AN: Chapter 22! I hope you enjoy this and, of course, please review. Reviews are honestly my lifeblood.

Disclaimer: I don't own HP.

Trigger warnings for depression, vomiting, child abuse.

Sirius inhaled, exhaled.

Fingers shuddered, fumbling against cold sweat. Palms, placed on bent knees, rubbed raw against rough denim. Reaching up unsteadily, wiping at his lips. Trembling against the cracked gasps that coughed up from heaving lungs.

Inhale, exhale. Stand up. Keep running.

His father's voice rubbed against worn senses. Giving up already? Weak. You deserve this punishment.

"Keep running, love," the voice of His Remus whispered, shape shifting amongst the darkness of the abandoned quidditch field.

Sirius' entire body ached like every piece of him was being set aflame, one by one, muscle by muscle, tendon after tendon going up in flames, every bone flicked like a match. His heart pounded in his throat irregularly, and Sirius was so, so afraid that it would leap out of his throat all on its own.

"Can I stop now, Moony?"

No answer but the stirring of the wind against the school's stadium.

"Sorry," he whispered, knees crashing into each other, chest quaking like every moment of existing caused a tiny earthquake to rattle his insides.

"Sorry," he uttered again when he was back in front of his dorm's bathroom mirror. His eyes raked down his body. He had gotten so thin, bones protruding as though they were ready to break out from the prison of his body. Grotesquely skinny, his hands shaking like they had no idea how to function any more. What was this messed up shadow of a person Sirius saw in the mirror? This couldn't, this couldn't be him.

But it was. Sirius was looking into his own eyes. He was a broken, good-for-nothing Black who was too afraid of his own parents to fight back. What good use was a messed up traitor with nowhere to go?

His gaze fell on the cuts slashing diagonally down his wrist. They were pathetic reminders of everything he couldn't bring himself to complete. And the bruises, the marks down his back, his torso, up his collarbone, ghosting across his face like a slap that carried too many ancient rings, they were simply marks of his weakness. He wanted clean skin, new skin, skin and a mind that hadn't been infected.

But dying was the only thing he was good at.

Sirius went back to bed.

There are some things you cannot hide from your friends-like if you are extremely happy about something; if a family member has died; if you are hurt or sick or maybe immensely angry at them. It is especially hard to hide something from your friends if you share a dormitory and, per say, forgot to cast a silencing charm on your bed. And that is exactly what befouled Sirius Black as he dropped into a deep sleep and awoke, only a half hour later, with a ragged cry. He emerged from his terror drowned in sweat, gasping for every harsh breath he drew, pain striking him in sharp blades whenever he moved. His sight was impaired by bright blotches of silver, dancing with every scrape of his dry lungs as he clutched the sheets below him in panic. He couldn't draw a single breath; it was stuck in his throat, rasping weakly before dying with a final flutter. Agony pulsed in his chest, and suddenly the world felt heavy around him, as if the air was thick with hot was greeted by two more yells, both belonging to his best friends.

"What-?" James yelped, sleepiness still clouding his mind and vision as he jumped up from his bed, knowing who had screamed into the night with such fear and pain. "Sirius!" Both scrambled to him just as he rolled over and threw up, shaking.

Then he lost his mind.

oOo

"Pads, Pads! Padfoot! Sirius!" James learned over the edge of his flinched and then spasmed, coughing wildly admits the mess of tangled sheets, sweat, and vomit. "No, no, no! Moony, he's sick!"

"I'm aware, James!" Remus held out his hand to touch Sirius' burning forehead, but the boy moaned, squirming away from the touch. "I'm sorry...sorry. Please...please..." Remus couldn't tell whether it was sweat or tears on his face. "Shh, Sirius, It's okay. No one's going to hurt you here...shh. James, he's going to throw up again. Help me get him to the bathroom." Remus anxiously pulled Sirius out of bed with James' help and they half-carried, half-dragged him to the toilet, where he retched again. Not that he had much to throw up, Remus noted sourly. He hasn't eaten barely anything since he came back. Slumped back against the cold wall, still trembling, wisps of hair stuck to his face, mouth left slightly open, grey eyes throwing up once more, Sirius was reduced to heaving dryly, shaking, his shirt sticking to his back as if it were just another layer of skin. "He's got a fever," Remus muttered. "We should take him to Madam Pomfrey."

