Potion Mishaps
Sirius barely blinks when the door to their dormitory bursts open, heavy breathing coming from his best friend as James attempts to gather himself, one arm behind his back and the other grabbing at his shirt. It’s truly a wonder what six years of living with his friends over half the year has done to rewire Sirius’ brain - he's a little proud, honestly, he grew up flinching at every sudden noise and now only has to stop for a minuscule second to abort the reflex. He tilts his head when he faces the door, noting from his peripheral how Peter has also come to a stop to see what the commotion was for. It’s not really the noise or interruption that had grabbed Sirius’ attention if he’s being honest, it’d be bizarre for James to enter silently - never quite had a gift for sneaking, that one. No, that falls to Pete who scurries like a mouse and Sirius, whose first eleven years of evading his parents truly pays off during pranks.
Truly, the reason Sirius is even bothering to check is that he knows for a fact that James had snuck out to see someone and wanted to find a clue as to who that person was. And maybe he’s checking to make sure the noise didn’t wake Remus, sue him. He’s been worried about Remus’ sleeping habits for well over a week, attempting to ensure his… friend is sleeping off the effects of the last full moon.
What Sirius is decidedly not expecting to happen when he turns is for his world to be spun on its axis, his memories of childhood to come flooding back so fast that he had to hold a hand to his mouth to avoid them spilling out. Immediately, he decides he’s insane and must check himself into St. Mungo’s because there’s no way, absolutely no way that he’s seeing correctly.
Sirius has this thing that he does when his memories start being funny again, this habit of his where he runs through his entire day and tries to pick at important details. This morning had started off practically identical to the rest of the week, so instead of rushing to panic, he sits and he thinks and he refuses to look at James and what he holds in the arm behind his back until the entire morning has played through his mind.
There’s a special kind of mundanity in waking up the morning before your entire worldview changes, the wonderful peace of being blissfully unaware that will follow you until it happens. On the third of February, Sirius Black went about his morning as peacefully as possible - as it began, there was nothing of note. Still, his world had yet to be turned on its axis, so the mundanity of it all went unnoticed to him.
Stumbling to the bathroom, he bumped into James, who had hopped out of the shower following his morning run. He wore his usual goofy smile and nodded at Sirius, knowing that any early morning noise would be received poorly by his best friend. With a soft laugh, James muttered “eleven,” referring to his countdown to Valentine's Day, also known as James’ favorite day of the year and happiest of occasions. When Sirius didn’t return his enthusiasm, James raised his eyebrows at a still-sleeping Remus Lupin and made some remark about how Sirius should start planning something, wanker, was his swift response — because, obviously, he was not interested. He didn’t even like blokes, alright? Just because James does..
As James walked away to get dressed, Sirius found himself hesitant to fill his spot in the bathroom. Instead, he continued to look at Remus. Now, that was the picture of blissful ignorance. He slept on his stomach, despite James’ protests about how that’s why his back constantly hurts and it being worse on his bad leg, with his hair tousled every which way and one leg hitched slightly up on the bed. He did snore, much to his disdain, but it was light and (unbiasedly) cute.
Before he could deem the staring creepy, Sirius turned and made himself look presentable for breakfast. While he could never claim to be a morning person, there was a soft pleasure he found in getting ready. Pulling his soft curls from his face and tightening it with his wand like Mary had thought him. Applying a soft cream that Effie gave him to his face made with all kinds of teas and herbs. Pinching his cheeks ‘til a light blush shone. Grabbing some strands from the wand-made bun to frame his face. There was some old mascara he'd nicked from Marlene and he loves brushing it through his lashes and letting excess smear to form a wing by his eyes. It was a routine and, despite what his chaotic demeanor might signal, Sirius appreciated the sense of control it gave him.
He ruminated more on control and what it meant to him as his eyes fell on Remus’s scar elixir, haphazardly closed in a way that showed how tired he’d been the night before. There’s very little things that they can all do for Remus during the full moon and even though they were able to figure out a way to keep him company, it still doesn’t feel like enough. With soft trembling fingers, he closed the lid and sighed. He was heavy on his feet when he walked over to his trunk, but he knew that the sounds of complains he heard were James waking Remus, so at least he look forward to the boys company at breakfast today.
