part four
Never in his life had Sirius' eyelids felt so heavy. It was a strain, but he forced them open and for a moment all he saw was white as the unnaturally bright sky left him blinded.
'Welcome back.'
The pain hit Sirius next, a deep ache as heavy as lead pounding against his skull, doubling with every beat of his heart. He groaned.
'Honestly, I turn my back for one minute, and look what happens. So … how do you feel?'
That was James' voice, Sirius realised, but all comprehension ended there. He was disoriented, the world spinning past his swimming eyes, refusing to come into focus.
'I hope you know how lucky you are, the both of you. Scared me half to death when the Aurors flew past. Peter and I run outside to see and here's you sprawled on the ground, covered in blood. I couldn't for the life of me work out what had happened until I saw them taking down that … that fucking filthy piece of degenerate scum.
'You couldn't blame him, but I thought he'd gone mental, Remus. I don't think he's cried once the whole time we've known him, but the moment they lifted the curse, he went abs—'
Remus!
Panic-stricken, Sirius sat bolt upright, fighting with the blankets that were holding him down and keeping him from getting back to Remus. Then, so too was James.
'Calm down, Sirius,' James said, his hands on Sirius' shoulders pushing him to the bed. 'It's over. You're in the hospital wing.'
'But Remus!'
'He's in the dormitory, he's fine.'
Sirius' eyes darted between James'. 'The dormitory?'
'You've been unconscious,' James said. 'Remus was here for a while, with Dumbledore and a couple of the Aurors, but they let him go about half an hour ago. He's probably sleeping it all off as we speak.'
Taking in his surroundings, Sirius saw that he was, as James had said, in the hospital wing. With relief and a strange sense of disappointment, he collapsed back onto the bed.
'And Greyback?'
James shrugged. 'At the Ministry, I suppose. The Aurors took him.'
'Good.' Sirius sighed heavily, rubbing his face in his hands. 'What the fuck happened?'
'Well, you got a concussion from the fall, which is why you've been out of it for so long, and he broke your nose, Remus did. You should see yourself.'
'What?!' Sirius couldn't help feeling his face to survey the damage. 'Why?'
'Oh, don't worry,' James said, and the bastard actually looked amused by Sirius' panic. 'You still look like you're embarrassingly pretty old self.'
'Oh, piss off.'
'They fixed you up good as new, but you've got an impressive set of black eyes. Real shiners.' James grinned. 'I'm a bit jealous, actually.'
Sirius appreciated the effort, but his thoughts were elsewhere. 'What happened after? I mean, how is Remus? Nothing happened to him, right?'
'Well, your face dislocated two of his fingers and split his knuckles open.' James' smile wavered quickly. 'Other than that, he's fine. He had to recount the whole thing for the Aurors, but he hasn't said much since.'
Sirius sat up in the bed. 'The Aurors were still around?'
'Broke ranks to stick around as a favour to Dumbledore. Guess they're pretty loyal to him.'
Sirius nodded. 'And Remus, is he ... is he alright?'
It took some moments of solemn thought before James answered simply, 'He will be.'
'Pomfrey about?'
'No, but it doesn't matter anyhow,' James said. 'She said you were free to go as soon as you woke up.'
Sirius didn't waste a moment, but as soon as he threw off the covers and climbed out of the bed, he realised all he had on were his trousers and socks. He cast a searching glance around the room.
'Where are my clothes?'
'Oh, here.' James reached to the floor. 'Well, your shoes, anyway. Everything else was covered in blood. The house elves took them for cleaning.'
The news didn't bother Sirius; he simply put his shoes on and left. Walking back to Gryffindor tower, they certainly got a few stares, what with Sirius being black-eyed and shirtless, not to mention the bruises already forming on his forearms where Remus' fingers had dug in. No one said a word, however. They might have simply assumed he'd been in a fight, if it wasn't for the betraying look in their eyes.
Either way, Sirius wasn't paying them any mind at all.
