Sometimes A Fantasy
Sirius wakes up to the sound of someone slipping out of his room. He has a raging hangover, his head spinning.
The person who slept beside him left an article of clothing, when he picks it up to inspect it, he notices exactly what it is.
Remus’ sweater.
He jumps out of bed, only wearing underwear. Racing down the stairs, he catches Remus before he can escape out his front door.
He stopped to pet Padfoot which fortunately gave Sirius enough time to get to him. Bless that dog.
Remus is fully dressed, wearing Sirius’ old college t-shirt in place of his own sweater.
“Remus.” Sirius says, face pink as he stares across the room.
He snaps his head up, “Oh, hi. I was just leaving.”
Sirius would remember, he would remember if they. . . if something had happened, he would know.
It would’ve been something that didn’t weigh on his shoulders, like everything else seemed to do, this would have been a memory Sirius cherished. One he could replay in his mind for the rest of his life.
“Sorry I slept here. I think I was trashed last night.” Remus chuckles, embarrassment tinting his voice.
Sirius shakes his head, “Me too, honestly. Are you headed to the hospital?”
“Going home to let Moony out.” He decides, “Neighbors will kill me if they have to do it again.”
“Ah,” Sirius says, trying to decipher if that’s a lie or if Remus truly does have to go.
Remus stays awkwardly by the door, “Talk to you later, yeah?”
Remus can’t be alone for another minute with a half-naked Sirius if he wants to keep his sanity. Leaving is the only option. If he doesn’t, he would have to bend him over the fucking couch and have it his way.
He closes the door behind him, taking a deep breath.
Meanwhile in the house, Sirius shoves on the sweater in his hands, the sleeves far too long, and goes about his morning.
〚*〛
Pandora knocks on the door. She continues to knock until she realizes that climbing through the window is her best option.
Barty is at the table eating breakfast, “Hey, Pandora. What’s up?”
She tilts her head to the side, “Did you not hear me knocking?”
“I did,” he takes a spoonful of cereal into his mouth, “I just thought Regulus would get it.”
“Where is Regulus?”
“Probably Potter’s.” He shrugs, unsure.
Pandora folds her arms across her chest, “How would Regulus get the door if he’s not even here?”
“How does Regulus do anything?” Barty asks, “I don’t know. I didn’t care. You made it inside.”
“Where’s Evan?” Pandora asks.
Barty stares, “I called you a week ago, where were you?”
“On a meditation trip in Belize.” She smiles, “Very relaxing. You should go.”
He laughs, “Absolutely not.”
Pandora doesn’t fight, just lays her tote bag on the corner of a chair and turns, her white skirt flowing behind her. She walks up the stairs and turns to her brother’s room.
Evan is sitting on the edge of his bed, staring at the wall. Just inadvertently out of his own mind, not even noticing Pandora was here.
She snaps, gaining his attention, “Hi, Ev-y, how are you?”
A bit of a loaded question, that is. He puts on a face, “Oh, hi, Panda, what’re ya doing here?” She plops down on the bed next to him, offering to take his hands. Evan gives them to her. “I’m going to take all the bad energy out of you.”
“Oh-kay.” He squints, trying to understand how that would happen.
When it’s over, Evan doesn’t feel any better, although he feels bad admitting that to his sister. She just blames it on the fact he is carrying so much bad energy that there would be no way for her to suck it out by herself.
Evan is supposed to head to the hospital, like he tells Pandora, who wants to go with him. Barty was driving, so she climbed into the backseat, the three of them listening to music from the radio.
It drowns out the sound of his suffering. For a few minutes, all he can focus on is Barty’s off-key singing to some girly pop artist Evan’s never heard of, and things are alright.
The world isn’t ending.
As much as it feels like it, Evan is still alive. He has to remind himself of it, so often he does, but he remembers. It’s moments like this, when he’s grateful to be stuck at a red light, because it’s an extra minute in the car with the two people who would do anything to take away all of this pain.
He doesn’t know if they realize how much he loves them.
〚*〛
Dorcas steps out of their bedroom, the monotonous sounds of the ball hitting the wall.
Over and over.
And over and over and over and over and over.
That is all Marlene has been doing since four in the morning. She skipped her morning run, which is probably for the best, and instead is supposed to be working her hand out.
Dorcas has reached her limit, standing in front of her girlfriend. Marlene hasn’t showered in the two days she got home from the hospital, her hair in two ratty little braids at the sides of her head. When she’s standing there she realizes Marlene hasn’t even been using it correctly.
