Chapter 4
Sirius does seem a little bit more alive now that he’s eaten, James thinks as they slowly make their way back to the dorms. Though he didn’t manage to choke down much more than a few spoonfuls of potatoes. Not that James ate much more than that himself. He wasn’t in the mood for feasting. Lily, Mary, and Marlene were all pretty concerned when they saw the state of Sirius, but they were willing to accept the excuse that Sirius was just worried for and pining about his missing werewolf boyfriend. Lily didn’t look like she quite believed it, but she didn’t press the issue any further.
The two boys enter the privacy of their dorm and begin to get ready for bed. Sirius spends so long in the bathroom that James sits himself down by the door, listening to make sure there is the soft thump of footsteps and rush of water turning on and off. Neither boy speaks for a half-hour or so, James because he doesn’t want to put his foot in it, and Sirius because he doesn’t have the energy.
Usually, the first night at Hogwarts is filled with blue-sky pranking ideas, funny stories about the summer, and bits and pieces of gossip about the other students. Tonight, though, with Remus gone and Sirius so under the weather, the two boys get ready for bed immediately and find themselves getting under the covers early.
James crawls into bed, but doesn’t close his curtains or extinguish the lamp. Sirius is sitting cross-legged in his bed across from him in much a similar situation. His lamp is on, his curtains open, and his covers clutched in his hands. The look on his face is distant, scared, lost.
“Sirius?” James asks quietly.
Sirius doesn’t answer, but James can tell he heard.
“Sirius, do you want to talk about it?”
Sirius doesn’t directly answer the question, but he does speak this time.
“I--I don’t want to put the lamp out. Not just yet.”
James shifts forward in his bed a bit. “Why not?”
Sirius shudders a little bit, then squeezes his eyes shut for a second before reopening them.
“I’m afraid that... well, if it’s dark I might... how will I know that...” he takes a second to gather the right words. “I don’t want to turn out the light, because if I can’t see, how will I know I’m here, at Hogwarts, and not back there?”
James’s stomach churns. Hearing those words from anyone would be devastating, but to hear them from Sirius-- the most fearless person he knows-- is unbearable.
James climbs out of bed and slowly goes to sit on the edge of Sirius’s. He approaches slowly, making his movements clear and predictable.
"We don't have to turn out the lights if you don't want." James assures. "But you are at Hogwarts, Sirius. And you'll know without even opening your eyes, because where else does it smell like parchment, Remus's old books, and my Quidditch socks? Where else do the pillows squish like that and the blankets feel that soft? Where else can you hear the hoots of owls and sounds of Remus and I breathing at night?"
"He does snore something awful, doesn't he?" Sirius sniffles with an almost-smile on his lips.
James grins in response, "Exactly. You'll know you're here and you're safe, light or no light."
A sad, defeated expression settles on Sirius's features. "Yeah, of course."
His words are agreeing, but it sounds less like he believes it, and more like he doesn't want to take up any more of James's time.
So James waits. He flops onto his back on Sirius's bed and waits for Sirius to talk. It doesn't matter to James how much time it will take, he's here for Sirius, period. There's nowhere he'd rather be.
Minutes tick by, and James starts to wonder if he could somehow enchant a newt's eye to glow and then squeeze it into the small circular hole above Remus's bed when he feels the mattress shift a bit underneath him.
James props himself up on his elbows and looks over at Sirius, who is still sitting upright in the middle of the bed.
His face is pale, and his eyelids keep fluttering like he's trying to keep them open, but can't. They close for just a second too long, and Sirius starts to tilt to the side before waking abruptly, and sitting straight up in the bed again.
James sits up, "Pads," he says softly, "it's okay to sleep. You're okay. Why don't you lay down, yeah?"
James moves to help Sirius lay back on the pillows, but Sirius knocks his hands out of the way, a look of fright on his face.
"No! I can't. I can't lay down." He says, sounding almost panicked.
James holds his hands up in surrender, showing Sirius he isn't a threat.
Seeing James's response, Sirius's eyes lose their wild glaze. He rubs a hand across his face, hunching forward.
