Sirius watched from the sidelines, concerned, as Evelyn continued to drink, and to dance with every guy who approached her. He had danced with her for quite some time, until his dizziness returned, with the pounding in his chest, and he excused himself, taking a rest. He pressed his hand against his chest, willing his heartbeat to slow. Sirius desperately wanted to leave. He had seen the looks Evelyn was shooting Lucius, and he felt ill. Still, he felt the need to stay, to look after her.

"Siri," she said suddenly, draping her arms around his neck. "Dance with me again?" she slurred, her breath hot and reeking of gin.

"Evie... Don't you think we should turn in for the night?"

"I'll go home when he turns in for the night. I refuse to let him think that he's won. I don't need him, I can do whatever I want, have whoever I want," she slurred, biting his neck lightly.

Sirius pulled away, beginning to feel rather ill. "Is that all this is to you, Evelyn?" he asked quietly, dangerously.

Evelyn shrugged, tears pooling in her eyes. "NO. I don't know... I do like you, a lot, you know. I just... He and I... I thought it would be me walking down that aisle, Siri. I didn't think it would hurt this bad," she murmured, pulling him back closer to him.

"Let's go home," Sirius replied softly, soothingly.

"Forget Lucius. You need your rest.. And I need it, too," he continued, still clutching at his chest.

"What's wrong?" she asked, eyeing him suspiciously.

"My chest hurts... My heart's been pounding, it feels too fast," he replied, shrugging.

Evelyn gave him a concerned look, pulling him into an embrace. "I didn't realize you were getting that bad," she whispered in his ear, choking back tears.

"It's not a big deal. I'm fine," Sirius replied, shaking her off him.

"Evelyn, if I could have a word?" Lucius asked, approaching the pair.

"We were actually about to leave," Sirius said coldly, glaring at Lucius.

"You couldn't possibly leave without allowing me another dance, could you, Evie?" he said smoothly, offering Evelyn a charming smile.

Evelyn looked back and forth between the two men, torn. She gave Sirius a pleading look, begging him to understand.

"I'll be on my way then. I'll see you, Evie," Sirius replied, gritting his teeth. "Lucius," he muttered, nodding at the blond man. He turned on his heel, heading out towards the gardens. Without a second thought, he apperated back to James' house.

Carefully, Sirius snuck up the stairs, avoiding the steps that creaked. He slowly opened the door to James' bedroom, taking care to not wake him. He smiled at his bed, made and waiting for him. He was so, so tired. All he wanted to do was sleep. He quickly undressed, tossing his dress robes to the side, and crawling into bed. As he snuggled up under the covers, he heard James' voice, speaking to him.

"Didn't expect you to arrive this early," he croaked, sitting up slightly to face Sirius.

"Yeah, well. I needed to get out of there. Sorry to wake you, mate."

"Pads. It's okay. I'm glad you're home," James replied, laughing.

"So it didn't go well?" he asked, unnerved by Sirius' silence.

"Reg's a death eater," Sirius replied shortly, gnawing at his lower lip.

"I'm sorry, mate," James said quietly, getting up out of bed and joining Sirius in his.

He hugged his friend, trying to ignore the sharpness of his jutting bones, the coldness of his skin.

"Evelyn is still in love with Lucius."

"Are you in love with her?" James asked quietly.

Sirius laughed. "No. Not really. I mean, she's beautiful, sure. And it feels good to shag her, but I don't feel any type of way about her beyond camaraderie or something of the sorts."

"She's telling people we're dating," he continued, pulling his knees close to his chest.

"Are you okay with that?" James questioned.

"Doesn't bother me, much. I mean, I could see the upsides to it, to being with her. It's easy. We get along and we don't interfere with each others' affairs. She would make a good wife, I suppose," Sirius replied, shrugging his shoulders.

"I don't even understand love, mate. I mean... We're good friends, she and I. We're sexually compatible. Maybe with time, the love part will come?" Sirius asked, turning to James.

"Maybe," James mused, thinking.

"You've never been in love, Pads?" he questioned.

"Why do you ask?" Sirius replied, suspiciously.

"I'unno. I just mean.. You've never had a girlfriend, never really ever mentioned anyone you fancied, at all."

Sirius shook his head no. "No, I've never been in love... I told you that before, Jamie. I just... Girls are too messy, too confusing. I can't deal with them, or their bodies."

"But you can deal with Evelyn," James prompted.

"Evelyn isn't like other girls."

James watched on, concerned, as Sirius grasped at his chest.

"Are you okay?" he asked, eyes widening.

"Yeah.. Yeah. I'm okay. I'm just tired. I drank too much and Evelyn was out of control and I just don't want to think about it all," Sirius lied, rambling every excuse he could think of to stop James' prying.

