—x—x—x—
If you’re anything like me,
You couldn’t recognise the face of your love
Until they stripped you of your shiny paint,
Threw your victory flag away
And you saw the ones who wanted you anyway…
Darling, later on you will thank your stars for
that frightful day.
—x—x—x—
May 16th, 1975
Before, everything was a haze. He sees it all now, in fits and starts and small, bright flashes of images that hurt his eyes, but he’s not sure he’ll remember it clearly. Sirius isn’t sure if that is a blessing or a curse. He’ll look back on it, perhaps, someday far in the future, when the pain doesn’t leave claw marks across his chest. But now, he’s below the surface, drowning.
All he can see is antlers, teeth, the back of Snape’s head, the bald-faced disbelief of Remus’ face when he told him the truth. The way that the hand he was admiring mere days ago closes into a fist and knocks him across the jaw so quickly he would’ve thought he’d imagined it if not for the crunching sound, the stinging of his nose and the blood that fell to the ground. He relished in it for a moment. He’d imagined that physical pain would soothe the emotional rawness he felt, but he was wrong. Instead, he just felt like an idiot with a broken nose in distress.
He wanders back to the Gryffindor common room as if he’s not truly in his own body. Sirius distantly wonders if this is what the Bloody Baron and Peeves feel like; he wonders if this is what it is like to be a ghost. Sirius Black has felt a lot of things in his short life, but never invisible. He’s always filled up every corner of the room. Now, he feels smaller that a mouse. He ignore’s Mary and Marlene’s tittering, their closings and gasps of shock at the blood that is steadily dripping onto his shirt, storming straight past them towards the 5th year boys dormitory. The door swings open behind some force he didn’t know he possessed, and instead of the usual commotion - the pure vibrancy that the four boys usually produce effortlessly - he’s met with silence. James is sat on his bed, eyes red-rimmed, face rubbed raw, looking out of place without his glasses. It strikes Sirius as odd that James is sat in his uniform, but then he looks to the side of James and is met with the furious gaze of Lily Evans.
Lily springs to her feet, her face turning more and more red. ‘I cannot believe you, Sirius Black. How fucking dare you. You are everything that I thought you were but prayed you wouldn’t be - you are just like them.’ She whispers furiously, as if she can’t muster her hoarse voice to come out any louder.
‘Lily- please, wait-‘
She ignores him, and she’s out into the corridor in one deft swoop of her robes, her boots echoing on the cobblestones outside.
He looks up again, trying to ignore the growing sting in his eyes.
‘James?’ He asks.
James’ gaze stays firmly on the floor. If the worst thing hadn’t just happened, he’d probably find it funny, or at least concerning at how still James currently was. His teachers had probably prayed to see him in a moment like this. But there’s not a single ounce of humour in the room. It feels charged only with barely concealed rage.
‘I- I just wanted to say-‘
‘Don’t.’ James grits out, his voice hoarse. ‘I cant speak to you right now.’
Sirius is beginning to feel desperate. Losing Remus is one thing, but losing his brother? He’s not sure how much his fragile state can take.
‘But-‘ Sirius grapples, trying to do anything to salvage what has been shattered.
‘Don’t.’ James says again quietly, and then his curtains are pulled shut, and Sirius feels the physical weight of his aloneness.
Peter’s in here somewhere, he’d bet money on it, but he knows that Peter won’t reveal himself until he wants to. He always transformed into a rat when he was upset - he claimed that emotions were much more straightforward as an animal. Sirius knew what he’d done, however. He knew the severity of what he’d done. He knew how many people he’d hurt. He didn’t even feel a shred of rage towards Snape anymore. All he felt was a vast lake of numbness.
His muffled footsteps of his bare socks on the ground felt so much louder in the silence of their dorm. Sirius stripped himself of his bloodied clothes, threw on a jumper he knew wasn’t his and immediately clawed it back off again (because it was Remus’s, and no one was ever, ever going to forgive the traitor that ruined their lives) before pulling on the first thing he could find that didn’t smell like him. (Pinewood and rose water, like he could ever forget.) Sirius collapsed on his bed in a heap, and immediately fell into a deep, fitful sleep.
Tomorrow, the corridors would be lined with crowds whispering about what on earth had happened to Sirius Black. Did he actually sleep outside all night, and that’s why he looked terrible? Was he actually in a gang? The whispers festered, but none of them got any closer to the truth. All anyone knew is that Sirius Black - one of the most popular guys in school, ego the size of a small continent and the most dreadful flirt Hogwarts had ever seen - was missing his piercings, his bravado and his band of friends.
For the first time in Hogwarts history, Sirius Black was not a fable or an idol, he was just a boy.