Remus did not appreciate being roused. With a groan and toss of his arm, he pushed James out of the way — Quite the remarkable feat if one considers how fit James is. Instead of sending Sirius in, as James usually would, he called for Peter to help. Sirius tried not to feel offended. He knew there was a reason behind wanting to keep Remus and him away from each other so early in the morning, as they were both prone to arguments and grumpy before eating, but it still hurt. He couldn’t complain, though, seeing as they had just fought. It’s not that Sirius likes picking fights, he’s not a violent person despite what many might think. At least, he doesn't try to be. In general, he always aims for the easy-going happiness that radiates from James, and though it certainly takes more effort for him to achieve, he usually gets away with it and is labeled as having charm and charisma off the charts.
The point is that Sirius never tries to pick a fight with anyone, especially not Remus, as he’s always had a special affinity for him. It’s just that it's weird between him and Remus; he's different from the other marauders in a way that he can’t quite put a pin on. Sirius can’t pretend that he doesn't chase the thrill that comes with bickering, and sometimes he’s gotten lost in the glint that Remus’s breathtaking eyes get when he’s being antagonized, and at some points, he gets so lost that he doesn’t notice his mouth is spouting nonsense that just gets him deeper and deeper into the argument until it becomes a full-blown fight. And no one can really help them when they’ve fought, they both become so miserable.
Sirius is consequently snapped from his self-pitying train of thought by someone calling his name, except, oh, it's Remus. “huh,” he mutters, spinning to face the boy’s bed when he finds it empty. “Padfoot,” Remus calls again, his voice riddled with sleep, and this time, Sirius has the sense to notice the voice is coming from the opened bathroom door - not the empty bed. He’s rubbing sleep from his eyes with one hand and holding up a cream with the other.
“Figured you’d throw a fit if I did this alone, lend me a hand?” He says, and Sirius can’t be blamed for the grin that splits his face. It’s just really nice, okay? Lovely, in fact, to be considered like that. He’s granted minimal time to freak out over the fact that Remus noticed how much Sirius enjoys helping him with the elixir because the sheer joy of not fighting with Remus anymore erupts out of him in the form of a giggle as he walks over.
At breakfast, which was accompanied with the grumpy faces of Lily Evans, Marlene Mckinnon, and Mary Macdonald, Sirius talks to his brother. Well, talk is admittedly an overstatement. Sirius had let his eyes wander to the Slytherin table, searching for the pair that would match his own. He found Regulus already looking his way, and didn't miss the way his brother's eyes hardened. They hadn’t spoken at all since Sirius moved in with the Potters but he thinks they’re okay. He hopes they are, at least. (They’re not, but if grasping at straws is the best he gets, then Sirius will grasp till his arms are sore – in some thrilling way, looking for affection in Regulus’ eyes feels like looking for a snitch from the stands of a quidditch game, finding it far before the seekers do). The brothers take a few seconds off to look , Regulus' gaze is filled with anger and Sirius tries to fight off a cold shiver. And that's it. He looks away. It’s not enough, not even a fraction of what Sirius wants to say to his brother, his broken mirror. But it’s all he can stomach for now, it’s all they can handle.
It was Saturday, which meant no classes and usually some type of Hogsmeade trip or hangout in the courtyard. Sirius wouldn't have had the heart to deny his friends an outing, even though it sounded like the last thing he wanted to do. However, thanks whatever force guarded the heavens (or, you know, McGonagall) , Hogsmeade weekend had been pushed for the next week due to the day’s quidditch game that would break the tie between Hufflepuff and Ravenclaw since it will happen a day earlier than usual as the weather in the night was predicted to be nothing short of nasty.
When everyone stumbled back to the dorms, Marlene being helped by Mary and James as she drowsed on his shoulder, Sirius made himself comfortable on the desk and began on one of his six rolls of parchment he’d been assigned as punishment for one prank or another. James had tried to exit the dorm casually and failed miserably, since he couldn’t help but stop by Sirius’ mirror to check his honest-to-god gelled back hair.
“Where on earth are you going, Prongs?” Sirius asks, because he’s never actually seen James use his fathers potion to use for anything other than securing a tiny braid by his ear when he’s bored. “Uh, me?” is James' eloquent reply, and Sirius wonders if his best friend has ever successfully hidden anything in his life.