"I--I'm sorry. I didn't mean... Sorry, I'm sorry."
"Hey, no!" James quickly says, wishing he could take Sirius by the arm and reassure him. "You don't have anything to be sorry for. You didn't do anything wrong and I'm not mad. I just... I just want to help."
There is a few seconds pause before Sirius answers, his voice heavy and tired. "You... you don't have to, you know. Help me, that is. You don't have to."
James frowns a bit. "I know I don't have to, but I want to."
There is a wry, cynical expression on Sirius's face that makes James's insides ache.
James waits a few seconds to see if Sirius will say more, but when the silence goes on, he continues, "Whatever happened this summer, you don't have to tell me about it if you're not ready, but you can, you know. I'd listen. I want to."
Sirius opens and closes his mouth a few times, as if trying to push out words out that never quite reached his tongue.
James waits patiently. He isn't going to interrupt, he isn't going to jump in, he's going to wait for however long it takes.
Finally, after several long seconds, Sirius answers in a tiny, whispered voice, “I--I want to tell you, I do. I just... I don’t know how to say it.”
James adjusts himself on the bed so that he is sitting next to Sirius, their shoulders almost brushing. This time, Sirius doesn't flinch or push James away. He just sits there, looking at his hands in his lap.
“Would it be easier if I ask questions?” James says. He keeps his eyes forward, not looking at Sirius, not pressuring him.
Sirius nods a little.
James takes a deep breath, working out where to begin.
“Did something happen over break?” he asks. “Something bad?”
Sirius nods again.
“Are you hurt?”
Another nod.
James’s stomach flutters. “Where?”
Sirius’s opens his mouth but closes it quickly. There is a look of confusion in his eyes.
James’s heart drops.
“Is it… is it more than one place?”
Sirius nods, not looking up from his lap.
James lets out a breath and runs a hand through his hair.
“Okay. Okay. We’ll start with the worst of it, yeah? What hurts the most?”
Sirius doesn’t look up. “I’m fine.” He mutters.
James shakes his head. “No, you’re not. Show me what hurts.”
“Really, James, I’m okay. It’s not that bad.”
“Not that bad?” James exclaims “Bullshit! Show me, Sirius!”
Sirius flinches at James’s raised voice.
James’s heart twinges at the sight.
“Shit. Sorry. Sorry.” He murmurs quietly. “I’m not mad, I swear. Not at you. But I want to see, will you let me?”
Slowly, Sirius nods. “Yeah. Yeah, okay.” He whispers.
Sirius won't do anything for himself, but for James, he'd hang the moon.
In cautious, painful movements, Sirius starts to pull his shirt over his head. He winces every time he moves, and he seems to refuse lifting his elbows any higher than his shoulders.
James gently moves forward to help him out. After a few moments of painstaking work, they finally get the shirt off, exposing the skin beneath.
It takes every fiber of self-control in James’s being not to gasp, not to yell, not to throw things.
This isn’t Sirius. This doesn’t look like Sirius anymore.
He’s lost so much weight. James knew that from the gauntness of his cheeks, but now he can see every one of Sirius’s ribs in his chest. His skin is stretched taught over each bone and his waist is cinched in too tight, all the fat sucked out of him. His entire torso is littered with bruises and burn marks. His collarbone isn’t sitting quite right, it looks lopsided.
All of this is bad, but what makes James the angriest is Sirius’s back. There are deep welts crisscrossing the entire space. Strips of skin hang loosely off of him, exposing deep patches of red and a few slices so deep they are completely white.
No wonder Sirius refuses to lay down. No wonder he's been acting strangely. It’s a miracle he’s even alive.
“Sirius—” James breathes. “What—what happened?”
Sirius is looking down in his lap, not making eye contact.
“It started with just a few hexes, nothing major. But then… but then they thought it would be more fun do try something a little more… unforgivable.”
James wants to throw up. He wants to break things. He wants to wrap his friend in a hug, but he doesn’t know where he can touch him that it won't hurt. Everything looks like it hurts.
