Chapter 1
Sirius woke up to silence from the other beds in the dorm, and it scared him. Silent nights always did. Waking up to silence meant he was alone. Being alone meant vulnerability, a soft, white underbelly for someone to tear open, leaving entrails leaking indistinct fluid on the floor.
He sat up, cautiously glancing around in the darkness for some semblance of other life. It felt shameful to do so, like he was panhandling for protection. Better ashamed than unsafe, he reckoned.
Shame defines Sirius—the exposure of it all, humiliation at its worst. He’s ashamed from every angle. He’s ashamed whenever his parents down at him. He's ashamed of the blood beneath his flesh; it bleeds pure. Ashamed of the man he’s become. Ashamed of the stars that died to create him and the cloth he’s cut from.
He covers his shame desperately, covers it with even more shame. The same way Narcissa heaves on makeup every time she has to be in the public eye. Like hiding a sin-black hole in the wall with his back. It feels wrong. Wrong, wrong, wrong, wrong-
James’ snoring resumed, putting him at ease. He’s safe. He has James. He has his friends.
James is the sun. He’s a beacon of hope and light, and he could do nothing wrong. Maybe he could. It’d all be the same for Sirius. James is the good in a world where so much cruelty exists— and no one can do anything about it. And even worse, he’s at the forefront of the bad.
He’s made of bad. His whole family’s bad. He was born bad. He was born so, so bad.
Sirius puts his face in his hands and clamps his hands around his hair and pulls.
It’s gonna be a bad day today. It’s sad, and Sirius wants to die. James is going to stop being friends with him. He knows it. He’s gonna stop being friends with him, which will make Moony and Wormtail also go away, and he’ll be alone. He’ll be alone and vulnerable.