—x—x—x—
The rest of the term goes like this:
The sun breaks through the clouds, and the weather gets warmer. Instead of wearing as little clothes as possible and flexing his (albeit skinny) biceps, Sirius Black stays fully clothed and in the shade. His once olive like complexion stays ashen grey. Now, instead of running around Hogwarts like a mad man, Sirius can be often found in the library. This comes as a shock to the other Hogwarts residents - Sirius always had top grades, and he never seemed to study, so why did he start now?
Sirius wakes early each morning, trying to catch James before his run, but he’s always met with the same answers. A deft shake of the head, a simple ‘fuck off, Padfoot’, or just being plainly ignored. He tries not to let it bother him. James has a big heart, and he hopes, prays, that one day, it will be big enough to let him back in.
Remus, on the other hand, he worries about a lot more. Remus famously wakes late ever morning - bed-headed and raspy - and quickly gets dressed before heading down for breakfast. He’d once told Sirius that he’d rather have a month of McGonagals detentions than start his day hungry, cause he always woke up famished, and Sirius had rapidly added it to his ever-growing encyclopaedia of Moony. (Not that he’d ever have written it down. Had Mary or Marlene found it, they would’ve teased him incessantly. But he did think about it. Many times.)
So, Sirius tried to talk to him in the window while he got ready for breakfast, where he could speak to him privately without announcing it to the world. The first morning, Remus hadn’t responded to him at all. He’d looked terrible, a fresh, angry red scar on his cheek, pale skin and sunken eyes. He looked entirely numb. Sirius tried to start a conversation three separate times before Peter barked at him, ‘Give it a rest, for Gods sake.’
The second morning wasn’t much better. Remus still ignored him, and James pulled his slipper off his foot and threw it at Sirius’ head when Sirius tried to block the door and prevent them from leaving. The third morning bought a similar result. By the fifth, Remus simply muttered, ‘Just leave me alone.’
And well, Sirius had stopped trying after that. The least he could do was respect Remus’ wishes, even if it felt like he was being physically torn in two. He wasn’t sure if all the girls knew, but Lily certainly did, and either way, it seemed they’d all made a pact to ignore him anyway. He’d tried to speak to Mary a few weeks after the incident while she waited outside their charms classroom with Marlene, but Mary stomped on his foot and Marlene put a wicked tongue tying curse on him that took all day to wear off. He didn’t even try with Peter. He knew better than anyone else how Peter felt about loyalty.
Speaking to his best friends was a lost cause. The girls were too. And he didn’t really like anyone outside of his group. They’d never seemed to actually care about him even before the incident. He heard everyone’s titterings, of course, but he never listened to them. How could he truly care about anyone’s opinion other than his friends? How could he be Sirius Black, the popular, cocky, well-loved boy without the people that forged him? It wouldn’t have been right.
So, he let that version of himself die alongside his friendships.
He morphed back into the boy he used to be before he went to Hogwarts; not quiet, exactly, certainly not passive, but less… vibrant. He nodded along in his lessons, threw all the love letters he received each morning at breakfast into the fire in the common room as soon as he could. He’d began going to bed earlier, not that he could ever sleep. He spent half of his time hating being awake, being plagued by thoughts, and the other half of his time evading sleep, terrified of his dreams. He’d stare at the moon for so long that it was the only thing he saw when he closed his eyes, too.
Because in his dreams, all he saw was him. They usually started as memories - Remus, last summer term, grinning at him from behind a copy of Dorian Gray. Remus, at Christmas, taring open into the new Bowie album Sirius had spent the last of his small allowance on, tearing up at the sight of it. Remus, spinning Marlene around and around while Dancing Queen blared out of James’ stereo, laughing with his whole chest. Remus, Remus, Remus.
And then the dreams changed. Then it was Remus’ face when he awoke the next morning, his eyes filling with tears of disbelief, then rage, then ocean deep sadness. Grief for the life he could’ve had and lost. The air flew out from beneath Sirius feet, and then he was looking at Lily holding Remus’ head in her lap while he sobbed and sobbed and sobbed. He was looking at the twisted sneer on Snape’s face. He was looking at the utter betrayal on Remus’s. He was watching Lily say ‘you are just like them’ over and over and over again until the words are etched into him, deep beneath his skin, right into the veins of his sluggish, black blood.
And then, the dreams change, and they aren’t about Remus at all, yet Sirius still feels his presence in every single one. He dreams about his little brother, and he dreams about how his beaming smile has turned into nothing more than a grim line. He dreams about his cousin Narcissa, and the marriage she never wanted, the girl he couldn’t save. He dreams about Andromeda, and the letters he never got round to replying to. His mind replays them over and over and over again, all the people he’s let down, until the monster of his guilt eats him alive. And at the end, every single time, he sees Remus’ face heavy set with sorrow. Wide brown eyes staring straight into his. Chapped lips slightly parted. And every time, just like clockwork, Sirius curves one hand round his neck, one on the side of his cheek, and kisses him straight on the mouth.