"Alright, then. Happy Christmas, mate. See you in the morning?" James asked, standing up and wandering back to his own bed.

"Happy Christmas. See you in the morning," Sirius affirmed, closing his eyes, and letting the darkness consume him.

Christmas morning was a very pleasant affair at the Potters'. Sirius found himself enjoying the attention Mrs. Potter lavished on him, something his own mother had never done. The four opened gifts in the parlor before sitting down to Christmas brunch. Sirius tensed up considerably as he took his seat at the table, viewing the spread before him. Sirius placed two fried eggs on his plate, painstakingly cutting tiny pieces of the egg white, avoiding the yolk, altogether. He stuck his fork in the yolk, dragging it around the plate, creating a yellow swirl on the white dish. He winced as James kicked him in the shin, giving him a pointed look.

"Sirius, you have to try the french toast," Mrs. Potter chirped, placing two slices on a fresh plate and placing it before Sirius. "You look like you're wasting away, we can't have that, now can we?" she laughed, placing a warm hand on his shoulder.

Sirius stared at James, struggling to maintain his composure. Mrs. Potter wasn't aware of his condition, and James hadn't told her... Or had he? He shot a questioning look to James, who rolled his eyes in response. Feeling guilty, Sirius stabbed into the french toast, forcing himself to take a bite.

"It's delicious," he told Mrs. Potter, forcing a smile.

He grabbed his orange juice, taking a gulp to swallow down the food. Despite his stomach's protests, he continued to take bites of the french toast, willing himself to swallow every bite. The richness of the meal upset his stomach, not used to anything other than the bland safe foods he allowed himself. The sweetness of the syrup and cinnamon felt wrong in his mouth, making him feel nauseous. Still, he finished the serving, swallowing hard each time his body attempted to regurgitate the meal, demanding that the contents be forcibly removed from his stomach. Unable to stand the nausea any longer, Sirius stood, thanking the Potters for breakfast. He excused himself, forcing himself to walk calmly, slowly up the stairs. Once there, however, he bolted to the bathroom, not bothering to lock the door before he fell to his knees before the toilet, wretching up every hateful bite of his breakfast. It had been some time since he'd eaten enough to warrant such a forceful purge, so he was distracted. The ringing in his ears drowned out the noise of the door opening and closing once more. He heaved a final heave, spitting into the toilet, staring down at the awful mess of partially digested food, bile, and blood. He grabbed at his chest, his heart racing, yet again, more painful than ever. Shakily, he froze, sensing the presence of someone else in the bathroom. He turned around, taking in James' horrified expression, his arms hanging limply at his sides.

"James," Sirius started, still on his knees, too weak to pull himself up, to stand and even try to explain.

"You're throwing up blood, Sirius," James said softly, eerily calm.

Sirius shrugged, wiping his mouth on the sleeve of his shirt.

"This isn't the first time, is it, Sirius?"

Sirius turned away from James, turning his attention back to the toilet, to the contents. Sirius. Again, he was calling him Sirius. Normally, if he was worried or concerned, he'd use his nickname, to soothe him, to get him to open up. Padfoot, or Pads. But no, James was calling him Sirius. This was a far more grave matter, he supposed.

"How long have you been throwing up blood?"

"Couple months now," Sirius replied, still looking away, unable to face his friend, to see the disappointment in his eyes.

"You don't even care, do you?" James asked, his pitch rising a notch.

Sirius shrugged again, still looking away.

"Get on the scale, Sirius," James said coldly, sharply, pointing to the bathroom scale in the corner.

Sirius stood, grasping onto the bathroom sink for support.

"James, please," he begged, gnawing at his lower lip, drawing blood.

James crossed his arms, his eyes dark, angry.

Sirius did as he was told, standing on the bathroom scale as James stood behind him, observing, he supposed, or waiting to catch Sirius if he passed out. The numbers blinked for a moment, before flashing his weight: 6st 12.

Sirius flinched, hearing James' fist collide with the wall. He turned around sharply, staring at his friend, blood trickling down his chin, from his lip.

"Prongs-"

"I can't do this. I can't deal with this right now," James sputtered, his eyes still dark, angry.

"James, please-"

"I'm going to Lily's."

James turned on his heel, slamming the bathroom door shut, as Sirius sunk to his knees, tears rolling softly down his cheeks. Shakily, he dragged himself to his feet again, flushing the toilet and going about cleaning himself up. He splashed cool water against his face, carefully healing the cut in his lip. He rinsed his hands a final time, then exited the room, telling the Potters' that he was going to go and visit his girlfriend, and apparating promptly.