Her exterior softens, hoping to get her point across, “Why don’t you try your bad hand? That’s what the ball’s for, right, fixing your bad hand?”
Marlene rolls her eyes and throws her ball across the room, hitting a coffee mug and knocking it off the counter, shattering on the floor.
Dorcas stares, watching Marlene nod, “My bad hand works.”
“There’s coffee on the floor.” She points. Dorcas isn’t like this, she’s messy and a lot of the time, doesn’t care enough to even think twice about the state of her home. Her brain is filled with one of two things: surgery or Mckinnon. “You know what?” Dorcas relents, “Whatever. I’ll clean it up.”
“Leave it.” Marlene rolls her eyes, “It doesn’t matter.”
〚*〛
Evan pauses at the front of the building, staring.
Barty pauses, “Evan?”
“I’ll see you there.” He motions him to go, “I know you have rounds.”
Pandora doesn’t leave, although Barty does. “You know, Evan, everything is going to be fine. Macdonald is on your side, from what I’ve heard.”
“Could you go, I need to practice my speech?” He asks his little sister. She disappears somewhere.
〚*〛
“I didn’t ask you to convince him to come in,” Albus scoffs, absurdly.
“But I did. I did convince him.” Macdonald puts her hands on a chair.
“There is a whole series of disciplinary and rehabilitative steps that Evan Rosier will have to take before-”
Macdonald interrupts him, “Then you can explain them to him.”
“I never agreed to that.” Dumbledore reminds her.
Mary doesn’t see why he won’t just allow it. “Look, he didn’t commit a crime. He’s an intern—my intern—if you want to blame someone, blame me.” She gestures, “But look, that boy is coming in here today, and-and you are going to talk to him. And you’re going to remember all the other surgeons you’ve known who’ve ever had a lapse in judgment that led to someone dying or someone’s arm falling off. Most importantly,” she takes a step forward, practically in his face, “you’re going to remember all the mistakes that you made when you were young and stupid. And you’re going to be filled with patience and compassion.” She yells.
“That’s what I’m going to do?”
“Yes!” She demands, quickly backtracking at her own voice, “Yes, Chief.”
Not a lot of people turn down Mary Macdonald, not even Albus Dumbledore.
〚*〛
Regulus was up early taking care of a hungover James Potter, which made him tired. When he’s tired, he’s cranky.
In the E.R., the three of them are listening to Dorcas’ story about Marlene, “I’m on my knees in a puddle of coffee, and she’s lying on the couch fucking playing with balls.” She doesn’t even have to look at him before she says, “Barty, stop being a perv.”
Regulus has a half-smile, nothing makes him happier than someone being mean to Barty.
“I didn’t say anything yet!”
“Yet.” Dorcas takes a bite of a banana, “That’s the key word in that.”
Barty, annoyed, starts complaining, “Maybe stop being mean to your girlfriend who is recovering from surgery, and depression in surgical patients.”
“She’s not a patient!” Dorcas groans, “She’s Marlene Mckinnon. She’s just milking it. She’s got me fetching her food like I’m a dog, no.”
They’re waiting for the elevator when James pops out of him, much more cheerful than he was six hours ago, Regulus holding his hair back when he was crouched over the toilet and regretting all that alcohol from the night before.
“Hey,” he says, stopping to kiss Regulus quickly. He doesn’t even mind this, small little affections. He hands him a coffee and a little box. Inside, there’s a croissant. “Here’s breakfast, sorry about last night. I know I was-”
“Shut up, you’re fine.” Regulus tells him, opening the box to take a bite, “I’ve gotta round but find me later, okay?”
“Okay,” he grins, “how about lunch today?”
“I’ll see you then.” Regulus nods, stepping onto the elevator. He eats half of his croissant, Barty finishing it off. He was way more hungry in the first place.
Dorcas presses the button, “I saw that Evan was back. That’s good.”
As soon as the doors open, Macdonald is standing and waiting for them. When people say she knows everyday, believe it.
“Follow me,” she leads them, “Black, we’re clearing the decks. I need you writing discharge forms. Meadowes, you’re with Dr. Potter, Crouch, Dr. Black, trauma, and Dr. Mulciber, Dr. Longbottom has requested you today in ortho.”
“Why?” He murmurs.
