Chapter 2:

Sirius was woken the next morning by a shaft of light streaming through a chink in the curtains. Groaning, he sat up, wiping sleep from his eyes. Brushing a stray lock of hair from his face, he glared halfheartedly at the sunlight and sighed. "Another day…" Pushing back the blanket, Sirius smoothed out his clothes and left his dark sanctuary and made his way downstairs.

The sounds and smells of breakfast drifted from the kitchen accompanied by the clinking of plates and cutlery. Sirius sat down at the table and flipped through the pages of the Daily Prophet. It was all the same stuff really. The usual article about Harry was as absurdly wrong as ever. Obviously the new reporter, employed in the place of Rita Skeeter while she was "missing", was just as bad as their predecessor.  Sirius read the article, merely raising one eyebrow at the pure ridiculousness of what they were accusing Harry of this time, and pushed the paper aside. He could not go to Harry himself. Hogwarts was being watched too closely after the events of the Triwizard tournament. The grounds were crawling with ministry officials. It would be suicide. Dwelling on thoughts of his godson, and how Harry could need him now and he couldn't even be there, Sirius began to descend once more into self-hatred. But he was not allowed to dwell there for long.

"Morning Sirius." Remus placed a plate of bacon, eggs and toast in front Sirius and sat down opposite him with his own breakfast. Sirius looked up, startled out of his dark reverie.

"What? Oh, hello Moony." Sirius' eyes drifted over his friend, taking in every detail of the familiar face. Remus' eyes were slightly puffy and bloodshot, despite his now cheerful expression. Had he been crying? Sirius sighed, with more guilt added to his already unbearable load. Remus didn't notice Sirius's concern, as his eyes were downcast as he began eating. Sirius looked down at his own breakfast and began pushing the contents around the plate with his fork. 

"Don't you like it?" Remus asked, half jokingly, after Sirius had spent at least a minute toying with his breakfast.

"Oh, no it's fine." Sirius swallowed a small mouthful and forced a smile. Remus smiled back encouragingly. But Sirius could not stomach another and he pushed his plate away. Remus pushed it right back.

"Come on Padfoot, you've got to eat something. You didn't even have any lunch yesterday."

"Sorry, I'm not hungry."  Sirius pushed back his chair and got to his feet. Remus watched him go. He knew it was useless to argue.

"I'll leave some out for you in case you want some." But Sirius made no sign that he had heard.

Sirius flopped down in an armchair by the fire and picked up a book from beside it. He immersed himself in the book for a good ten minutes when he was once more interrupted.

"Padfoot, I've got to go to work now. Will you be okay?" Sirius looked up from the chair. Remus was startled by the look he saw in those dark eyes. There was no familiar spark of mischief or excitement. He had been sure that spark had been almost visible just a year ago, after his escape from Hogwarts. But now his eyes were dull and sunken. They looked almost…dead. It was like looking at a corpse. But that frightening, empty glance lasted only a moment before Sirius cast his gaze back to the pages in his lap.

"If – if you need anything…you will call me, right?" Sirius nodded, but this time he did not look up.

Remus sighed and, knowing there was no more to be said, left.

Outside, Remus paused and looked back. Try as he might, he could not shake the image of that haunting gaze from his mind. That look, the one he had only seen one other time, the first and only time he'd visited Sirius in Azkaban. It was so…hollow. The look of a man who can see nothing good to come, and can find no way out. Remus just prayed that Sirius lived to see the end of today, and that he knew that he wasn't completely alone. That he had at least one friend who cared for him, and how much it hurt to see him like he was.

                                                                        ******

Sirius waited until he was sure Remus had left before he put down his book and left the comfort of the chair. He had not missed Remus's brief look of fear and possibly even revulsion when their eyes had met. And that look had hurt. He climbed the stairs to the bathroom and, for the first time since coming to Moony's home, really looked at his reflection. Surely he'd gone almost back to normal appearance-wise by now. Surely his appearance was almost the same as it had once been. He knew he wasn't as emaciated as he had been and his hair was cut neatly to just above shoulder-length and was no longer matted. Slowly, he raised his eyes to the mirror…

"That…that's me?"

His voice caught in his throat. The face that he saw was terribly pale. Deep lines were etched on a face that looked much too old to belong to him. His black shirt hung loosely from his shoulders, hiding his terribly thin body and the belt on his jeans was in the last hole, as tight as it would go. There were even a few strands of grey in his hair. But it was his eyes that shocked him most. Ringed by dark shadows, they were dull and lifeless. He was a thirty-five year old man in a body that had aged too fast, with a mind that hadn't aged fast enough to catch up.