“Your mum?” James asks, unable to take his eyes off of Sirius’s chest.
Sirius nods, still not making eye contact. “Yeah.” He whispers. “and my dad. And… and…” he trails off, but James can see where this is going.
“And Regulus?” he asks softly.
Sirius doesn’t answer. He’s twisting his fingers in his lap and the small movement makes one of the welts on his back start oozing a yellowish pus.
“Why?” James breathes. The question pops out before he can stop it. There’s no reason. There’s no reason for anyone to ever do this.
Sirius’s hands still. “Because I deserve it.” He mutters.
James is going to kill them. He’s going to kill all of them.
“No. No, Pads, no.” He reaches for Sirius’s chin, cupping his face in his hand, tipping it up so he can look into his eyes. “You don’t deserve this, understand? No one deserves this, especially not you. Whatever you think you did, whatever they told you you did, it isn’t true, okay? You don’t deserve to be hurt like this. There is nothing in the whole world you could ever do that would make you deserve this.”
James’s voice is so desperate, so pleading. Sirius’s entire life he’s been told how horrible and worthless he is, and James Potter isn’t going to let him start believing it. Not for a single second.
Sirius’s face may be pointing at James’s, but his eyes are distant and blank. “Okay.” He says softly in a tone that sounds more placating than believing.
It hurts James’s heart so much to see his best friend like this. Strong, bold Sirius Black, beaten and broken. He pulls his hand away from Sirius’s face, already making plans for how to fix this.
“You’re coming to mine for Christmas break.” James decides. “And you’re not going home for Easter either. Or the summer. In fact, you’re never setting foot in that house again, I’m making sure of it. Over the summer we’ll—”
“I have to go back, James.” Sirius interrupts softly.
“No! No way! Look what they did to you, Sirius!”
Sirius’s eyes focus back in on James’s.
“I have to go back. They’re family.”
“Bullshit!” James exclaims, voice rising again. “They’re torturing you, Sirius! People who love you don’t do this!”
Sirius’s voice is firm and hard. “I didn’t say they love me. I said they’re family.”
James feels like he might explode with all of the emotions inside of him. He thinks he very well might burst.
“Family is supposed to love you, Sirius! They are supposed to protect you, and take care of you, and look after you! Not use you like a fucking cutting board!”
Sirius winces at the words. “I—I’m sorry.” He stutters, tears welling up in the corners of his eyes. “I’m so sorry.”
James wants to throw something at the big idiot in front of him. The big, traumatized idiot who thinks that it’s all his fault that his parents are literally the worst people alive. He wants to hug him so tightly that all of the self-hatred and loathing his parents planted there oozes out like the fucking pus on his back. But James can’t because none of that would do anything to fix it. None of that would make Sirius understand how wonderful and worthy he is.
“Pads, you didn’t do anything wrong. You didn’t do anything wrong. But please, please, will you let me take you to Madame Pomfrey tomorrow? You need help.”
Sirius shakes his head. “No. It’s not that bad. It just looks bad. It doesn’t hurt, not really. As long as I’m careful. I’ll be fine.”
James frowns, but doesn’t want to get into an argument. “Will you at least drink a pain potion? It’ll help you get some sleep.”
Sirius looks like he’s about to refuse, but then nods his head. “Okay.” He assents.
James rolls off of Sirius’s bed and pads softly to his trunk. He pulls out one of the potions his father gave to him for sore muscles and minor quidditch injuries. It isn’t that strong, and it won’t do much good, but it’s better than nothing.
He slips back into Sirius’s curtains and hands him the vial. Sirius drinks it eagerly.
“Can I stay here tonight?” James asks.
Sirius smiles, the first real smile James has seen since they got back.
“Yeah Prongs, you can stay.”
James smiles back and slips into the covers.
Sirius slowly rolls onto his stomach. He doesn’t look comfortable, exactly, but at least his back isn’t touching anything. James extinguishes his wand and the two boys settle in for the night.
He’s not going to get much sleep tonight.