“Maybe he is going to punish you for making fun of his name, I don’t know. Stop standing here and go.” She points, Mulciber scurrying away. The rest of them follow suit.
〚*〛
Barty is handed a chart, the nurse warning him that this is the child’s fourth emergency room visit in three months. A bit alarming.
Her name is Megan Clover.
“She fell on the playground, there was a lot of blood and it looked deep.” Barty takes one second of starting to get an idea of what kinds of parents they are.
“I know how this looks, but she really did fall.” The father assures him, like that makes it any better.
Crouch looks him up and down, concerned.
“This is her file,” the mother tries to hand him a huge binder, “it goes back to way before we got her.”
“Before you got her?” He asks.
The father clears things up, “We are her foster parents. She’s such a great kid but she plays really—she plays rough.”
Crouch nods, “Why don’t you go to the nurses station and have them make a copy of her file for you? And, uh, I’ll take a look at Megan’s leg.”
They head out.
When it’s just him and the little girl, Barty hopes she will tell him what’s really going on.
“You’ve got some mean looking bruises, you know that?” He points, looking at a purple-green one on her calf. “What is that?” He gently turns her wrist, to which Megan snaps it away. “Did you hurt your wrist?”
“Nothing big. I fell off my bike.” It’s definitely an excuse for something else.
Barty pulls her pink jacket sleeve up, “Are those staples?” He is grossed out, looking at the infected wound, “What the hell? Did they do this to you?”
“No!” Megan shakes her head, “No.”
“Who did this to you then?” Barty asks, worried.
“I did.” She gushes, “I didn’t wanna go to the doctor again so I just stapled it, it’s no biggie.”
“You stapled your own arm?” He gawks.
Megan uses her arm to bring the attention back to her lower half, “Can you just please stitch up my leg so I can get out of here?”
Barty refuses, “You’re not going anywhere with those people, Megan. They’re never going to lay a hand on you again.”
Megan is trying to tell him, over and over, “They didn’t do anything! Please,” she begs him, “they’re the best parents I’ve ever had.”
“Megan.” He sighs.
“They don’t hurt me, I can’t be hurt.” She watches the doctor clearly wave it off as a lie, as childhood bravery, maybe. “Punch me in the stomach. Right now.” Barty’s not even paying attention, preparing medicine instead.
“The staples are in there pretty deep.” He warns her, “I’m going to have to give you a shot to numb the pain.”
She shakes her head, “I don’t need a shot.”
“Trust me, you want a shot, it’s swollen-”
Megan retaliates by ripping the staples off her body on her own, using her teeth to get to the last one, spitting it out on her bedside.
“That didn’t even hurt?” Barty is amazed.
This kid thinks she has superpowers, that she is invincible and cannot ever be harmed.
〚*〛
James is speaking to Dorcas, “Mr. Tresselt’s having a corpus callosotomy. What does that look like?”
“We’ll be severing some of the fibers that connect the right and left hemisphere of his brain to prevent the spread of seizure activity from one half of his brain to the other.” She answers, automatic.
Mrs. Tresselt is cradling a baby in her arms, talking to it, “Daddy's letting them chop his brain in half, because he’s a big dummy. Yes, he is.”
The husband is sick of the passive-aggressiveness, “They aren’t chopping my brain in half, Leanne.”
She continues to talk to the baby like he is.
James tries to alleviate some of the tension, “Taylor should function much like he does right now.”
“Really?”
“I’m having five seizures a day, you don’t even trust me with the baby. I’m getting this surgery, Leanne.” He snaps at her.
“Look,” James says, hands in his pockets, “if you’re not sure, for any reason, we can wait.”
Dorcas tilts her head down, she wants him to have this surgery. She needs to scrub in on something, even if it’s a brain surgery, before she goes absolutely insane.
Taylor Tresselt is pleading with his wife, “Please, we already agreed.”
She doesn’t say no this time.
〚*〛
Barty finds Mary and Sirius, “Look, I’ve got this kid in the pit, she’s psycho and her foster parents are beating the crap out of her.”
Mary sets the scans aside, focusing on her intern, “Did she tell you that or did you figure it out yourself?”
“Well, she’s covered in bruises.” Barty tells them, “She’s got a ten centimeter lac on her arm, three staples in it. Like a staple gun from a garage.”
“Her parents did that?” Sirius asks, confused.
“Says she did it herself.” He mentions, “Has this whole thing about being a superhero and not feeling pain.”
