus.

Sirius watched them, wide-eyed, perfectly still, registering Nott's sly expression, Snivellus gleeful sneer, and Regulus blank face. They all had their wands out.

Oh, he was in deep shit, alright.

Whatever they decided to do, he couldn't react – it was his word against that of Regulus, of a Head Boy, and of the boy he had tried to kill fourteen days prior. It wasn't difficult to imagine to who McGonnagal and Dumbledore would listen to. That, and if he made too much noise and attracted attention to himself when he wasn't supposed to be out of the Gryffindor tower in the first place, he would be expelled faster than he could say bludger.

"Well, well, well… What a pleasure, Black" drawled Nott.

Sirius didn't answer.

He almost yelled when a sudden curse hit him right in the stomach – he caught himself just in time not to. Instead, he fell to the floor with a barely concealed yelp.

"Use your manners, would you, Black?" whispered Nott, threateningly sweet.

"I was taught not to lie, Nott" spat Sirius, trying to get up, only to be thrown against the wall by another curse – only this time it was Snivellus doing.

"First you try to kill Severus, now you insult me?" asked the Slytherin Head Boy, his forehead creased in fake perplexity: "You are even more of a rabid dog than Regulus had me believe".

At those words, gray eyes so similar and yet so different from Sirius' shifted to the ground.

"Why don't you come here and let me bite you? Maybe you'll find exactly how much of a rabid dog I am" growled Sirius. Another curse hit him right where the first impacted, doubling him over and gasping for breath, coughing out bile.

"Black…" sighed Nott.

And he would have probably said something else, but Sirius whipped his head up and, completely disregarding him, spoke directly with his younger brother, his now passionate stare burning with disgust, ire, desperation, and prayer.

"Are these the people you want to associate for the rest of your life with?!" he growled, his voice hoarse: "People who need to go two against a defenseless one?! Is this what you're going to do?! Cursing innocent people because of their blood?! Lick the shitty boots of that megalomaniac git who-!".

His rant was interrupted by a series of curses that hit him like a hailstorm – his face, his torso, his legs, and his back once he was sprawled on the floor. It didn't matter how much he curled up on himself, they reached everywhere on his body, not an inch of his skin was safe.

Finally, what seemed to be an eternity of pain and suffocated whimpers later – quiet, I must be quiet, can't let anyone see me out here – the curses stopped. He remained there, unmoving save for the heavy panting. The taste of blood was heavy in his mouth, and he could feel some sort of warm, viscous liquid on his shirt. Did a curse cut him?

"Let's go, before anyone sees us".

Those words, that voice, grounded him suddenly.

"Reg…!" he exhaled, trying to pull himself up, not paying any mind to the copious trail of blood that slowly trickled on his chin from inside his mouth – that wasn't important, this was important, it was his last chance to save his brother, to talk him out of his stupid delusions and make him come back: "Reg, you can't…! P-please…! Come back, Reg…! Reg!".

His brother didn't even turn.

Nor did Nott.

Snivellus oh, he turned, a disgusting triumph lighting up the depth of his dark stare.

And that triumph more than anything was what did it for Sirius – the three Slytherins had just rounded the corner when he laid his bruised forehead on the cold stones, eyes wide open and oddly burning.

Sirius had lost – he had lost everything.

His blood brother.

His adoptive brothers, and any kind of positive familiar figure he had ever had.

He was alone.

He was worthless.

A wretch, just as his mother always said.

Sirius didn't know how much time he spent there on the ground, but the distant echo of steps brought him back to reality – a reality that had never seemed bleaker.

He slowly managed to climb upright, using the wall on his left for support. The curses had done a number on him – he could feel the bruises on his face, torso, and back, and there was a large, deep gash that ran from his left shoulder almost to his right hips. Would it scar?

Who cares?

As he started to walk again, he realized that a couple of his ribs must have been broken – the quantity of blood that kept leaking slowly on his chin made a lot more sense now, as well as the difficulty he had in breathing. Punctured lung, possibly. His right knee kept buckling under his weight, and the enormous bruise he could feel on the shin of the same leg didn't really help his predicament.

He needed to go to the infirmary. Sirius was pretty good with healing charms (he had to be, with parents like his), but a punctured lung was risky – a misjudgment and he would end up with a rib permanently stuck in there. So, infirmary it was, hoping Poppy to be in a charitable enough mood to help him without ratting him out to McGonnagal come morning.

He was perfectly aware to be limping towards the steps he kept hearing but, as long as it wasn't Peeves or Nott, Snivellus and Regulus again, Sirius was pretty sure he could manage what was to come.

Or, so he thought until he rounded the corner.

Two pair of green eyes – but in different shades – were watching him, surprised and weary.

That Remus noticed him was probably even lucky. Or unlucky, seeing that he had no reason to look the other way and not punish him now that they were not friends anymore.

But right now that didn't seem to matter somehow since both he and Lily were staring at his battered figure, horror plain on their faces.

Sirius quickly shut his mouth to keep the blood in and ran the sleeve of his uniform on his chin, trying to clean it of blood but ending up with smearing it even more on his pale skin.

"Sirius, what the hell…?!" gasped Remus, taking a step forward.

Sirius flinched.

No, please. Anything but that. He was neither mentally nor emotionally equipped to deal with that tone. He would break down again, and he couldn't, he wouldn't, he didn't have the right…

The world was looking pretty odd, he noticed suddenly. He could have sworn it was in colors not but a few seconds ago, but now it was in shades of gray, which were heavier at the edge of his vision.

