A/N: kate3110, hi again! I'm so glad you're here to help me go with this one! :D I was really, really happy seeing your review, thank you so much! I hope you'll like the next chapter, I had some struggles with getting it right...
Enjoy, read and review if you like it or hate it or want to give some advice!
Disclaimer: Nope. Nothing's mine.
Don't worry, be happy
The next few days were pretty peaceful and as normal as they could be in that old creepy inexhaustible source of cockroaches and rats. I started to accept the fact that I was going to remain trapped in here for the time being and the Weasleys were very helpful, cheerful and fun to spend time with, so my depression was cut to bare minimum. If I wanted some serious women's talk, I could always go help Molly in the kitchen. If I wanted to laugh and be silly, all I had to do was to turn around and see what twins and Ron were doing. If I wanted some serious discussions about politics and information about the outside world, I could ask Arthur or Bill whenever I liked it. But my favorite times were when we were all together, mostly in the evenings. Remus was here almost all the time too, and to my great delight, Dora was visiting quite often. After a week I finally got used to the house, which was in better state than the day I arrived, much because of our united forces to clean up. Now, every room which was being used was livable and I finally learned to find my way through the huge labyrinth of hallways. But, for some reason, I lacked courage and curiosity to snoop around. For example, I never went to the library or drawing room and some room next to Sirius' on which door stood just R.A.B. I was afraid some book enchanted with anti-muggleborn curses would attack me, I was freaked out with the noise coming from the room next to the drawing room and I was having a bad feeling about that mystery R.A.B. room, so naturally, I avoided going in there. And naturally, I never dared to step a foot into Sirius' room. It was just across the hall from mine, his door just two meters away from my door, and the door was always closed shut. Sirius… His condition didn't improve much during next two weeks. He was grumpy as ever and he talked only to Remus, Arthur or Tonks. He was avoiding Molly probably to get away from her nagging, he was avoiding kids probably because he was afraid not to lash out on them, and he was avoiding me because….well it's me. That Hermione girl arrived two weeks after my own arrival and she seemed a little bit up-tight, but I could see she was a kind person. After all, she was the only one who could find compassion for that gross house elf who certainly wasn't grateful for that.
A couple of days after her arrival, we were settled into nice routine. I would get up in the morning, get dressed (preferably into something thin and baggy because it was freaking hot), go downstairs to find Molly in the kitchen making breakfast and Remus and Arthur sitting for the table, sipping coffee and chatting easily. Mornings shouldn't be the time for some serious conversation after all. I would join Molly in the kitchen and she would give me one of her motherly smiles (even if she was only ten years older than me), and we would put breakfast on the table right on time for kids. Then they would trot down the stairs mussed and sleepy and usually still in pajamas (I was jealous of that. That was the only reason I was looking forward for their leaving the Grimmauld Place, I couldn't wait to walk the house in varying states of awful colorful childish pajama bottoms). Sirius wouldn't join us, of course. I was always wondering how the hell that man was still alive, even if he still looked like he was in Azkaban, when he wasn't even eating.
Well, one of those seemingly normal days, in the very end of July, I've got my answer. I was just dragging my legs to my bedroom on the laziest and most lackadaisical way ever, because it was so hot that fucking air was burning and I just wanted one good cold shower next to the open window. Admittedly, my abnormally low concentration and perceiving ability suddenly snapped to some very weird sound, coming from the drawing room. Usually, weird sounds were coming from the guest room next to the drawing room, but now that room was quiet. All I could hear was some odd crunching sound, like there was some living thing, breaking its own bones. Relax Vivian, this place is full with vermins. It's probably some moths, eating away whatever rotten furniture was in there. But of course, I wouldn't be irresponsible, reckless adult only by years and absolutely not by behavior, if I didn't go into the room to check it out. I slowly opened the door, feeling goosebumps rising all over the back of my neck, all because of an irrational dose of adrenalin. But, whatever was in there stopped whatever it has been doing when it heard the squeaky sound of the door. I was pretty confused now. Could moths hear? Nope, probably no. Because when I finally dragged my eyes around the old drawing room, I saw dusty couches, chairs and coffee table, some big rug? On the wall? Nevermind that, in the corner I saw something huge and black and I could see only its silhouette because the only light was coming from the hallway, where I was standing still and now really afraid. And when that huge, black thing moved I thought my heart was going to fail me. But then, it turned around and stood up and it could easily reach my chest with its tallness. And I recognized it. Black fur, wolf-like, grey-eyed animal was staring at me, carrying something dead in its mouth.
