AN: sorry, everyone. I put this story aside for about two months...not the best decision. I don't have much else to say so...enjoy, I guess? And sorry. The chapters are kinda always short and bad. I kinda failed at this whole fanfiction thing...but thank you all so much for the reviews and for putting the story on alert.

Disclaimer: don't own HP. Trust me on this one.

Trigger warnings: anxiety attacks (I guess), pain, mentioned child abuse...yeah.

"I'll meet you there," Remus called over his shoulder. His bones were grating together, stiffening his joints and making his teeth grit together in an effort to relieve the pain.

The hissing anxiety that had flooded his aching tendons only grew sharper as the stress of the full moon drew ever closer. Weighing in the back of his mind lay a name, filling his chest with a pressing worry. Sirius.

By the time he reached Madam Pomfrey Remus was finding it hard to breathe. She guided him out the castle's doors, the chilly wind forcing his muscles to tense. Remus dropped his head, neck stretching forwards, and he squeezed his lips tightly, trying to hold in a wolflike pant. Pain blossomed in his fingers, only spurring his anxiety—he could transform here, not until he was locked away like he ought to be—

"I can go from here," Remus said, tone edged with roughness. "Th-thank you."

"Not at all, dear. I'll be here in the morning—and the best of luck to you, Remus."

He ducked into the tunnel, falling to his knees, letting a growl escape his jaws where no one could hear him. His fingers dug into the hard dirt like claws, pebbles digging into his palms.

"Sirius," Remus sobbed aloud, word a raspy, dry breath, no tears blurring his vision yet agony spread through his chest as he scrambled desperately forwards.

When he collapsed onto the hardwood floor all fight left him; he brought his fingers up to his lips, wetness oozing from the raw skin. The sweet scent of fresh blood seeped into his mouth and he felt his skin split at the seams, bones cracking into shards of what he once had been, and Remus screamed.

It had twisted viciously into an echoing, tortured howl before it was swallowed by the sky's empty wails.

oOo

Guilt.

Soft light brown strands, spilling over pale lips.

A scar traced down the pale cheek.

A wisp of innocence, ravaged by the darkness that had consumed Sirius himself.

His hands felt tainted, as though blood spilled over the arches of his knuckles.

Sirius lowered his head. His lips grazed Remus' hand.

Get away, get away. You'll only hurt him more.

He wished he could heal the wounds he had traced onto the gentle, giving skin.

"Sirius?"

His blood wasn't his own; it glistened as dark as his family's.

It belonged to them. For nothing could be Sirius'; all he had was a hollow shell of a person, clutching a fallen angel as though he would take away his demons.

"Sirius, what are you doing?"

"Remus." His voice was empty, his skin so hot. Burning as if it held the inferno itself. He wondered if he was still alive.

I can't do this.

"He's going to be okay," James said, but his voice was cautious, measured. The unfamiliarity made Sirius' heart jump, beat a little faster. He didn't see the point of having it anymore if all it did was pound in his throat as if anticipating the death Sirius would bring about it.

"I hurt him." He suddenly felt almost like crying.

A hand fell on his shoulder. Sirius cringed away; James pulled back. "He does this every month, Padfoot. C'mon, mate, it's not your fault." His voice held the whisper of a plea.

I don't need pity. Breaths slid past Sirius' lips, heavy and scorching. He tried to make them small, nonexistent. His lungs ached.

Remus' eyes fluttered, and Sirius tore his hands away from the fingers that were sleepily curling around his wrist. He was suddenly so afraid; I never wanted to hurt him! I can't—I can't touch him. I mustn't!

He was deaf to the calls that followed him out the door and up the stairs. Sirius was running, tripping; his fingers grasped at marble stairs and for a moment all he wanted was to sink into the cold floor, let it envelop his heat and render him blissfully unaware.

But he pulled himself up with the banister, cursed his trembling body, his teeth digging into his lip; the pain was a reprimand, a relief.

He stopped only when he saw that someone else was sitting primly on his bed, her red hair tossed over her shoulder and her eyebrows raised in a way so similar to Remus' that the hollow shell he stared out of gave a painful ache.

"Get off my bed, Evans. I don't give free shags."

She stands up, says "I'm not asking for a shag, Sirius. I want to talk to you."

He eased himself onto his bedcovers. "I'd rather not." His voice was slipping into clipped tones of aristocracy; he was losing control. Sirius squeezed his eyes shut.

"What's going on?" Lily said. The murmur of comfort made him shiver; he felt made of glass.

"I don't...I don't know," he muttered. "I don't know what the point is anymore." He was trapped in his own mind, claustrophobia closing around him like the walls of the closet his parents had once thrown him into.

"What's the letter?" Sirius croaked. His eyes had fixed on a burnt scrap of paper clutched in Lily's hand—anything to distract himself from his own thoughts.

"My sister's letter."

"You don't like her?" It was barely a question.

"It's complicated."

Then: "Your parents hurt you?"

"It's complicated." He gave her a small grin. Unsure if it was fake.

Her returning smirk eased some of the tension in his chest. Sirius clutched at the collar of his shirt, fingers sliding the buttons loose. His head dropped in a ragged pant; trying to breathe. Fingers fluttering up to press at his throat, his heartbeat shivering beneath them, he closed his eyes.

I hurt him I hurt him I hurt him.

"Could you go?" Weak, pleading words.

Lily stood up, walked out of the dormitory. Sirius was left alone. All the had was the guilt settling in him, looming into emptiness.

AN: here I am again... Review, please! I love all you and thanks for keeping this story alive :) and sorry.