"I'm fine" he managed to cough out.

The dripping sound the blood from his mouth made when it hit the ground kind of contradicted him, and Sirius just stood there, swaying, staring reproachfully at the small puddle at his feet. It was his blood. It shouldn't misbehave like that.

His blood. His blood shouldn't misbehave. His blood. His blood.

He shuddered, a sense of panic settling into him.

He could feel Walburga breathing down his neck, cooling the skin to ice.

"Like hell you're fine, Sirius!" exclaimed Lily, taking a tentative step too.

He would have noticed the first time the red-haired Prefect called him by his first name had he not been too busy trying to run from the woman he felt taking shape in the shadows behind him.

"I… Just need Poppy…!" coughed Sirius, taking a couple of steps forward.

"Sirius…!".

He could feel Orion's curse squeezing his lungs, he could feel Walburga's hands hitting his face, he could feel his belt, no, her parasol hitting his back repeatedly.

"Sirius!".

He had to run, he had to hide, they would kill him!

"SIRIUS!".

The world, which had gotten darker and darker and darker, suddenly stopped spinning.

Would it be so bad, after all?

There was no sound, no shape, no color, nothing.

Ah, such a pity.

Under Lily's and Remus' terrified stare, without as much as a sigh, Sirius fainted.


He came to because of the light.

He stayed awake because of the voices.

"He said he was fine…!"

"… Was vomiting blood…!"

"… Has been…!"

"… Cursed, real curses…".

Sirius stifled a groan.

Merlin's beard, what had he done to the world that he couldn't catch a five minutes break?!

Oh, right.

He had betrayed his friends.

Serves him right, then.

"Lily! Remus!".

Sirius' gray eyes snapped open, and he couldn't prevent his muscles from coiling.

Dumbledore was there.

There being, unsurprisingly enough, the infirmary. He was prone on a bed near the very end of the spacious room, surrounded by familiar thick curtains that granted him some privacy. His wounds had been treated, and by the fact that he could breathe normally again, he instantly knew his ribs had been set and his lungs mended. It was still dark – the light that had disturbed him came from the single torch someone had lit, not from the outside. Lily and Remus, bless their itsy bitsy hearts, must have brought him there right after he collapsed on them. Well, leaving a student to bleed to death on the floor was probably unbecoming of a Prefect, so…

"Did he tell you what happened?".

"No, Professor" whispered Lily, unusually unsteady: "He just said he needed to see Madame Pomfrey…".

"He made a couple of steps" added Remus, and it was easy for Sirius to clearly detect a not small amount of stress underneath his calm exterior: "Then he lost consciousness. I conjured a stretcher and we brought him here immediately. Madame Pomfrey has already treated his wounds and declared him out of danger".

"I see" replied Dumbledore, just as quick steps made by smallish feet approached them at a fast pace.

"It happened on the seventh floor".

McGonnagal.

"There is a pool of blood there, Albus, and signs of curses being used" she continued, her voice as cold as ice: "No defensive magic".

"This means that he either knew his attacker and didn't expect such treatment, or that he chose not to defend himself" concluded Dumbledore heavily.

"Professor…".

Sirius had never heard Remus hesitate so much.

"… Do you think that… That it could have been because…?".

"Most likely" answered Dumbledore drily: "The timing is certainly suspicious".

"What?" asked Lily, sounding confused: "You know who did this to him, Remus?".

"Er – not… Not exactly" was the tentative response: "I have someone in mind, but – I don't like throwing accusations around".

"The only one who can confirm our theory is Sirius himself" interjected Dumbledore: "Poppy, would it be too stressful for him to awake now?".

"It would be best to wait until morning" sniffed the nurse, who had been silent until then: "Surely if a student did this they won't flee into the night, right?".

"Yes, I suppose so" mused Dumbledore: "Very well then, we shall wait tomorrow".

Their voices started waning, and Sirius couldn't help but heave a very small sigh of relief. He wasn't ready to be questioned – in truth, he didn't want to be questioned at all. He didn't want to put Regulus in danger, to jeopardize his career at Hogwarts, not even after… His throat closed up painfully, and he hurried to think of something that wasn't his blood brother.

He would have to answer to Dumbledore, tomorrow, and probably to McGonnagal too. He could manage, provided that they didn't bring Remus or James with them – not that either would want to come, but Sirius didn't think his (former) friends would have the guts to refuse if Dumbledore asked… Sirius wouldn't either. With Dumbledore's legilimency Sirius could deal easily enough (thank you so very much, dear father), and he didn't care if the Headmaster knew he was lying or countering his mind-reading magic. The dark-haired youth knew the old wizard wouldn't call him on it – Dumbledore had his personal brand of strangeness – and McGonnagal wouldn't employ her own legilimens capabilities, because she'd rely on Dumbledore's. As long as the professor kept his mouth shut, she'd have no reason to think Sirius was lying or hiding parts of the truth – whichever he felt like doing come morning.

The only three people in the whole castle who would immediately spot the lie were Remus, James, and Peter. But the latter certainly wasn't brave enough, he wouldn't dare to tell their teacher if Sirius was being untruthful or withholding something from them – hence his presence not worrying the (former) Marauder that much. James and Remus, on the other side, were nothing but brave, and in the light of the recent events, they would have no qualms in calling bull the moment they caught the smell of a lie.

For the first time in five years, Sirius didn't really feel like seeing them.


As always, constructive criticism is much appreciated!