Bigger boys and hurt sweethearts
The first thing Sirius noticed was the pain.
A dull, throbbing ache spread from his shoulder down to his wrist, and his back—oh, his back—felt like it had been set on fire and doused in salt. Every inch of his body screamed in protest as he tried to open his eyes. The world around him was blurry, spinning slightly before coming into focus. The cold, dim light of the early morning filtered through the cracked windows of the Shrieking Shack.
The floor beneath him was hard, unforgiving, and damp with the remnants of the night. He was lying in a heap of discarded wood, remnants of the chaos from the night before, but the scent of fresh blood—his own—still clung to the air.
Sirius’s chest tightened with the realization. He was alive, barely, but he had no idea where Remus was.
“Remus?” he croaked, his voice weak, hoarse. The word sounded strange even in his own ears. It was the first thing he could think of, and yet, there was a nagging uncertainty in the back of his mind. Remus… Remus had been a werewolf. Remus had attacked him.
Sirius shut his eyes and tried to recall the events of the night before, but the more he thought about it, the worse the memory seemed to get. Snape had been there, and he had pushed him out of the way, but…
Then, the pain came crashing back to him. The gash across his back, the brutal grip of Remus’s teeth on his shoulder… It felt like a nightmare.
But no. This wasn’t a dream.
“Merlin…” Sirius breathed, his throat dry and tight. He forced himself to move, but his body protested every shift. The moment he tried to sit up, his vision blurred again, and he let out a strangled grunt of pain. His hands shook as he braced himself, trying to keep from collapsing back onto the floor.
Everything hurt. Every breath was an effort. The world felt too heavy. His body was far too weak, and the pain was overwhelming. But he had to get up. He had to find Remus. He needed to explain.
He looked around the room desperately, his gaze shifting from the wreckage to the door. The thought struck him like a bolt of lightning. He hadn’t locked the door after he’d entered the shack last night.
“Oh, no…” Sirius gasped, his stomach turning.
The door. If Remus had gotten out of control… if he had escaped—
Before he could finish the thought, the pain in his back flared, sharper than before, and he gasped, clutching his side. His breath came in shallow bursts, his chest tight with panic. He wasn’t going anywhere like this.
Just breathe. Just… breathe.
He gritted his teeth, trying to steady himself, but his limbs felt like lead. Every movement was a struggle. He tried to push himself up again, this time forcing one shaky foot to the ground. His knees buckled beneath him, and his body collapsed sideways.
He didn’t know how long he lay there, but when his senses started to clear again, the weight of his situation hit him like a ton of bricks.
Where was Remus?
Sirius’s heart twisted at the thought. He’d pushed Snape out of the way. He’d taken the blow. He’d tried to stop Remus—tried to protect him from hurting someone. But where was Remus now?
The shack was silent.
Sirius had no idea what he expected. Maybe he thought Remus would be here, sitting in a corner, torn up with guilt. Or maybe, just maybe, he thought he’d wake up to find his best friend standing over him, offering an apology. That wasn’t Remus, though. Not really.
He had no idea if the werewolf had even been able to remember what had happened—or if the creature inside him had taken over completely.
Sirius swallowed thickly. “I never meant for any of this…” he whispered to himself, voice cracking. He closed his eyes again, too exhausted to continue.
A sob caught in his throat, but he swallowed it quickly. He wasn’t going to cry. Not now.
“I’m sorry, Remus,” Sirius whispered, the words heavy with regret. “I should’ve… I shouldn’t have…”
But the apology was all he could offer. He couldn’t change what had happened, not now.
His chest tightened again. The ache wasn’t just in his body. It was in his heart, too. The realization of what he had done—what he had caused—gnawed at him. Remus didn’t deserve this.
But it was too late now. Too late to undo it.
With great effort, Sirius managed to roll over, his body protesting every inch of the movement. His back screamed in agony as he shifted, his fingers barely able to grasp the splintered floorboards. His body was too weak to keep fighting against the pain. His vision swam again, but he couldn’t pass out again. He had to find Remus.
“No…” he muttered. “I have to find him… I have to make sure he’s okay.”
But before he could even attempt to stand again, his body gave out. His head spun, and he could feel his strength draining rapidly. The pain was too much.
Sirius Black, proud and defiant as ever, collapsed back onto the floor, darkness creeping in at the edges of his vision.
He hadn’t realized how badly the world could hurt until now.
And in that moment, he wondered if he would ever see Remus again.