CHAPTER FOUR

The sun was golden and gleaming as it unfolded gently over the horizon. However, its heat had only just begun to warm Sirius' part of the world, and a breeze made him pledge to stay beneath his blankets.

Damn this, he cursed silently. Focusing his mind, he let his body relax into transformation and felt hair ripple across his skin, bones shift and rearrange, and new muscles and sinew twining themselves gently into place.

Slinking out from beneath the sheets, the immense, dark bulk of the animal that had earned him the name "Padfoot" leaped from the bed and silently to the floor. A graceful creature that moved stealthily and with great agility padded over to the cracked and boarded pane of glass that was the window.

It stood still for a while, before its rump hit the floor with a sudden thump. The tail did not wag, the ears stood still and at attention. The massive dog stared unblinkingly at the casement, as though thinking; evaluating.

Fuck this, thought Sirius. There ain't no fucking way I'm attempting to get rid of those things. I'm just gunna have to go downstairs.

Sirius knew he would have to face Remus. His face was flushed red as he changed back to a human form, now cold. His dog form was intended to keep him warm in the morning air, but seeing as he would now have to go and face Remus, those few minutes had been wasted.

The light downstairs was extremely dim, and it was as much as Sirius could do to see his way down the stairs. Dust floated through the musty air, sticking to the inside of his throat and forcing him to swallow. He rounded a turn in the staircase and before him, limp and unmoving, sat Lupin.

Sirius' eyes flickered around the room before him. He took in the shattered tumbler; the fragments of glass littered so evilly across the floor. The dead fire; remnants of something once alive and thriving. The man in the chair; cold, unmoving, his back to Sirius.

Mere seconds was all the dark-haired man needed to dash to his friend's side. He slapped him, hit him, threw water over him, kicked him. Still, Lupin did not stir.

"STOP IT, YOU MORON. I'm BLOODY AWAKE."

Lupin glared at Sirius from his armchair, sopping and looking rather bedraggled. "I've been awake the whole time."

"But you were just sinking deeper into the chair! Like, crumpling!"

"I was cowering, you imbecile!"

Sirius wanted to kill himself. His face burned and his eyes smarted, but he forced himself to control his actions.

"I'm sorry, Remus. I really thought something was wrong. I didn't want to see you die again, y'know?"

"Again?" Remus enquired, but even as he asked he recalled the vivid nightmare Sirius had experienced, haunting and traumatising. "Oh, yes. Sorry."

Lupin rose slowly from the armchair and Sirius stepped back to let him pass. A sharp yelp of pain cut through the air and Remus turned to see Sirius with a fist stuffed deep into his mouth to keep from crying out.

Sirius held his foot in the air, a few inches from the floor. Something glinted cruelly, and Lupin looked to the floorboards. Surrounding his friend lay the fragments of his Firewhiskey glass.

Idiot! he yelled at himself.

Lupin flailed mentally for a moment, before deciding he would have to carry Sirius out of the ring of shattered remains. Crunching over to his friend, he wrapped one arm around his waist, as Sirius draped an arm over Lupin's shoulder and clutched his shirt.

"Ready?" Sirius nodded. "'Kay; three, two, one, lift!"

Lupin hoisted Sirius onto his hip, balancing his friend ungracefully on his side and staggering back to the armchair in which he had been sitting. A difficult manoeuvre left Lupin holding Sirius in the bridal fashion, and he lowered him onto the chair, taking care not to touch his foot.

"Dammit, Lupin, listen to me! I'm not a freakin' child! PUT ME DOWN."

Lupin stared dumbstruck at Sirius, wondering what on earth he was talking about.

"I…Have, Sirius, I just put you down."

"Yeah, like a freakin' two year-old."

"But you hurt your—"

"That doesn't mean you have to carry me like a god-damn baby!"

Lupin blushed, muttering apologies. Sirius looked away, and whether he wanted to admit it or not, he was pouting.

Damn, I'm an idiot, the werewolf muttered to himself as he went to retrieve his wand. It had been in his coat when he left it at the front door—stupid of him, he knew. He had been taught far better than to leave his wand simply lying around. He tugged it from deep within an inner breast pocket and jogged quietly back into the living room.

"Sirius?"

Sirius grunted.

"Um…This is going to hurt, you know that. So just—I'm just warning you."

"I know, mate. I've had worse. If I could bloody see the injury I'd do it myself."

"Okay."

Lupin went about removing the glass buried deep within the sole of his friend's foot. Not once did Sirius make a sound, though the single thought running through his mind was this hurts like Hell.

The procedure was over within five minutes, and the cuts had sealed as though they had never even been there. Sirius swung his legs off the arm of the chair and stepped cautiously onto the wooden floor, wary of the glass shards that still littered it. He navigated his way around them, and returned to the task he had originally come downstairs to undertake—preparing a cup of coffee.

Who knew simple coffee could cause such a damn fuss? Sirius though facetiously to himself as he spooned the instant coffee into a mug. He couldn't be bothered preparing real coffee this morning. Too much had already taken place, and at that moment he didn't have the patience for it.

He patted his pockets, looking for his wand, but couldn't find it.

"Damn!"

"What is it, Sirius?" Lupin seemed guarded, even slightly nervous. Sirius ignored it.

"I left my bloody wand upstairs. I always do that. Always."

"Calm down Sirius, it's only your wand. What did you need it for?"

Sirius threw his hand in the general direction of the kettle. Lupin, still seeming anxious, flicked his wand and brought the water to boiling point.

"Thanks," the dark-haired man muttered grudgingly.

▫ ▫ ▫

Lupin stood, not really sure what to do with himself. Sirius stared darkly into his coffee, both palms spread and pressed flat against the marble kitchen bench. The steam, Remus knew, would be curling into his friend's eyes, but the mop of rarely-washed black hair hung before over his face, leaving Lupin feeling rather unwanted. As though that thin, grimy veil of hair was a solid brick wall that Sirius had built between himself and the werewolf—a show of wanting to be alone.

He stood for a moment longer before deciding he looked foolish, and turned to leave. He padded quietly across the carpet, refusing to let himself even glance at Sirius.

"You want one?"

"Huh?" Lupin turned around a little too fast. Sirius smirked at him from deep within dark tresses.

"You want one?" His eyes flicked briefly toward his coffee cup, signalling for his hands.

"Uh—No, I'm alright."

"You look terrible, you know."

Lupin nodded shyly, surprising Sirius.

"I know. I've been awake all night."

All night, he thought to himself. "Dammit, Lupin, why the Hell did you do that?"

"Um…I was thinking." The last few words were muttered. The intent behind this was to stop Sirius from remembering the previous night, but the difference in tone only proved to help the man remember it. His eyes returned to the coffee cup, and he said no more.