That interaction quickly ended in James trying, and failing, to exit the room various times as Sirius kept teasing him. Success only came in the form of Remus, who tiredly made his way from Sirius’ bed (where he'd been mindlessly chatting to Peter) to his own and muttered something about having a quick kip. While Sirius was utterly distracted by the way the low morning sunshine played with Remus’ curls, which was a totally normal and valid distraction mind you, James left.
Nothing much happened in the few hours that James was gone which means that, as he feared, Sirius has very much not spontaneously fallen into a pit of insanity and his eyes are not playing a trick on him.
“What the fuck?” is all he says, his words quiet but amplified by Peter's nods. Apparently, in the hours that his best friend had been gone he'd found himself with an armful of Regulus Black — Quite literally, because a slow look towards James reveals that the hand he wasn’t using to fan himself was holding Regulus up against his back, presumably having carried the boy on his back all the way to the Gryffindor tower. “Help” James says and Sirius, well Sirius is completely distraught. Regulus is sleeping on James’ shoulder and he looks so sickeningly young that Sirius has to once again physically hold himself back from letting emotions surge out of him in very unpleasant ways.
He looks at James for an explanation, sparing one small second towards Remus’ bed to confirm he’s still sleeping and the noise hadn’t disturbed anything (other than Sirius’ sanity and progress on the essay, of course). When his gray eyes land on James again, his friend takes it as incentive to launch into an explanation, looking like he genuinely hasn’t even considered letting Regulus down from where he’s holding him, like it’d be blasphemy to take a second's rest and lay him down.
James’ story is that, allegedly, he’d been on his way to do “something” and ran into Regulus at the Potions classroom, which had been completely empty courtesy of canceled classes. Suspecting Regulus of being up to no good, words like “evil” and “sly” were thrown around but had none of the bite that one would expect, James barged into the room. There, he found Regulus sound asleep as the Potion he’d brewed quietly bubbled in its cauldron.
The issue came when he’d tried to wake Regulus and was met with puffy eyes and reddened cheeks on an otherwise sickly pale face. Immediately, he’d put his hand against Regulus’ forehead like he’d seen Madam Pomfrey do to his friends and winced at the heat. From there (stopping the story at Sirius’ plead to move on from describing exactly what his brother’s sleeping for looked like — reminding James that he’s quite literally looking at it right now), he carried Regulus to Pomfrey, assuming she would know what to do since James’ knowledge unfortunately stopped at recognizing signs of potential illness.
Sparing no details of exactly how Regulus stirred, and how Pomfrey reacted, and how James had to try multiple times to feed Regulus the medicine but he really didn’t mind because Regulus wasn’t actually mean about the refusal and did Sirius know that his nose scrunches when he’s shaking his head? James’ told Sirius the healer's conclusion - Regulus had contracted vaporem febrem.
Really, it was a fancy way of saying his idiot brother had spent too much time in the Potion’s classroom, probably stubbornly trying to master some difficult assignment, without the proper ventilation and gave himself a sickness from the various ingredients wafting in the air. The problem, bold and underlined and terrifying, is that this fever can only be healed with an antidote that his idiot brother is allergic to. And the other problem, which is becoming more and more apparent as Regulus stirs from James’ shoulder, is that the fever makes you almost completely unaware (or at least completely unconcerned) of your surroundings and makes you lose all inhibitions. Students at Hogwarts had dubbed the illness "Vertigo Fever" for the way it's often compared to the feeling of standing at the edge of a tall cliff, ecstatic at the closeness to the stars, like you’d stand on the tips of your feet and graze their light, like you'd say anything to bridge the distance but almost immediately looking down and being sick at the distance between the cliff and the ground below.
Not quite in the way alcohol does, running through Sirius’ bloodstream at parties and making his friends (or, just Remus) look sparkling under the lowlights candles in the Gryffindor Tower. More so, in the way those herbs that his friends sneak in from Muggle towns do, letting Sirius let loose in ways he’d never been allowed to.