Mary goes by the book, “Did you call social services?”
“On their way.”
“Run a cold pressure test on the girl,” Sirius orders him, “it’ll test her response to the pain.”
Barty sets it all up, having Megan put her hand in the water. He has to do it with her, convince her it’s a competition. Who can hold it under the ice.
He waits.
And they wait.
Who will break first?
The answer: Barty.
He yanks his hand back, a string of curses following, urging Megan to take her hand out too.
In disbelief, he asks, “You didn’t feel anything? Nothing?”
“I told you,” she rolls her eyes, “nobody ever believes me. I mean this kid didn’t believe me so I had to let him punch me in the stomach twenty-five times, and once with a baseball bat, before he let up.”
“What?”
〚*〛
Dorcas stares, “We are going to have cardiology check this and you’ll be good to go.”
The man takes his baby, his wife complaining about the recovery. Dorcas starts ranting about the caretaker role and how it’s worse than the actual patient.
She would keep going but her patient begins to seize too.
〚*〛
“Hey, you okay?” Barty asks, offering a coffee to Evan. “How did it go with the Chief?”
“I’m about to go in.” He stares at the hospital doors.
“You haven’t—oh. Okay. Are you okay?”
He nods, trying to fake it as best as he can, “I’m good.”
“Alright, well, you can come inside.” Barty gestures, but Evan waves him off.
〚*〛
“Seizures lasted about a minute and his postictal was five.”
James is positive, “It shouldn’t interfere with surgery, assuming we are still going forward.”
He looks at his wife as if she is giving him permission. She nods, then the patient says, “Yes, Dr. Potter.”
〚*〛
Albus crosses his arms and stares down at Mary. “Rosier was supposed to be in my office at 9:30. Didn’t show. Did you two change your minds?”
“No, he said he was coming in,” Mary waves him off, “He’ll track you down eventually. Maybe you missed him.”
When he leaves, Mary lets out a breath. What is Evan doing? He promised he would be there, on time, professional, and apologetic as hell.
Before long, her moment of silence is interrupted by an intern: Barty, who steps up to her, “We need to run a C.T. on this kid’s abdomen. This superhero shit is getting way out of hand.”
Mary tilts her head, “It’s alright if she thinks she’s a superhero, what’s not alright is that she’s getting injured because of it. I mean, I believed in Santa Claus until I was eleven, so. . . superheroes not all bad.” She murmurs, moving pages around.
“Really,” Barty tries to imagine it, “well. . . did Santa ever hit you in the gut with a baseball bat?”
Mary looks up confused, wanting to see the case for herself, “Let’s go. And while we are walking do you want to tell me where Rosier is?”
〚*〛
Regulus is sitting at lunch with James, he can feel Barty stalking them from their usual table.
James ignores it, as usual, “I’m sorry about last night.” He nods, “To make it up to you, I have a surgery this afternoon. Corpus callosotomy, want to scrub in?”
“Are you serious?” Regulus’ jaw drops. “You’re cutting a brain in half?”
“We are, if you want.” James says, sitting on his second coffee of the day. Medical school fueled his caffeine addiction.
〚*〛
Mckinnon stops to stand beside Evan, her arm still wrapped in a sling. “Coming or going?” She asks, the two of them both with eyes stuck on the building in front of them.
Evan sighs, “I don’t know.”
She is equally as unsure, “Me neither.”
But Marlene eventually moves from her spot to make it to the inside of the building, finding the Chief.
When Dorcas notices this, she smiles to herself. It can surely mean one thing, that the regular Marlene is going to return and this new, meaner version will be nothing but a distant horrid memory.
〚*〛
As Barty loads the girl into the machine, she’s very concerned, “How much is this going to cost my parents?”
He fixes the pillow, “That’s not something you need to worry about.”
She rolls her eyes, looking at the nurse, “I’m fine. Can you punch me in the stomach to show them I’m fine?”
Barty stares down at the girl, “Would you stop asking people to punch you, please? You need to lie down and not move.”
From inside the room, Mary and Lily are speaking.
The ginger asks, “You need a consult?”
Mary hands her the file, “Just waiting for a picture.”
Lily clears her throat, “How are you?”
“I should ask you. Where’ve you been?” Mary has noticed how much she’s been gone lately. “I mean, you’ve disappeared a lot since. . . since we had the prom, it’s felt like.”
“Oh, yeah. That was just—I’ve been busy.”
“We’re all busy. We’re surgeons.”