Tearing his gaze from the horrible reflection, Sirius went into his room and grabbed one of the framed photographs on the shelf. In this picture he saw what he had once been. A young man in his early twenties grinned at the camera. An unruly black fringe hung in his smiling face. His eyes were not empty or sunken but full of life. Hooded by dark lashes that he remembered being teased about by the other boys at Hogwarts, the corners were crinkled in a broad grin, and though they appeared almost black, they shone with a mischievous spark. This was how old he had been when they took him away.

An icy band tightened around his heart and he felt his eyes burn as he looked at the other person in the picture. Remus, with an arm about his shoulders, was grinning just as broadly. Sirius knew he had hurt Remus more than he'd ever hurt any other friend. Here was a man who cared for him like a brother, who had gone through so much alone because of him, yet he still had time and energy enough to deal with his crap and be there when Sirius needed him most, risking everything in the process. And Sirius had been too selfish and involved in his own dark problems to see it until now.

He slumped down onto the bed and gazed sorrowfully at the picture in his hands, missing and longing for what he had once known and would never know again. All because of him.

Sirius sighed and shook his head, absentmindedly rubbing his scarred wrist. It didn't matter how much he wished he could go back, how much he wanted things to be the same between him and Remus. Too many years had passed, and too much had changed. Things could never even come close to what they once were.

How long he sat there, lost in memories and dreams of what was and might have been, Sirius could not say. But soon all the guilt and grief and longing clamoring inside his brain became too much. Still fingering the scars that marred his wrist, Sirius got to his feet. Slowly, almost trancelike, he descended the stairs. The breakfast leftovers were on the bench in the kitchen, just as Remus had said. But Sirius ignored them. A knife lay beside the sink, obviously left out after Remus had washed up. Sirius had known it was there, he'd seen it that morning. He took it and held it up, watching the sunlight glint off the blade. Then, slipping the knife into his pocket, he returned to his gloomy sanctuary.

He pulled the dark curtains shut and closed the door. Kneeling on the floor in the center of the room, he took the knife from his pocket. His hand trembled slightly as he raised it to his forearm. 

He did not feel the pain. It was dulled by the thousands upon thousands of thoughts racing through his tortured mind. Guilt, regret, memories, confusion, fear…

Several times he ran the razor sharp edge of the knife along his pale forearm. It was a long while before he regained control enough to stop. He paused suddenly, the knife halfway to his arm. Slowly, he began to emerge from his trance that had lasted a mere hour.  His vision cleared and he saw the damage he'd inflicted upon himself. The knife in his right hand was blood-tipped and his left arm was a mess. Bloody wounds marred his pale skin and a red stain was spreading on the carpet at his knees. Still he did not feel the pain. Then something on the floor nearby caught his eye. It was the picture. The face of Remus Lupin stared up at him from the paper.

The knife slipped from Sirius' fingers and he tore his eyes from the accusing face of his best friend. He knelt in silence for a moment, uncountable emotions building up inside until at last they broke out. Cradling his mutilated arm, Sirius threw back his head and screamed. He screamed until his throat was sore and his voice no more than a rasping whisper. Tears coursed down his face and dripped onto his arm and the floor, mingling with the blood. Minutes dragged on into hours and still he knelt there, cradling his arm and sobbing his apologies. It was late afternoon by the time he was calm again.

Silently, he got to his feet and made his way into the bathroom. He bathed and dressed his wounds as best he could. They would heal in time, leaving no more than white lines in their wake. Then he returned to his room and changed into clean clothes. The bloodstained ones he threw away. He pulled on a sweater to cover the bandages and took the knife downstairs to clean it. By the time this was finished, Sirius was completely exhausted. He felt dizzy and tired and his legs felt as if they were going to collapse. He staggered up the stairs and stepped over the stain on the carpet. He'd cleaned off as much as he could, but the stain remained, a pale red-brown reminder of his pain. There was nothing he could do about it and he didn't much care. Collapsing onto the mattress, Sirius sighed and lay in silence for a moment, too exhausted to feel anything. His eyes drifted closed and he knew no more.

A/N: There's a second chapter? Of course there is. Life really sucks at the moment so there's plenty of depression to go round. Anyway, if you liked it, or even hated it, please donate a review *shakes review tin*.

Disclaimer: You know who owns this stuff. For those who don't, I'll give you a clue. It sure as hell isn't me.