He and James arrived in their dormitory to find Remus, as James had guessed, fast asleep. His hair was in his eyes and he was fully dressed atop the covers, but he looked decidedly peaceful, Sirius thought as he found some clean clothes in his trunk and pulled them on.
Sitting on his own bed, Sirius watched Remus, ruminating over the afternoon's turn of events. It's not fair, he thought. How is it that the worst things always happen to the best people?
He could imagine James' response: "It could have been worse," and, "He's lucky you were there." It wasn't true. If Sirius hadn't been there, Remus would have stayed in Honeydukes and not wandered so directly into danger.
Of course, he remembered what for.
James stepped close enough to briefly lay a hand on Sirius' shoulder.
'Come on,' he said, his expression sober. 'Let Remus sleep.'
#
Not a single one of Remus' transformations had ever managed to leave him looking so drained as he did when he finally emerged later that evening. Devoid of colour and with shadows beneath his eyes, the nap didn't seem to have done him any good. It wasn't this that tugged at Sirius' guilt, however. It was the dejected look on his face, the defeated slump to his shoulders, the way he kept his arms crossed over himself.
Dinner was a mostly silent affair. Remus didn't want to talk, the rest of them didn't know what to say, and so they stared at their plates, fiddled with their cutlery and chewed the tasteless food like it was a chore.
Sirius' thoughts were monopolised - his most foolish, regrettable kiss replaying over and over in cruel, relentless mockery. He'd done a lot of stupid things in his time, but this, he thought, was definitely the worst. It was a peculiar thing, in hindsight, and yet it escaped his focus somewhat; it had been some crazed impostor, surely, and not he himself who had done this.
Beneath the denial, however, one small thing, an abstraction of the truth perhaps, bothered him ceaselessly: that kiss had not come from nowhere, and he knew it.
In the week that followed, Remus' silence became resolute, but only as far as it was directed at Sirius. Everyone else was spared his stony ire, and rightly so, but it made Sirius feel as conspicuous as though he were standing under a spotlight in a dark room. James and Peter came to the conclusion that, for some reason, Remus blamed Sirius for what had happened with Fenrir, and he might have been glad for their confidence in the theory if it weren't for the questions that accompanied it.
'I don't see what his problem is,' Peter said one particular evening as they lounged in the Gryffindor common-room. 'You might as well say you saved his life.'
Sirius didn't particularly agree with that assessment, but didn't get the chance to argue.
'Wormtail.' James pointed over their shoulders.
Remus stood there, jaw clenched, his narrowed eyes dark and accusing. He'd been right behind them, passing on his way to the dorm, not doubt, and so he'd overheard.
'You idiot,' Sirius said to Peter. He jogged after Remus and chased him up the stairs, struggling to catch up.
'Hey!'
Remus didn't answer him, but pushed through their dormitory door so violently it bounced back at Sirius as he, too, entered. In the middle of the room, with nowhere left to go, Remus finally faced him.
'Ignore Peter,' Sirius said. 'He's—'
'Is that what you think?' Remus spoke over the top of him. 'That you saved me?'
'No.'
'I'm not surprised you've been playing up your heroics,' Remus said, and the scorn in his voice, the utter contempt in his expression, made Sirius feel two feet tall. 'But why don't you try telling him what really happened? Why don't you tell him how you humiliated me?'
The floor fell from beneath Sirius' feet, taking his insides with it. He clutched the nearest bedpost.
'Is that what I did?'
He got no answer. He'd have asked again, only Remus stared him down so hard the question died before the thought of it was even fully formed.
'Get away from me!'
Sirius did, turning his back on Remus' anger and leaving as he'd come, but he didn't return to his seat beside James in the common-room. Instead, he kept walking, not losing pace until he was outside and amidst the greenhouses. Here, he slumped against the cold glass and sank to the ground.
If Remus had asked him why he'd done it, he would not have had an answer. Now it was too late. It was done, and he could never take it back.