Lily tucks her hair behind her ears, standing up as Crouch steps in, “She came for sutures, why all this?”
“Off the chart pain threshold.” The intern answers.
Lily already has an idea, “Chronic insensitivity to pain. It’s usually diagnosed young but if she’s been bounced around the foster care system then-”
“What the hell is that?” Barty stares at the image.
〚*〛
Dr. Potter is retracting the right hemisphere when he questions Regulus, “What do we want to avoid?”
“Avoid retractors on the sagittal sinus.” He answers, probably right off the top of his head, “To prevent sinus thrombosis.”
“Excellent.”
〚*〛
Barty watches, “You’ve been standing out here for a while.”
“For a while, I stood over there.” He gestures to the tree across the sidewalk.
“Maybe you should sit down.”
“I don’t want to sit down.” Evan folds his arms.
Barty’s nothing if not stubborn, “Maybe you should do it anyways.”
“Maybe stop acting like I’m your boyfriend and go inside, Barty. I don’t need you to take care of me, alright? Go fucking find Regulus and psychoanalyze him, not me.”
Barty’s eyebrows are raised, “That’s what you think I’m doing?”
“What, Regulus turned you down so I’m the next best thing?” Evan stuffs his hands in his pockets, “Because I’m not gay, Barty. And more than that, I'm not going to be the person you have as an afterthought. I’m supposed to be getting married.”
“Well, Evan, she’s dead. She died. So you might as well get it through your head and walk through those doors to save the only thing you have left in your life, which is your career, if you can manage to not fuck that up too.” Barty decides, angrily walking back inside, leaving Evan alone.
What even just happened?
Barty’s right.
The only thing Evan has left is the possibility of saving his career. He’s lost Deni. He’s just lost his best friend. And honestly, he didn’t have a lot to begin with.
〚*〛
It’s Dr. Macdonald who breaks the news to the parents, “Megan’s bleeding internally. There’s severe trauma to her abdomen.”
“We need to operate, it’s pretty bad.” Barty mentions.
Dr. Evans speaks too, “Megan may have a chromosomal condition that causes her not to feel any pain when she’s injured. It explains why she gets hurt so often. Genetic testing will need to happen but let’s assume she’ll need to be monitored very closely from now on.”
The foster-mother is in tears, “Surgery is the only option?”
“I think it is.” She nods, “I know you’ve been put through the wringer already today, but I need to ask you to trust me on this.”
〚*〛
Dorcas finds Marlene in the attending lounge, happily strutting in, “You’re back. I didn’t know you were talking to the Chief today.”
“Well,” she avoids eye-contact, “I’m heading home. I’m just grabbing some notes.”
“What’s wrong?” Dorcas looks at her, “This is a good thing, you coming back.”
Marlene tilts her head up, making eye-contact with her girlfriend, “I’m taking a leave of absence, Dorcas.”
“Why?” She asks, confused, angry. Dorcas didn’t know that she was doing this, Marlene could have at least filled her in. “So, like a week or something?”
Marlene doesn’t have a definitive answer, “As long as it takes.”
“Well, it’s not going to take that long. You’re three weeks into physical therapy already.” She points out.
Marlene shakes her head, talking as she walks out of the room and into the elevator, doors shutting, “Come on, Dorcas, recovery from brachial plexus surgery is measured in months. The surgery is considered a success when a patient can flex the elbow. Some patients never move their shoulders again. Some recover sensation. They don’t recover dexterity, they simply don’t recover.”
Dorcas doesn’t understand the pessimism and she is a pessimist at heart. “You’re not some patient, you are Marlene Mckinnon.”
“Really?” She scoffs, blinking away the tears that are forming in her eyes, “That means nothing right now.”
The doors open and Marlene leaves her standing there alone.
〚*〛
Dr. Potter is doing the post-surgery questions.
“Close your eyes, squeeze them tight.” James instructs, “Good. Okay, can you squeeze my fingers?”
He nods to Regulus, who checks off the box.
“Great, now wiggle your toes.”
James nods a second time, “Flying colors.”
His wife is smiling, relieved it’s going well. “He’s always tested well,” she brags to them, holding the baby in her arms.
James moves the pale pink cup in front of him, “Can you tell me, what is this?”
The patient hesitates, staring at it.
“Take your time.” James encourages him, unlike the wife who nags, “What’s it called? It’s right in front of you. Just tell us.”
