Still Fighting to Walk Towards the Light
Chapter Ten
"Sirius?" Remus' call echoed through the house from the empty kitchen. He sighed and trudged up the stairs, pulling his cloak tighter. The house possessed a definite chill, hardly displaced by the short-lived fire through which he had arrived. It seemed remarkably drafty for a house designed to be a fortress, whose every window was covered by thick curtains to prevent spying.
He cast a glance toward each room he passed, but assumed that Sirius would be in his own room, as he usually was. At Sirius' door, Remus knocked lightly and the door opened slightly, showing a dark room.
"Lumos," Remus said softly, using his wand to cast light toward the rumpled, empty bed. A shadow jerked on the floor and Remus followed it to the bathroom door, left slightly ajar.
"Sirius?" He was answered by the sound of retching. Remus pushed open the door, wand held high to provide light.
Sirius hunched over the toilet, vomiting violently. He was wearing jeans and socks but nothing else, his skin pulled thin and pale over bones in the white light of the wand. Sirius spat once more then flushed the toilet, turning to look at Remus warily. "Ever heard of privacy?"
Remus waved his wand and the room lit up. "Damn it, Moony!" Sirius groaned, eyes pressed closed tightly. He lurched to his feet, turning to the sink to splash some water on his face and rinse out his mouth. When he turned back and moved toward the bedroom, Remus was suddenly hit with the reek of alcohol.
"You've been drinking," he observed. Sirius glared at him, pushing past him to the bedroom wordlessly.
"Is this what your life is going to be now, Sirius?" Remus demanded. "Just going to drink until you're sick? And you clearly haven't been eating."
"It's none of your business," Sirius snapped, pulling a t-shirt over his head, followed by a baggy sweatshirt. Even then, his frame still looked too small, and Remus could not ignore the way Sirius' bones had jutted.
"It is my business," Remus said slowly, trying to remain calm. "You are a member of the Order. You're important."
"Like hell I am," Sirius scoffed. "What am I good for? I stay in the house, I don't even go out for a bit of fucking air, all while you and Mad-Eye and even Harry for Merlin's sake are out there fighting Voldemort! What the hell do you think I'm good for?"
"You're keeping headquarters safe. You're here for all of us. For Harry." Remus' words sounded hollow even to his own ears, and he could see in Sirius' grey eyes that he did not believe a word of it. Sirius turned on his heel and stalked out of the room, Remus trailing behind him, down the stairs.
"Sirius, please, I just want to help," Remus tried. "Maybe I can stay here with you for a while."
"You're busy. And I don't need this."
"I'm not too busy for my friends!"
Sirius shrugged and stomped to the pantry and pulled out a bottle of firewhiskey. He twisted the top off and brought it to his lips, taking a long pull before Remus, furious, lunged forward and ripped the bottle from Sirius' hand, flinging it loosely toward the sink behind Sirius, where it shattered, bits of glass and searing liquid bursting forth and biting into Sirius' skin.
"Would you quit it? You can't spend your life feeling sorry for yourself! There are worse things than being stuck in this house!"
"What would you know about any of it?" Sirius roared, their faces inches apart. There was a flush high on his cheeks and his eyes burned with anger. "I've spent twelve years in Azkaban, and seventeen here! I think I'm entitled to a little self-pity!"
"Everyone has it hard, Sirius!" Remus retorted. "I have to live with werewolves, act inhuman. Do you think I enjoy that?"
"At least you're doing something!" Sirius spat.
Remus didn't respond. He turned away, breathing hard, clenching both his teeth and his fists. He remained like that for several minutes, allowing his anger to ebb, until he could finally turn to face Sirius again.
"I'm sorry," he said, voice rough from yelling. "I shouldn't have yelled. But you know I can't stand to watch you do this to yourself."
Sirius stood, trembling, face betraying no emotion but exhaustion. After a long moment, he looked Remus directly in the eye. "Then don't watch."
He had returned to Grimmauld place once after running away. He had vowed never to set foot in this place again, and yet, here he was standing on the doorstep. Lifting one hand, he knocked sharply on the heavy door.
It swung open immediately and he glanced down at Kreacher before entering the long, dark hallway. He found his parents in the parlor, by the sound of hushed voices and gentle sobs. He pushed the doors open and strode in, feeling the floorboards creak beneath his slight weight.
"Is it true?" he said roughly, his voice scraping out of his throat, past tears and regrets and bitter memories.
Walburga dissolved into tears, the black kohl she usually wore around her eyes making prison bars down her white cheeks. Orion stood, looming ominously.
"And what is it to you, boy?" he barked, eyes too bright. Sirius met his eyes coolly, noting the unusual wetness and the distance of them.
"He was my brother," Sirius said simply.
"He is not," Walburga choked out. "You're no son of mine!"
Sirius turned his gaze to her, observing her frailty, the exquisite thinness of her bones, the weakness of her skin and wondered that he was still afraid of her. Yet his voice betrayed nothing.
"Be that as it may," he began. "all I ask for is the truth. But I think I've already found it." He turned to leave, to walk out of this house for the last time, when a large hand caught his bicep and jerked him back around.
"This is your doing, isn't it?" Orion hissed. "You're the reason he's dead, and now you're coming to make sure the job is done. And no doubt you know that we are now in danger as well!" He towered over Sirius, face red and furious, teeth bared in the snarl of a cornered animal. "Maybe if I take care of you, we won't have a problem anymore."
"I had nothing to do with it," Sirius said, forcing himself to sound calm. "I heard that he died and came to be sure. Nothing more."
"You're lying."
Sirius did not reply, just glared into Orion's eyes. Orion's grip on his arm tightened, and already he could feel the bruise forming.
"Or maybe you're just here to pick the bones. Well, he didn't leave anything for you." Orion shoved Sirius abruptly, and Sirius stumbled back but remained upright, refused to fall as he once had, refused to be anything but strong in front of the man who used to be his father.
"I'll be going," Sirius intoned, turning and walking back out of the parlor, down the hall, forcing his legs to maintain a steady pace, not to break into a run, even when he heard the crash behind him as his father upended a table.
And he opened the door and stepped outside, apparated back to his own flat, where he collapsed onto the floor, legs weak, whole body shaking, lungs stretching and pulling for air but finding none.
He didn't know how long he remained that way until suddenly they were there with him, James with his arms wrapped around Sirius' shoulders, stroking his hair as Sirius buried his face in James's shoulder. Remus with his soothing words, helping James to pick Sirius up from the floor and half-drag, half-carry him to his bed. And Peter who tutted concernedly and heated water for tea, who sat on the end of the bed as Sirius curled into a ball around his pillow, while Lily held him, , smoothing her hand over his hair as he stared unseeingly past all of them. And they all listened as Sirius rambled nonsensically about the brother he'd failed and the man he'd become and parents who didn't love anything and the childhood that still tore at him, night after night after night until nothing was left but his bones.