Madam Pomfrey sent James’ off with promises of checking how Regulus feels every day but all she could do was tell them to wait it out. The fever would not last long, they just had to take care of Regulus in the meantime. “So, I just…” James is saying, not bothering to catch his breath, “I brought him here.. I mean, he has no control over what he says right now — well, Poppy said it’s like he’s on veritaserum as long as he’s sick. And I,'' He's still not stopping, barreling through his explanation and giving zero time for Sirius to adjust. But, it’s alright, because this is how James works and Sirius has never been one to fall behind. “I figured he wouldn’t enjoy being this vulnerable in public, and that you’d want to track his healing.”
Control , Sirius thinks, James is giving him the chance to take care of this, of his brother. He could walk Regulus to the Slytherin dorms, he’s sure his brother’s friends would take fine care of him. He could, but he won’t, and James seems to notice that shift in Sirius’ expression since he decides to let go of Regulus and gently guide him to sitting on his bed. Sirius is about to protest, insisting that he can give his bed to Regulus and James shouldn’t have to give up his space but Regulus meets his eye and shuts him up.
It’s not his brother's usual sneer, not even the hardened line of his eye when they have those silent conversations. Instead, the silver of his brother’s eyes is sparkling, wide pupils and long lashes. He looks so sweet . It’s weird, to look at his brother who had recently turned seventeen and be met with the same expression he had grown up with, the same innocence and unabashed curiosity that he had not seen in almost six years.
“Sirius?” Regulus sniffles, rubbing the sleep from his eyes with a closed first and wincing when he feels the cold of his silver rings hitting his skin. He sniffles one more and James is immediately conjuring up a tissue box. “You took me to him,” he says, to James, and shoots him a toothy grin that Sirius swears he has not seen since starting Hogwarts. “Thank you, Ja'm.”
It's hard to tell what Regulus called James, his words punctuated by a decisive sniff, so Sirius elects to brush it off completely. He leans back against James’s pillow, making a pleased sound at the comfort and almost immediately his skin goes prickly with goose bumps from a sudden chill. “I think i'm ‘icky'’ His brother says, muffled as James throws three blankets over him because Circe forbid Regulus Black feels a second of discomfort. "Wanted to..." Regulus continues, frowning at his words like they're alien to him. "Wanted to see you."
He means he’s sick, Sirius notes, not far enough removed from his family to forget that's what his younger brother had always said when he fell ill, trying to slyly distract Sirius into drawing a bath for him. “Sleep, Regulus. We'll talk when you're less tired.”
“He didn't sleep last night.” James supplies.
Sirius is ready to nod agreement but when he turns from his, now sleeping, brother to his best friend he notices the splotches of red dotting his face. It's hardly noticeable, but when paired with dilated pupils and the worried tug of his lips - it's something. Sirius can't quite put his finger on it but he's ready to push, ready to get to the bottom of James’ behavior these few weeks and why on Godric’s good and valiant name he'd been the one to find Sirius’ estranged (he's being maybe a bit dramatic) brother.
He's about to ask, a weird mix of “You're a horrible liar”, did he just tell me Regulus’ sleep schedule and “Tell me who you've been seeing!” running around in his brain with no rhythm or rhyme. A head pops out from the curtains around the bedpost in front of them and Sirius’ mind goes blissfully blank.
Remus mumbles a soft greeting and demands an explanation for the whole new roommate they seem to have procured - James is happy to supply, probably glad to get Sirius's eyes off of him. He launches into the story, lacking no detail and going into no less than ten different tangents about precisely what Regulus was doing and how he looked doing it. Sirius pays it absolutely no mind more than happy to look at Remus as he takes in this new information, mind working hard to connect the dots that Sirius would've surely threaded together had it not been for the way that Remus’ arm left a mark on his cheek and his sweater had ridden up during his sleep.
This is the third time in one day that Remus has made Sirius lose his train of thought, he really ought to talk to his friend about that - get him to stop being so stupidly distracting.
- - -
Half an hour later finds Regulus asleep while James dedicates himself to standing guard, Remus working on his own assignments while Sirius is only capable of writing one more word before he’s stumbling out of the dormitory. Sirius barshes into the girls dormitory with such force that he almost trips over Marlene who'd been attempting to open the door. “Merlin,” she says, somewhat exasperated but not too upset to not grin at him. “Heya Sirius! Did ‘ya need help with the makeup?” Mary asks from the desk the moment she realizes it's him who's walked in, her own makeup is flawless with lines of yellow and blue sparkles shining against the rich brown of her skin — as always, Mary looks beautiful.