He licks his lips, Regulus asking, “Can you see this here?”
“I can see it.” He speaks, “I just, I don’t-”
“That’s okay,” James repeats, “sometimes the names of things are tough. Just try again.”
The wife stands up from the seat she was in, “What’s my name?”
Her own husband is speechless, “I can’t–”
She looks at her son, “What’s his name?”
“I know what it is.” He assures her, “I just, I need, I-”
“What’s his name?” She asks, harsher.
James tries to de-escalate the situation, “Leanne, let’s give him a moment, okay?”
She doesn’t spend another second longer in the room. She’s crying in the seat outside, “He named the baby, how could he not know?”
“The right side of the brain senses emotional connection to the baby.” Regulus mentions, “It just can’t communicate with the left side of the brain where the words are formed. You see the pathway has been compromised. He needs to make a new one.”
“Well, how long will it take?”
“However long it takes.” James interjects, “He needs your support, your guidance. I have full faith he will get better. But things take time.”
〚*〛
When Barty steps to tell Mary about Megan’s condition, she focuses on the boy standing in the cold.
“Has Evan been out there all day?”
“Megan’s stable.” Barty declines the question, “That’s all I have to say.”
〚*〛
Dorcas sets the grocery bag on her kitchen counter, unloading chicken after chicken.
“Are you cooking for me?” Marlene asks, staying at the armchair and reading her novel.
Dorcas scoffs, “I’m not.” When has she ever voluntarily cooked, “You can take a leave of absence if you want to, but you’re not going to sit on your ass all day. You’re going to work hard and you’re going to get every bit of your strength and dexterity back.”
“Oh really?” Marlene deadpans, “How?”
Dorcas takes her sharpest knife and slams it down onto the raw meat, setting it down to throw a suture kit at Marlene. “Put it back together.”
〚*〛
James is staring at his best friend, “My dad’s been calling a lot.”
“Why?” Sirius asks, lounging in the emergency room. “Because he knows you’re bisexual?”
“It’s just not fair. I want to be with Regulus-”
“You are with Regulus.” Sirius reminds him, “James, you are with Regulus, right?”
He blinks, “I want to be with him out loud. I want to bring him to family dinner and Christmas, and all of the things.”
“I have to tell you something,” Sirius says, carefully.
“What?”
“Remus spent the night at my house.” Sirius confesses, “We sleep in the same bed and I didn't even kiss him. Am I stupid, how stupid am I?”
“Very stupid.” James groans, “Sirius, you can’t pine for that long and not kiss him. Did you even try?”
Sirius is embarrassed of his own actions, “I used to be good at this kind of stuff. I was hot-”
“You are hot, Sirius.” James tells him, “You just need to stop getting in your own head.”
"It's not my fault I've got a ginormous brain!" He smacks James' arm, “What do I do?”
James playfully hits him back, "You've got a big head, not a ginormous brain!"
"James." Sirius sighs, "Advice. Now. Please."
“I don’t know!”
Sirius feels like he's holding out on him, “You got the most grouchy, mean, borderline evil person to fall in love with you. I mean, you know, you got Regulus. If you can do that, you can teach me how to get Remus to fall in love with me.”
James rolls his eyes, “I get that he’s your brother but Regulus is not mean and he’s definitely not evil so don’t say that.”
“God, I need him. I physically need him, James.”
James laughs at the desperation and seriousness of his best friend's voice, “Okay, well. . . here’s an idea! Why don’t you just go ask him out?”
“James.”
“What?” He stares, “I really don’t understand the problem. I mean, I think he likes you back. You clearly really like him.”
Sirius throws his head back, “Yeah, no, you’re right. I’ll just ask him out. It can’t be that hard.”
“There you go.” James claps him on the back, “Why aren’t you leaving?”
“Well, he’s in surgery. I saw it on the board.”
“Oh.” James laughs.
Sirius smiles back at him. “You know, I’m really glad you and me are in the same place again.”
“Yeah, me too.” James nods, “I was worried I’d never see you again when you left.”
Sirius scrunches his nose, “I’m sorry. I just—I don’t know.”
“Don’t apologize.” James tells him, “It doesn’t matter because you’re here and I’m here and everything is going to be okay.”
Sirius just has that agonizing feeling. That maybe things aren’t going to be okay. He doesn’t know why it’s here, but it is. He wants it gone.
But it’s here and he's terrified.
For the first time in his life, he has so much to lose.