''Padfoot?'' I tried weakly. I knew it was still Sirius somewhere in his mind, but that didn't help me much. He was possibly even more dangerous and unpredictable than his animagus form. He just stared at me with those eyes, those so much Sirius eyes, that I felt a little exasperated even in my state of shock. He just had to analyze me even as an animal? I was still entranced with his eyes, so Padfoot startled me when he suddenly dropped that thing on the floor, and I could finally see what that was. It was a dead rat. So he was surviving on dead rats rather than seeing other people and eating like a normal man. I silently cursed myself; in the last couple of days I was so caught up in that perfect illusion of the big family, that I completely had forgotten how many problems this man had. Vivian, what kind of person are you? Why don't you help him? But he doesn't want it. Everyone tried. Even you tried, and he just keeps pushing you away. I was, once again completely unprepared and startled when he moved again. Padfoot made a step towards me and started to growl. In that moment, he resembled some wild wolf more than ever and I suddenly remembered his fangs digging into werewolf's flash, a long, long time ago. And I was scared shitless. I quickly got out of the room and closed the door behind me, trying to remember how to breathe and how to use my legs to get away. Only one question was wandering around my mind- What the hell has just happened?
Nothing eventful happened another couple of days; We were still trying to make home out of that terrible place, the Order members were still passing by as it was some kind of a train station, we always had plenty of food, snacks and fun, and of course, Sirius was still repulsive, lonely prat and my stomach would turn uncomfortably with guilt whenever he crossed my mind. I had to repeat to myself over and over again that he was not my concern. But, that only made me feel worse. Oh God, why is it already so hard?! And just when I thought that it couldn't possibly get any worse with him isolating himself and us doing nothing about his condition, that faithful night happened. That fateful night of his recklessness and my intruding nature triggered everything that happened later in my life (or so I believed). It was about one in the morning and I was in the shower, still trying to cool off a little and scrub away layers of sweat off my skin. I was actually trying to sleep before and this was actually my second shower for two hours but it was so unbearably hot that I was thinking of just sleeping on the cold tiles of bathroom floor. When I finally dragged myself out of the bathroom, cursing my insomnia and this weather from hell's depths, I heard something weird. Was it… grunt? Moan? At first I blushed, thinking that I heard something that I wasn't supposed to hear, probably coming from Molly and Arthur (excuse my perverted nature, I was sex deprived for too long), but then I realized that this floor was occupied only by me…and Sirius. I sat up in bed trying to figure out what the hell was going on. But then I heard it again, louder. And I shivered hard from that agonized, painful scream. I quickly ran across the hall and paused only when my hand was on the door handle. Am I intruding? Am I prying again? God knows Sirius accused me of that whenever we spoke. But what if he is in danger? What if something attacked him? I could hear only my heart loudly thumping against my ribcage when that awful scream left his throat again, and that was my wake-up call. I gathered all the courage I had (which wasn't much, I was a Ravenclaw, after all) and pushed the door open, vaguely remembering that this kind of stuff happened just a couple of days earlier when I caught him eating what I saw now was much, much more painful and terrifying for me than his animagus form.
Illuminated only by streetlights coming through the dirty window, laying sprawled across the bed, tangled in sheets was Sirius, not peaceful or calm not even for a second, but still asleep. He was throwing himself all over the king-sized bed, moaning and screaming with twisted, painfully frightened, tortured grimace on his already ruined face and all I wanted was to make him stop. But then my panic attack mode decided to kick in and I was there frozen, getting through the gears of my brain sluggishly slowly and hoping to find something, just fucking something to help him. I tried to steady my breathing and simultaneously recall all the things Remus had told me about Sirius' problems. And my panic attack subsided, only for some awful mix of guilt, fear and pity to replace it. He couldn't sleep. He slept only when he passed out in drunken stupor. And then, as if my senses switched on by themselves, I sniffed and alcoholic stench hit my nostrils, which meant that he still had his little stock of alcohol. I've let myself to dwell on fury for that little evil elf for a moment, but Sirius let another painful grunt and got me out of my detailed images of dead elf. Aaand here it was, panic attack again. But this one was good, this one made me to run across the room and crouch next to Sirius' bed. I really needed to wake him up and try to soothe him a little. I was having nightmares when my parents had died, so I tried to remember what helped me in those dark times. I vaguely remembered my grandma holding my hands and wiping tears off my face, whispering that she's here and it's all right. After that one flashback on my depressing youth and another throaty, agonizing and painfully tired half-scream coming from Sirius, I didn't hesitate even for a second longer. I sat on the bed and grabbed him firmly, but not roughly by the shoulders.
''Sirius… Sirius! Wake up!'' I tried to calm down my nerves enough to keep my voice from frightened wavering. He just let another strangled cry, not even feeling my gentle shaking. So, I tried a little harder.
