Consumption

The phone rang.

And rang.

And rang.

Sirius stuffed his face into the pillow, letting the phone buzz until whoever was calling finally gave up. He felt warm and cold at the same time. Sweat beading on his forehead as he shivered under the blankets.

The blinds were shut, making it hard to determine if it was still nighttime, but he didn’t care anyways. His body was sore, pulling a wince out of him when he went to pull the blankets back up to his chin.

He knew Dumbledore would be mad, but his muddled brain really couldn’t find himself to care. Which is why, after a couple minutes of contemplating life and staring at the wall, his eyelids started to get heavy, and he finally let himself fall back to sleep.

“Potter!” Dumbledore shouted, briskly walking over to where James stood, photographing their newest crime scene. “Where’s Black?”

James looked around, sort of shocked to not see Sirius there yet. Although his brother did live quite the ways out of town, wanting to avoid all the noise of the city, he usually got to scenes quite fast. James always lectured him about his constant speeding, reminding him how dangerous it was and how one day-

“Potter!”

“Oh uh!” James looked at his watch. “I’m not quite sure, he didn’t call or text me, maybe he’s stuck in traffic.”

“Dumbledore, James.” Remus greeted as he walked up to the two. “Where’s Sirius, I have some things I would like to discuss.”

“We don’t know. He should’ve been here fifteen minutes ago.” Dumbledore sighed in annoyance.

“I can try calling him.” Remus pulled out his phone, trying Sirius’ cell twice before giving up and turning to James. “Can you send me his address?”

“Sure, he leaves a key under the pot with the dead flower.”

The house was dark, curtains drawn and no light seen peeking out from behind them. The grass was well taken care of, not completely overgrown, but also allowing native species to grow and thrive. The small porch had two wooden lawn chairs and a couple flowerpots, the majority of them dead.

Remus brought his knuckles up to the door, giving it a quick knock. A dog started barking from somewhere in the house, but no one came to answer the door. He gently picked up the flowerpot, finding the key just like James had said.

The second the key turned the lock, and the door opened, a giant shaggy black dog came bounding towards Remus, barking at him insistently.

“Shhh shh it’s okay.” Remus whispered to the dog, holding out his hand for it to sniff.

After a second of making acquaintances and the dog realizing Remus was in fact not a threat, he made his way deeper into the house, searching for any sign of Sirius.

He pushed open a door that was slightly cracked open, revealing a sleeping Sirius. The doctor stepped into the room, already smelling the feverish heat radiating off of him. The man was curled up into a ball, only half of his body under the sheets. Remus walked closer to the bed, the dog following closely behind. He gently placed a hand on the younger man's forehead, getting a sense for how hot of a fever he had. He was definitely warm, but not concerningly so.

Sirius made a small sound of contempt as he moved closer to hand, finding relief in the colder skin.

“Snuffles,” he spoke, his voice rough and deep. The dog responded to the name, quickly jumping on the bed and giving his owner a sloppy lick to the cheek.

“Sirius,” Remus whispered, trying to gently wake the man up. Sirius slowly opened his eyes, grimacing at the change of light. “Hello, how are you feeling?”

“Hi…” Sirius’ voice was confused, slightly unsure on why his therapist was in his house. “Why are you here?”

“You missed a crime scene; Dumbledore was quite upset but James was busy, so I came to ensure that you were alive.”

“Yeah, I wish I wasn’t,” Sirius coughed into his elbow, turning his face away from the doctor. “My head hurts.”

Remus moved to pet the dog who was now licking at his hand. “I brought you food, it’s in the car. I’ll be right back.”

As he left, Sirius worked on slowly easing himself up until he was sitting upright in bed. His head pounded and his body hurt, but he knew he had been laying down for too long and he truly needed something to eat.

The second Remus stepped back into the room, a delicious smell following the bag in his hands, Sirius’ stomach growled. Remus quickly unpacked the two bowls of soup.

“Silkie chicken in a broth.” Remus pulled the lid off of one container, handing it to Sirius along with a spoon. “A black-boned bird prized in China for it’s medicinal values since the 7th century. Wolfberries, ginseng, ginger, red dates, and star anise.”

Sirius stared at the bowl in front of him, unashamedly smiling at the thoughtfulness from the doctor. “You made me chicken soup?”

