3

He's twelve and it's been months of Sirius keeping him company every full moon when he wakes up in the infirmary one morning and there's no one – the chair Sirius would usually use is pushed up next to the bed and there's some chocolate frogs and pumpkin pasties and a note. Remus is tired and his skin is crawling, but he's been much worse, so he grits his teeth and reaches over to take the note.

Potions! Will take notes if you eat ALL the chocolate! It says in Sirius's unruly scrawl – it's signed with a little star, too, and Remus thinks it's beyond adorable but then squashes the thought. There is nothing about Sirius Orion Black that should be qualified as adorable.

Madam Pomfrey checks up on him and he's feeling kind of okay – stuffed with chocolate and he's pretty sure he'll never get over the feeling of his spine expanding grossly but he's been much worse – and he convinces her to let him go after she's double-checked his injuries. All that's left is a really deep-set tenseness in his whole body and a tremendous headache.

It's already past noon now, as he makes his way to the tower – he tries not to make eye-contact with anyone or look generally too out of it as to not raise suspicion and he wants to thank any muggle gods up there when he reaches the dorm without too much of a fuss.

He falls face-first into his bed and just kind of lies there for a moment, and he hopes that if he just lies there long enough he will sink down into the mattress and it will encase him and heal him and… maybe he's had too much chocolate.

There's a stumble in the bathroom and then, "you're back early. Take off your clothes," which are words he never imagined he'd ever hear because he's not that handsome really and who would ever want to see him naked?

Sirius, apparently.

He can just muster up the strength to turn his head to face Sirius and then glare in what he hopes is the most withering glare he has ever glared. Sirius seems unimpressed – his hair is nicely combed for once, and he's already taken off his Gryffindor tie, his white shirt lose and sleeves pushed up over his tan elbows. He's rolling his eyes, hands set on his hips, and Remus thinks of how it's not fair at all, how composed Sirius can be, when he himself is falling apart at the seams.

"Not like that," Sirius reprimands, "I told Slughorn I took a bludger to the side and my whole body was hurtin'," Sirius manhandles Remus into a sitting position and Remus feels like a sack of potatoes and refuses co-operation – Sirius is grunting and pulling at him and eventually gets him standing. Their eyes meet, and Sirius says very solemnly, "he made me stay after class and made me brew this all on my own so the least you could do is try it you big baby moon man."

Remus wants to throw a tantrum – he has just had a horrible night and if Sirius could just respect that and not roughhouse him, that would be great.

Except Sirius does not appear to be in a very compassionate mood, as he instead forcibly moves Remus to the bathroom.

The water is neon green.

Remus says so.

"Why is the water green?" he says pointedly.

Sirius shrugs, helping Remus sit down on the toilet-seat so that he can feel the temperature of the water. He doesn't answer, which isn't very comforting, and then thinking about how unfocused Sirius usually is while brewing potions isn't helping much either and he really wants to not take a bath in this mysterious green concoction but Sirius is looking at him with this very unreadable look and sighs very deeply as if he's been dealing with nothing but idiots his whole life but he's finally met the one, the only, ultimate idiot. From the way he's looking at him, it's Remus.

"I willingly spent two extra hours in potions and you're bitching about the colour?" Sirius says this very stingily and his hands are on his hips again – kind of like an exasperated mother, though Remus figures it best not to point this out.

Sirius helps him take off his shirt and it's all remarkably gentle, the way Sirius tries not to strain him. He leaves him alone after that and Remus undresses himself very slowly – it's not that he's hurting so much as that he's just never enjoyed seeing his own naked skin.

As a child his family didn't have enough money to afford extensive medical care and expensive potions and monthly healers tending for him, so a lot of the damage he did to his own skin had left ample scarring from wounds that had not properly healed. It is hideous to look at and a constant reminder of what he was and why he would never be normal.

He tries to ignore the uncomfortable feeling in his stomach instead of lingering upon it.

To his surprise the water feels like magic and as he soaks his body it's like his whole entire life is mellowing out, softening around the edges and not so fragile as they once were – and every stroke against his own skin feels like redemption as the tension drains from him.

He's not sure how long he stays there in the tub but he feels pretty boneless by the end of it and that feels infinitely better than having all the bones torturing him.

Sirius pops his head around the door when he hears Remus bustling about, theatrically shunning his eyes with one hand as he gives Remus a set of clean pyjamas. Upon unfolding them Remus notices immediately that these are not his own – they are in a beautifully red colour and incredibly soft to the touch, smooth like silk.

"Sirius…" he starts, a little breathless because his fingertips are aching to feel the fabric again, it's better than petting kittens.

"I'm a spoiled rich kid with a too big allowance. Besides, Cissy said they're the best and apparently there's Phoenix feather in there somewhere. So let's see this as an early birthday present and never talk about it again," he waves his free hand in front of his face as if merely whisking the matter away like that – it's stupid, Remus is sure, because not only has the raven gone to the trouble of buying him pyjamas, he's also asked his cousin for her opinion upon the matter which is just odd.

"It was my birthday two months ago," Remus says – because he doesn't have anything else to say, and he really wants to resist but then he's already sliding his arm into the sleeve.

"So I'm real early for next year," Sirius does the hand thing again and Remus would be annoyed except that his whole body feels like it's encased in warm fluff, "Cissy says the fabric is great for sensitive skins."

And it is, Remus thinks, because there's welts on his back that have healed really nastily which makes the skin there really sensitive to the touch but this pyjama is cool like water and not prickly or annoying but soothing and warm at the same time.

"So," Sirius peeks through his fingers carefully, just as Remus finishes pulling up his pants, "are you ready to tell me a horror story?"

They move back into the dorm, where Remus thankfully flops down onto his bed – crawling under his blankets and having a good mind of never coming out again. He hides his head under a pillow and feels the bed dip where Sirius is getting comfy by his feet – it's noon but it feels like they're getting ready for bed.

"Where are James and Pete?" Remus murmurs into his pillow – Sirius answers by flinging himself rather ungracefully down next to the brunette.

He tugs at the pillow Remus is hiding in, smirking broad and proud.

"I told them Evans and McKinnon are having a fight in the courtyard," his canines glitter, "you know how they get."

Remus doesn't want to giggle but he does anyway, and Sirius is grinning at him so he just kind of gives into the feeling, "I was catching fireflies," is what he says.

"Fireflies huh?" is all Sirius answers.

"I used to really like them too, you know. And it had been a real sunny day, warm and humid and those are the best nights for hunting fireflies, aren't they?" Remus thinks maybe Sirius' eyes have fireflies in them, too, "And it's kind of ironic because my mom called me back into the house five minutes earlier but I just wanted to spend some more time with them, and when I think about it now, it's so silly, if only I'd listened…"

Sirius is listening to his story with wide eyes, his legs up in the air swinging like the seven-year-old he still is – he's curling his hair in his fingers and as Remus pauses he pouts slightly.

"I'm sorry you will forever link this small action of rebellion to such traumatic events," he says very solemnly, making Remus grin.

"I'm more sorry about the fireflies," Remus answers dryly, and then they're both smiling so broad their cheeks hurt.

AN: small update because I wanted to update so I figured why not?! If you read it and liked it, please leave a review!