''C'mon, Sirius, please wake up!'' Now my voice was going along with my hands, firm but gentle. ''C'mon… Please, you have to wake up!'' But my words came to sudden dead end when Sirius' eyes fluttered and he screamed so heart-achingly that I felt tears threatening to spill from my own eyes.
''James…N-no!'' he sobbed and I sobbed along. Oh Merlin…. It's been so long… And he is still trapped in the worst night of his life. He kicked and waved his hands, hitting himself, hitting nightstand, hitting headboard, hitting me. And I didn't feel it at all. I was trying to keep what was left of my soberness and tried to grab his frenzied hands, letting hot tears to finally spill down on my cheeks. This was one of the rarest times that I cried because of him. No, not because of him, for him. So this is what it looks like to have completely, utterly fucked up life. To have zero motivation for living. I wanted to fix him so badly. I had to fix him.
I finally caught his pathetically thin wrists and pinned them down on the bed, clenching my own tired fingers powerfully against his obscure bones. It was so sudden that his eyes finally fluttered open, gazing through sticky strands of black hair up at me with the most bewildered, childish, scared, pure look I have ever seen on him. He was like some lost child, afraid of his own loud breath in that moment. And it only made me want to cry harder, but I clenched my teeth. He always had brave, wild, mischievous, calculated, clever, lively look on his face. Never like this, never this vulnerable.
''Hey… it's fine. Everything's fine. Just breathe.'' When I think about it, I don't know where the sudden need to care for him like he was my own child or younger brother came from. I carefully put his bony hand on the bed and pushed one strand of his hair away from his face. His eyes widened even more, still not being fully awake and conscious, but then he closed his eyes and took a deep breath. I noticed his ribcage moving obscurely up, under his white, dirty T-shirt. God, he was so skinny he looked sick. I slowly moved my gaze back on his face, now with calmer, quiet expression and still closed eyes. And again that need to take care, to caress him took over. I barely touched him with the tips of my fingers, tracing the line of his still perfect, even if unhealthily sharp cheekbone. He had such a perfect face back then… Smooth forehead, aristocratic high cheekbones, perfect nose, not so thin, but not enough plump to call plump lips, and that beautiful sharp jaw line which was my favorite and only mine to kiss and caress. Ruined body, ruined soul? No. I would not allow that.
When he felt my feather-like touch he took one shaky breath, as if he was trying to relish on the sensation for as long as he felt it. It was my sign to keep going, or so I thought, so I finally plucked up courage and touched his cheek with my whole hand, feeling his rugged beard under my palm, along with rough skin under my fingers. I wasn't even aware that I was the whole time whispering to him some nonsense, trying to soothe him. I was so caught up seeing him in his fragile state that I hadn't even realized my huge mistake until it happened.
His eyes snapped open, suddenly awake and again dead and cold, but somehow in the same time burning with furious madness. He grabbed my hand roughly and pushed me off the bed, on the floor, falling down with me and in the same time feeling with his left hand around the nightstand, probably to find his wand. I was so shocked with his sudden movement that I didn't even realize that I was pushed off the bed, falling on my back and feeling immense pain in my spine. He finally found his wand and straddled me, poking me with his bony knees in outer thighs and held his wand against my throat. He looked like a different person, like he didn't even recognize me, with paranoia written all over his face and those eyes full of terror. I gulped.
''Sirius! It's just me! Stop it!'' I finally found my voice and even if it sounded higher pitched than usual, it was still reprimanding. That awful frightened madness finally left his eyes, only for immense rage to replace it. Fuck. This looks even worse.
''What are you doing here?!'' He was yelling with his raspy, hoarse voice, anger seeping through the every word. I was praying to higher forces for other occupants of the house not to wake up and see us like this, me extraordinary panicked and terrified under Sirius with mad glint in his eyes and loathe written all over his face.
''I was- you were screaming- nightmare- I was just-'' I tried to make some coherent sentence but it didn't really worked out as planed.
''Wha-?! How did you even hear-?! Fucking bloody hell, get out of here!'' He barked and growled and I had a half mind to imagine him turning into Padfoot and ripping me to pieces. Instead he got up, with his wand still pointed at me and still looking like he wanted to kill me, only now some form of defeated humiliation filled his features. I quickly got up, trying to gather as much dignity as I could and fled the room, leaving him there again, fucked up and alone. I shut the door of my own bedroom, still frightened and above all else confused, and when I heard door across mine snapping shut with the sound echoing around the hallway, I slid down my won closed door and let the tears and quiet sobs escape me. I couldn't bear to watch him like this anymore, and now for real.
Little did I know that in the same time, in the room across mine, curled up in the exactly same position against the door one man was sitting, staring off to space, disgusted by his own actions and above else, scared with his own emptiness.