Sirius in the bathroom
The sound of retching echoed off the cold stone walls of the Hogwarts bathroom, bouncing off the tiles in a rhythmic, unsettling way. Remus Lupin paused just inside the door, frowning as he listened. It wasn’t that uncommon to find someone ill in the bathrooms, but the sound — harsh, raw — made his stomach twist uncomfortably. He stood frozen, unsure of what to do. There were no other voices, no calls for help, just the sickening, repetitive noise that made the hairs on the back of his neck stand on end.
It was the middle of dinner, but Remus had already eaten. After weeks of trying to settle his mind, he had decided to retreat to the dorms for a bit of quiet reading. A far cry from his usual routines, but he didn’t care. Lately, he didn’t care about much of anything. Except for one thing.
Sirius Black.
He knew it wasn’t his business. He had no right to care. Sirius had made that very clear by walking away from him — from everything — after the disaster of their fourth year. But the sight of him over the past few months had made Remus’ chest ache. That was the problem with caring for someone. It didn't go away when they told you they didn’t need it.
When the door to the stall finally creaked open, Remus tensed, expecting to see a third-year student who had eaten too many sweets or someone who had caught a nasty cold. But it wasn’t.
Sirius stepped out, his face pale, his breath ragged as he steadied himself against the edge of the stall. He looked... different. His normally confident, mischievous expression was gone, replaced by something close to panic. His eyes darted to Remus for just a moment, widening in surprise, before he quickly straightened, plastering a half-hearted grin on his face.
“You alright?” Remus asked, his voice cautious.
Sirius stiffened at the sound of his voice, then seemed to shake off his discomfort. “Yeah, yeah, just—just felt a bit sick,” he said, his words too quick, too rehearsed.
Remus didn't buy it for a second. His eyes traced over Sirius, noting the way his sharp cheekbones seemed more prominent than they had been when they returned to Hogwarts for fith year. The hollows beneath his eyes had darkened, and his once well-fitted sweater now hung loose on his frame, a little too big for him. Sirius had always been thin, but now he looked... almost frail, like the life had been drained out of him.
"Padfoot," Remus began again, more firmly this time, his patience thinning. “Why were you throwing up?”
Sirius' gaze flickered toward the door as if considering running, but the moment was gone, and he forced himself to meet Remus’s eyes. There was a flicker of something in those dark eyes — guilt, maybe, or fear — but it was gone before Remus could pin it down.
"It’s nothing, really," Sirius replied, his voice sounding too loud in the empty bathroom. “Just a little stomach bug, you know how it is.”
Remus wasn’t fooled. He could see the way Sirius was holding himself, tense and defensive. He could see the unease in the way Sirius avoided his gaze, the way he kept shifting on his feet. Remus narrowed his eyes, stepping closer. He couldn't help it — there was something wrong, something he couldn't ignore any longer.
“You haven’t been eating properly," Remus said slowly, his voice growing more insistent. "In fact, I don’t think I’ve seen you at a meal in days.”
Sirius stiffened at the mention of food, his expression twisting slightly. He was too good at hiding things, but Remus knew him too well. He'd spent years learning how to read Sirius, to understand the subtle shifts in his mood and behavior. And something was terribly off.
“I’ve just… been busy,” Sirius said, but the lie was so thin it was almost laughable.
Remus took another step forward, his frustration rising. He wasn’t about to let Sirius off the hook so easily. He grabbed Sirius by the shoulders, pushing him against the cold wall of the bathroom. Sirius made a small noise of surprise, his back hitting the stone with a soft thud.
“Padfoot, tell me what’s going on,” Remus demanded, his voice low and steady. “Why were you throwing up? You’ve been getting thinner by the day, and I’ve seen how you avoid meals. I’m not stupid. You’ve been hiding something, and I want to know what it is.”
Sirius’ eyes widened, panic flitting across his face, but he quickly masked it with a forced smirk. “It’s really nothing, Lupin. I’m fine.”
Remus’ heart sank at the use of his last name, at the way it felt like a deliberate distance between them. He hated it, hated how far Sirius had pushed him away, hated that even in moments like this, Sirius couldn't allow him to see the truth. He leaned in closer, their noses nearly touching, the heat of their breath mingling in the small space between them.
“Don’t lie to me, Padfoot,” Remus growled, his voice dangerously soft. “Why were you throwing up?”
For a moment, Sirius faltered, his eyes dropping to the floor. Remus held his breath, waiting for the answer, but it never came. Instead, Sirius’ entire posture shifted, like a man cornered. Without warning, he slipped out from under Remus' grip, ducking beneath his arm and sprinting toward the door.
Remus stood there, rooted to the spot, feeling the sudden coldness of the bathroom settle around him. He stared at the empty doorway, his heart pounding in his chest. For a long moment, he didn’t move. He wanted to chase after him, to drag him back and make him talk, but something stopped him.
Sirius wouldn’t talk. Not now, not yet.