“Yes. Eat.” Remus picked up his own spoon, allowing them to sit in a comfortable silence as they ate. The second the spoon hit his mouth; Sirius let out a moan at the flavors.

“Your cooking never ceases to amaze me.” Sirius said, stuffing another spoonful into his mouth.

“I’ve only cooked for you twice.”

“And I’ve been amazed both times.”

“Well then,” Remus smiled at the man, “I guess I’ll have to cook for you again.”

A delicious blush spread across Sirius’ face, Remus’ eyes tracking his flustered state. He was truly beautiful, and it was enthralling to see him in this state. Bedhead, rumpled clothes, his dog laying by his side. He was in his natural habitat and Remus found that he liked him more this way than at the crime scenes they frequented together.

Remus inwardly grimaced at the idea. He couldn’t allow himself to get so attached. Although he believed that Sirius could understand him, he had to prepare on the off chance that he couldn’t. He couldn’t risk giving himself to Sirius, explaining what he was and what he did. He would be risking his life, or at least his freedom.

It was a dangerous game, both for Sirius and for him.

“What did Dumbledore say?” Sirius asked, snapping him out of his thoughts. His empty bowl sat on his bedside table, his hands now distractedly carding through Snuffles’ fur.

“He was a little mad.”

“Understatement?” Remus almost laughed at the Deja vu of the words.

“By a mile.” They smiled at each other before Remus continued. “James seemed a bit concerned; he probably would have come to check on you after that scene if I hadn’t gotten to you first.”

“He’s a worrier.” Sirius laughed at the memories of James fretting. “He was the one that convinced me to start seeing you in the first place.”

“What was worrying him?”

“Everything apparently.” Sirius sighed. “He was worried I was still stuck in the head of the shrike. But he’s been begging me to talk to someone since we were teenagers.”

The look on Remus’ face had Sirius feeling like he should continue the story, peel back every layer of his skin and show off his glistening insides to the doctor. And for some reason, he didn’t see this as a problem.

“My parents weren’t great for me…both physically and mentally. I ran away when I was fifteen, went to live with James and his parents.” Sirius looked away from the man, instead focusing on the dog. “But I left behind my little brother. I tried to make him leave with me; I really did. But by that point, he had already gotten mixed around with bad people. He became friends with the kids of our parents' friends, and then it was just one big dinner party of these awful people. You can imagine how that affected me.”

“Because of your empathy?” Remus clarified, less for the fact of not understanding and more so to show that he was listening.

“Yeah. I started to get confused about who I was, about my morals. When we were kids, Regulus–my brother–would help me differentiate these feelings from my actual personality. He would remind me of the type of person I was and how I helped him and others. But near the end, it got pretty bad, so I had to leave.” Sirius took a breath, gathering his thoughts and memories before speaking. “During school, James and I devised these extreme plans of escape. Jumping out of windows, burning down cars, flying over buildings; stuff like that. The reality was a lot less exciting; it was actually kind of disappointing. I just left. I walked out of the door, bag in hand, and never came back.”

“That was it?”

“Essentially. The night before, my parents got mad at me for ruining their dinner party by talking back. They took me up to my father's study and beat me black and blue.” Sirius scoffed at the memory. “They left the door slightly open, I think to see what Regulus would do. But he did nothing, he watched through the crack for a bit before walking away and staying in his room for the rest of the night. I defended him at that dinner. They called him a faggot. Their perfect son, the one that did everything they asked, and they still made fun of him and called him names. I defended him and fought back with our parents, and he didn’t even say goodbye.
I stood in front of his door the next day, asking if he would leave with me; I wanted to give him one last chance before I left for good. He didn’t answer. So, I left. I haven’t seen him since.”

The room was quiet. Sirius refused to let himself cry, it had been years since that day, but it didn’t stop it from hurting just as bad. The betrayal of his own brother was one of the most painful things in the world. Regulus had been so stuck on making sure their parents liked him, that he was the son they always wanted. Sirius didn’t know how to tell him that that wasn’t possible. He could see it in Walburga's eyes, the way they shined with disgust the minute they landed on Regulus, even more when they landed on Sirius. It wasn’t possible to appeal to their twisted senses of a good child.

“Do you want to rebuild that bridge with him?” Remus asked finally, looking at Sirius’ closed off expression.

“I’m not actively searching him out, no.” Sirius muttered, his finger bitten raw. “But if he ever showed up on my porch, I wouldn’t be able to turn him away.”