Sirius shakes his head, recognizing that the mess of clothes on the beds and chairs and the makeup scattered all around can be credited to the Quidditch match he'd completely forgotten about. He zeros in on Lily sitting on her bed, a dip in the duvet where Sirius assumes Marlene was sitting between Lily's legs.
“I need your help, Red,” She must notice something in his eyes, a manic glint in the grayish blue. She pats the space in front of her on the bed and shakes her head at Marlene in a gesture to let them be. When Sirius scrambles to the bed, all clumsy legs and shaking hands, she closes the curtains and casts a silencing spell. “I'm here,” she says, and she doesn't touch him - she never does when he's so shaken - but she puts her hand next to his and smiles.
He breathes, just for a moment, and looks at her. He doesn't want to say it, doesn't want to speak the reality of his situation into this room that's keeping him safe while his brother's sleeping form lies across the common room. “It's your brother, then,” Lily says, because of course she knows.
“He's, erm — He's sick, I guess. Vertigo fever.” Short sentences, more pauses, Lily winces, and Sirius is reminded of fifth year when the same thing happened to her as she tried endlessly to impress Slughorn (who was impressed with her regardless). “James found him,” another oddity he refuses to acknowledge. “Took him to our room, said it was better for him to ride out the haziness where he's safe.”
“Oh, Sirius,” Lily sighs, and just like that, she understands the complexity that he'd struggled to put into words when James dropped Regulus in front of him, when he tucked Regulus into his bed when Regulus thanked James for taking him to his older brother. There’s a friendship they’ve formed over estranged siblings, built up slowly from the moment in third year that he’d found Lily crying with a crumpled up letter from her sister by her feet. He’s glad for it, especially in moments like these when he’s so painfully reminded of the boy he’d lost when he left his rotten house. Regulus understands you had to go , Lily and James had told him. He just doesn’t want to face it, Remus whispered back.
The thing about Vertigo fever is that it functions much like a regular cold while obliterating all the walls you’ve built around you. If we take the wall metaphor a bit further, Sirius figures Vertigo figure equivalent to someone casting alohomora on the door right in the middle of your hesitation – it’s not quite out of your control that your thoughts and feelings come spilling out, but you can’t be blamed because well , it’s not breaking out if the door is open.
A selfish part of Sirius is thankful his brother is nearby because he's missed him, and Regulus can’t be a prick if all his defenses are down. Which, yes, he acknowledges is a weird fucked-up thought but he has not seen the little boy he more than half raised since running away and, truly, Sirius would rather his parents lock him up in azkaban and throw away the key than never see that sweet smile again.
“Talk to him,” Lily says, using the pad of her thumb to wipe at some of the mascara that had smeared further down than Sirius intended in the commotion of the last hour. “When I had the fever, all I wanted was my sister, all I wanted was to talk and be cared for. I can’t speak for either of you but it’s worth a shot, Black.” Sirius nods, because he’s not sure what else he’s meant to do - he’s resolved not to cry but that’s one of the things in life that falls into the category of what cannot be controlled.
He leaves Lily with a smile, knowing she won’t expect excuses or explanations from him as he tumbles off her bed. Marlene quickly reclaims her spot and waits as the redhead hums and goes back to fixing the mess she’d made with eye crayon. He’s still smiling when he steps into the dorm, completely resigned to talking to Regulus, scared he’ll never get the chance to again.
Sirius should have truly learned by this afternoon to not have any expectations of what he can walk into when going to his dormitory, or going anywhere where his friends are. Nothing ever really ends up going his way. Seeing the girls preparing for the upcoming match was a hit of cold water to the face, a rush of adrenaline even if he won;t be able to watch. He’s excited to walk in and see James jumping around in a hurry to catch the players before the game begins - and there’s a quiet but insistent ring in his ear reminding him that Remus as the commentator will also be getting ready, might even let Sirius run pomade over his loose and messy curls.
What he steps into is not that. He opens the door to the hushed argument of Peter and Remus, which already sends alarms blaring. He looks left to James still at Regulus’s bed side, to Regulus sitting up and grinning.