AN: I don't own Harry Potter.

Whispers in the dark

None of them can sleep. They're too busy tossing and turning and speaking to each other on and off, voices hushed as if they're afraid of waking the nonexistent fourth person in the room.

"But we just saw him… what could have happened?"

"I just thought he overslept again."

"Do you think he's okay?"

"He must be. I mean, he's Sirius, he's always okay."

"Or maybe that's just what he wants us to think."

There's a pause.

"What do you mean, Remus?"

He rolls over. None of them have their curtains closed, and he can see his friends' worried and confused expressions in the moonlight. He tries not to see the bed beside him, which is conspicuously empty.

"We know his parents aren't nice to him, but he goes home to them every summer. How can he be okay?"

His friends fall silent. They aren't naïve, but they haven't experienced what he has experienced, what he suspects more and more that Sirius also experiences. He's glad for that.

"But he's always just… Sirius," says Peter. "If things weren't okay, he'd tell us, wouldn't he?"

"Just like I told you about my—problems—right?"

James protests immediately: "That's different. You didn't know us back then. But now we're- we're the Marauders! We can tell each other anything!"

"Anything," Peter echoes firmly, and none of them speak again until the sun begins to rise.

The next night, he sneaks out once he's sure the others are asleep. He takes James's invisibility cloak with him. He knows James won't mind, or he'll at least get over it quickly, and that's only if he finds out.

They'd heard Sirius had arrived at school earlier that day, but he went straight to the infirmary, and Madam Pomfrey insisted he didn't want visitors. That hadn't stopped them from loitering outside the hospital wing doors. It wasn't until almost curfew and McGonagall threatening them detention with Filch that they reluctantly returned to their dormitory.

Now, he opens and closes the infirmary doors with painstaking carefulness. Once inside, it takes him only a moment to locate Sirius, in a bed at the far side of the room, the curtain closed for privacy. He peers around the screen. The form on the bed is still, facing away from him, but he is certain that Sirius isn't sleeping. He lets the invisibility cloak fall to the floor.

"Sirius?"

"Go away."

"Sirius, it's me, Remus."

"I know. Go away."

The rejection stings. "All three of us wanted to come earlier, but Madam Pomfrey said you didn't want visitors."

"Yeah, I don't, so what are you doing here? I thought you were the smart one."

There's silence, and Remus is glad that Sirius can't see the reel of emotions that plays on his face.

"Please don't talk to me like that," he says at last, his voice sounding small and vulnerable to his own ears.

Sirius sighs and finally rolls over. Remus slaps a hand over his mouth before he can gasp, but of course, Sirius still notices his reaction.

"Yeah," says Sirius. "That's why I didn't want to see you."

A mottled pattern of bruises covers Sirius's face, and a portion of his lips is raw and inflamed looking, like the flesh was split and newly put back together again. It had to be bad if even magic couldn't erase its traces overnight.

"What happened?" Remus asks, and immediately feels foolish.

"I fell." He flinches at the cold sarcasm, and Sirius relents. "My parents happened. 'Disgrace to the family, tainting the bloodline, traitor,' blah blah blah. Old news."

"Is that why you weren't on the train?" whispers Remus.

"Yeah." The corner of Sirius's mouth quirks up. "They didn't think Dumbledore'd send someone to check on me when I didn't arrive, but then McGonagall herself showed up at our door."

"And what did they tell her?"

"That I'd gotten into a fight and run off and oh, well, we were just about to send you an owl, what a coincidence!" Sirius flashes a humourless grin, and Remus's frown deepens.

"And you didn't tell her the truth?"

"I may not be the darling Slytherin they want, but I do have some self-preservation, Remus."

He takes a moment to think about this. "Was this the first time that"—he gestures vaguely—"you know…."

"First time they got caught."

He nods understandingly. He doesn't ask why Sirius didn't tell them, or how they could have not found out before now. He knows why: It's the shame. It's the self-hatred, the feeling of weakness. It's the desperate need to pretend things are all right, like maybe if you act normal, your other life will just disappear. It's the sense that these things should only be spoken of as whispers in the dark, if they are spoken of at all.

Finally, he says, "Chocolate?" and removes a half bar from his trousers pocket.

Sirius chuckles, sounding a bit more like his usual self. "You think this stuff is a miracle cure, don't you?" he says, but he takes the offered sweet and breaks off a generous chunk.

They eat in silence for a while, and then Remus speaks again: "Did you know chocolate is poisonous to dogs?"

Sirius gives him a sly look. "Is that your way of confessing to trying to poison me?" he teases.

"No!" he exclaims immediately, horrified despite the mischievous expression on Sirius's face. That interpretation of his words never occurred to him. "Of course not! I- I mean…"

He lapses into uncomfortable silence, and Sirius takes pity on him. "What do you mean, Remus?" he asks softly.

Remus swallows. His throat is suddenly dry. "Chocolate is poisonous to dogs, so sometimes" —he stops to swallow again— "sometimes I think if I eat enough of it… it will kill the wolf inside me." He can't look Sirius in the eye as he makes this confession, so he looks at the floor instead.

It feels like an eternity passes before Sirius whispers, "I don't want to kill the wolf inside you."

"No?" Remus questions, glancing sideways at him.

"The wolf has been with you for so long… I mean, it's helped you become you. And… I like you who you are. I like you."

And then, somehow, he is sitting on the hospital bed and Sirius's arms are wrapping around him and their lips are touching.

Sirius pulls away first, wincing.

"What is it? Did I hurt you?" Remus asks, wondering if he's really that bad of a kisser. He's never done it before, so it's possible.

Sirius shakes his head. "I had a broken rib," he explains. "It's still sore is all."

"What did they use?" Remus whispers, fingers lightly tracing the dark spots on Sirius's face.

"A blasting hex, and… the Cruciatus."

He pulls back, heart suddenly racing and the hairs on the back of his neck standing up. "That's illegal!"

Sirius must see something dangerous flare in his eyes, because he says, "Whoa there, wolfie." But his voice is fond, and the name doesn't sound like an insult coming from his lips. "I'm not your keeper, but I really don't think you should go off and kill my parents. That would definitely get you Kissed."

Then Sirius takes his hands, rubbing the backs of them with his thumbs. He takes a few deep breaths and the deep, instinctive rage that washed over him starts to recede. They sit quietly again, each lost in their own thoughts.

"How can I help you?" he finally asks.

Sirius gives him a big, trademark, Sirius Black grin, the one he gives Lily when he's trying to persuade her of James's merits, or when he's trying to convince Peter to do the dirty work of a prank, or when he's flirting incorrigibly with girls everyone knows he has no intention of really going out with. It's an infectious grin, and Remus can't help but smile back.

"Well," says Sirius, leaning in again, "another kiss would be nice."

"That can be arranged," murmurs Remus, lips already half-glued to Sirius's as he speaks.

Perhaps later, he will try to help Sirius in more practical ways. Perhaps he can persuade Sirius to talk to the headmaster, or to talk to James and get the Potters on his side. Perhaps he can get Sirius to live with him next summer, as not ideal and uncomfortable as his own home can be.

But those conversations can wait. There will be plenty of time for whispers in the dark.