"Would he want us to? His secret would be out if she saw the state he's in. He has scars, doesn't he?"

The werewolf shrugged hesitantly. "Maybe he's getting better...he stopped throwing up." As much as he said it, Remus knew it was blind hope.

"He literally can't."James let out a gust of breath and rubbed at his eyes."Y'know, I'm...I'm right here," Sirius' voice slurred. He was pushing himself clumsily away from the toilet, wiping his face and blinking his eyes furiously like they couldn't keep open on their own.

"Dude, you're covered in sweat," James said, but his tone was softer than usual. It was always softer with Sirius nowadays; pleading, protective. It had become another one of their unspoken rules. Rule number one: No ratting each other out. Rule number two: Take care of Remus during the full moon. And now, rule number three: Protect reached for Sirius, yanking up his shirt. Dazed with a delayed reaction, Sirius stared wide-eyed at thin air for a moment before scrambling backwards, pushing himself into the wall and huddling down, arms wrapped around himself, eyes flashing in panic. He had covered himself up, but not before his friends glimpsed what was carved into his back. "Sirius, turn around!" James' voice grew louder with the increasing drew deeper into himself, a mixture of a howl and a twisted, indiscernible plead escaping his mouth.

"Sirius, shh, it's okay. You're not with your family. You're not going to be hurt. You can trust us. Shh," Remus soothed, placing his hands on Sirius' shoulders and attempting to ignore his friend's violent flinch.

"Pads, you're not at your house. You're in Hogwarts, 'kay? You're home," added the bespectacled boy beside them, meeting Sirius' eyes. Remus felt a surge of affection well out of his chest, soften the despair that had lodged itself in his heart. Merlin, he loved his friends.

"I won't let anything happen to you," he told Sirius, and every word stung in his throat. "You will never go back there if I can help it." And Merlin, he loathed Sirius' parents-no, they didn't have the right to be called that anymore. His abusers. "I won't let anyone hurt you, Sirius. Never again."

Lifting his head, Sirius moved into Remus' embrace slowly, wincing as his friend's arm hit his open wound. The Werewolf cast a long glance at the words carved in Sirius' back as he held him, trying to contain the rage that flooded his senses, reigning in the furious wolf that would tear the Blacks to pieces in an instant if given the chance. "Toujours Pur. Always pure," he muttered furiously. Sirius cowered deeper into Remus' arms as though he were trying to make himself disappear in the embrace and James' brow furrowed angrily. "They dug into his flesh, Remus! They carved words into his back!" Shaking his head in disgust and anger at the image that James had conjured in his mind, Remus stood up, pulling Sirius up with him. "Come on, we've got to lay him back down."

"I'll get his sheets."

"Thanks." Realizing that Sirius was not going to make it to his bed if he had the next hundred years to drag himself, Remus bent down and, muscles straining at the exertion, picked the boy up bridal style. He was concerningly light.

Sirius' head lolled against Remus' shoulder, seeming once again asleep. Remus set him down as gently as he could and brushed the hair away from the other's two friends began to take turns watching him, neither wanting to leave him alone, but both tortured by his condition. They were frightened for him, wrathful at his parents, felt the same pain Sirius felt when he threw up and coughed from deep in his ragged lungs. By the end, Sirius was a delirious, feverish mess, throwing up nothing but bile, leaving all of them exhausted and Sirius himself pleading brokenly for release to thin air.

Hey look, I finally learned how to use line breaks! But seriously, I just wanted to drop in a note that this is awful writing and this is an awful story and mental illness shouldn't be dramatized like this. I don't even know why I'm doing this. Anyways, please review for my pitiful ass.

- Nova