Secrets Are Walls That Keep Us Alone

Chapter Fifty-Three

The whispers haunt him. They thread around him, tying him up in a net.

"Worthless."

"Stupid."

"Fat."

"Disappointment."

"Disgrace."

They smirk at him, push at him, whirl about him, dancing in circles, kicking up dust from the intricate carpet that covers a million galleons worth of dark magic.

"Weak."

"Pathetic."

The door creaks menacingly, lurching awkwardly into the room, shielding the newcomer from view. The rusted door knob wriggles as a hand remains clenched around it, warping it.

"SIRIUS!" The bellow shakes the room, furniture legs chirping like crickets against the floor, happily laughing at him as the ceiling sprays him with dust and the floor reels so violently that he pitches forward, hands out in front of him, the wooden boards clawing at his palms, a loose nail sinking its teeth in.

Sharp, echoing footsteps knife into his ears, the floor vibrating with the force, lungs being crushed by the weight of boots.

His hair being pulled, neck straining back, blurriness dancing at the edges of his vision around Orion. Large, firm features surrounded by neat, dark hair. Perfect statue, but not the eyes, they reach out flaming fingers of hate, paralyzing.

A fleshy blur and the rings connect. Silver, family crest; gold, wedding band; diamond, just for status; onyx, just for pain.

Sirius coughs and sees red, his own red, slicking his lips, dribbling down his chin to pool on the beaten floorboards. It smears on his fingers red-orange, like the colour of the sky when the sun dips below the turrets of Hogwarts on a clear fall day.

Arm twists tight, up and up until he is wobbling unsteadily on trainers with no traction on a floor that refuses to hold him.

Lightning scorches, shadows hiss. With the crack of thunder is the snap of an unfurled belt, and the liquid red glides across his death-white skin. The leather shrieks again as it taints his skin, but he won't speak. No, he can't speak. The whispers are choking him.

Again, again, again, again, and his father doesn't tire. A boot, a belt, a ring, it all comes out the same red.

He lays still looking up, watching the electricity burn through the ceiling, the water drips down on his cheeks. The atmosphere pushes in. His chest does not rise or fall. He plays dead. The full moon howls its wolf song.

Raised to his feet, shoulders crushed in hands too large, he watches as Orion's face is carved away. The nose more defined, the jaw more square, the hair longer, the eyes embers of wrath from Sol.

James' teeth clench, mouth forms a line, eyes determined, and the words draw out.

"I hate you," he rumbles, and Sirius falls. The floorboards don't catch him, no wand, nor broomstick, nothing could save him, as the darkness slinks in, spiraling around him and binding him tight as his friend soars higher and higher.

"I'm sorry!" His vocal cords whine out of tune. "I'm sorry, please, please I'm sorry!"

"Sirius…" It pulses at him from every direction, and he twists away from its grasp, in on himself. "Sirius…Sirius!"

"Sirius!"

"No!" The word raged its way out of him as his eyes tore open and settled on the face of Remus. "I'm sorry."

"It's okay," Remus whispered, pulling him close. Sirius shook so hard he felt dizzy, and he wrapped his arms tight around his friend, trying to anchor himself.

When Sirius was still and Remus let go, Sirius wiped the sticky remnants of tears from his cheeks.

"You okay now?" Remus asked, and Sirius coughed out a 'yes.' His stomach still churned and his eyes still saw blood, but he was fine, just fine.

Remus sat on the end of his bed, and Sirius sat in the middle, blankets wrapped too tight around him, strangling.

"Have you been having that nightmare much?"

He shook his head, hard.

"Do you want to talk about it?"

Sirius shook his head again, looking away.

"Why aren't you talking?"

"Sorry. Sorry I woke you up."

"Don't worry about that, I don't mind. I just worry about you."

"Don't. It's over now." Sirius untangled himself and got out of bed. "What time is it?"

"Almost four," Remus answered, still sitting on the bed. "Aren't you going to go back to sleep?"

"I'm not tired," Sirius said quickly.

"Oh." Remus frowned. "What are we going to do then?"

"No, Moony, you should sleep," Sirius protested. "You don't have to get up early."

"But then what would you do?"

"Go for a run, or do some homework, or something," Sirius muttered, looking around for jeans. "I can entertain myself."

"You sure?" Remus asked, suppressing a yawn. "I'll stay up if you want me to."

"No, go back to sleep. I'm sorry I woke you up."

"It's fine." Remus stood up and stretched, then shuffled sleepily back towards his bed. He turned back to Sirius halfway there, running a hand through his hair and making it stand on end. "Hey, whatever you do, you should try to be back by the time Lily comes in to yell at James. It'll be a good show."

"Don't let her start without me," Sirius smiled, and Remus nodded.

He changed quickly and hurriedly left the dormitory. He got to the Quidditch pitch undeterred, but couldn't bring himself to start running. Instead he sat in the stands.

Sirius still felt shaky, like he might just collapse if he did anything too strenuous. His breaths were wobbly and uncertain, like he was new at the whole lung functioning thing. He held out his hands in front of him, watching the fingers trembling over the soft denim of his jeans. His hands bent into fists, fingernails stinging palms. Now his hands were solidly still.

He could have told Remus he had been having that dream every night for weeks. Remus would've understood. He faced his own demons. And then Remus would have walked with him down to the hospital wing to ask for a Dreamless Sleep potion, and that would've been that. He wouldn't be sitting in the stands, yawning and shivering.

Sirius watched the silky pitch sky, as the starry specks throbbed gently, happy to glitter a million miles from anything. He wished he could be happy being so alone.

Eventually it lightened, to the navy blue of the darkest lake, and then lounging violet at the horizon out over the water. He watched as purple stained the lake like paint, and as the sky filtered to pink and golden. He watched as fiery drops of sunlight chattered across the rippling blue skin of the water, feeling the splashes of molten light on his skin.

It would be a beautiful day, he thought, despite the stormy night he'd had. He knew the sun would eagerly stretch its way across the azure haze, even as his mind conjured tornados and hail.

Feathery fragments of his nightmare floated deftly about the corners of his mind like cobwebs hunting for a spider. No matter how hard he shook his head, the dust never unsettled itself.

Just yesterday he had been happy. Truly happy. Glad to help his friend when in need, glad to be the hero of Gryffindor again. Glad to know that this was one thing his father couldn't take from him.

But he had. Oh, yes, he had.


A/N: Hey everybody. First of all, sorry I haven't been replying to reviews, but all my teachers went crazy on the homework this week, and I barely had time to write a chapter. Secondly, I hate to tell you this, but I'm heading out on a trip tonight, and I'm going to be without a computer for a couple of weeks. So, no updates for a while. But please, review this chapter and tell me what you thought, because I'll answer everything when I get back. And also when I get back, the one chapter a day will continue. Anyways, back in two weeks!