Each morning he sits up bolt upright in a cold sweat. And with each dream, he knows he’s more doomed.
—x—x—x—
30th June, 1975
On the final day of term, Sirius’ sense of dread reaches new heights. His friends were his one solace, from his mother and the rest of his family. Without his only shelter, he’s not sure he can bare it. He spends the evening before packing and repacking, and the morning of doing the same. Sirius has never had to do it alone before; Remus or James or Peter had always helped him, but this time he stood quietly on the far side of the room while his friends laughed softly without him.
He’s stopped watching them, at this point. Stopped watching them be Marauders without him and stopped watching them experience joy, and stoped watching them living, because how could he ever do that himself without them?
It’s easy enough to distract himself with thoughts of what new punishments are waiting for him at home. Thinking of ways to get Regulus to talk to him, even if he just insults him the whole time (he never thought he’d be so desperate just for someone’s voice to be directed at him).
It’s when he’s folding his last pair of socks that he finds something hard inside of them. Sirius realises with a start that it’s the remaining chocolate he’d been saving for the day after the full moon when Remus was often anxious and exhausted. Somewhere, deep inside his encyclopaedia of Moony, Sirius had overheard Remus telling Madame Pomfrey that chocolate always made him feel better, and he’d been carrying it on him ever since. Remus had never questioned the gifts, only smiled at him softly with his deep brown eyes.
At that thought, it was suddenly unbearable to so close to Remus yet so, so far away. Before he could even really think about it, he’d shaken the chocolate frogs out of him sock, bunched them in his hand and sputtered out,
‘Moony, can I talk to you?’
‘Don’t call him that!’ Peter instantly spat out, fury in his eyes.
Remus looked startled for a moment before sobering. ‘It’s alright Pete.’ He gestured to the door expectantly.
James and Peter stood stock still.
He raised an eyebrow. ‘Guys, could you give me and Sirius a moment alone?’
James mumbled something before reluctantly grabbing Peters sleeve and dragging him out the door.
Remus’ expression was unreadable. ‘Go on then.’
A millions thoughts flashed through Sirius head. Remus’ disbelief. His anger. The kiss they never shared that plagued his every dream.
‘I’m just-‘ he choked. ‘I’m just so sorry! I’ll never forgive myself for what I did to you, and- and you don’t have to forgive me either, but I just need you to know how much I regret what I did. I betrayed you in a way that I never thought I could, and I betrayed myself too.’ Sirius rushed out.
He took a deep breath. ‘I acted like them, and it will haunt me for the rest of my life. I know it will haunt you too. I- I just want you to know how sor-‘
‘Padfoot.’ Remus cut him off. Sirius’ breath hitched at the nickname. ‘I hear you, ok?’ He said quietly. ‘I don’t think I forgive you yet. It’s a lot to process, and, well, what you did is the worst thing that’s ever happened to me.’
Sirius lowered his eyes. ‘I understand. I’ll leave you alone now.’ He turned back towards his case. Stupid, stupid, stupid, he thought to himself, you poison everything you touch. They were right, they were always right, your veins run black-
He felt a warmth on his shoulder.
‘But,’ Remus said, so quietly that Sirius almost strained to hear him, ‘That doesn’t mean I don’t want to be friends. I just- maybe not right now. But, maybe you could write, or something? And, you should know that I’ve told James and Peter a million times to stop giving you the cold shoulder.’ He paused. ‘It wasn’t right, what you did. It was terrible. But- god, I don’t want to hate you anymore, Sirius. I’m trying with every part of me to not hate you.’
That startled a laugh out of Sirius. He nodded.
‘Ok,’ Sirius said, a little bit breathless. ‘I’ll write. Every day, if you want me to. And just so you know, I really am so sorry-‘
‘-if you say sorry one more time, I’ll take it back and never speak to you again.’
‘Ok.’ Sirius smiled.
Remus returned it tentatively. ‘Ok.’
—x—x—x—
5th July, 1975
Dear Remus,
I hope this letter finds you well. How are your parents? I miss Hope. You said to stop apologising, but. I know your dad doesn’t like too many owls, but I don’t care. I promised you a letter every day, so that’s what I’ll do.
I hope everything is going well at home. You always complain about the Welsh weather, but I don’t think it’s got anything on London weather. Regulus thinks it’s because of the pollution. Do you think the reason you’re so tall is because that clean rain waters you like a weed. Not that you’re a weed of course. A flower. A plant. You know what I mean.
Things here are the same as always. Mother seems to think that because her little spy has reported my good behaviour for the past couple of months, that means I’ll be compliant to her bidding. Unfortunately for her, she was wrong. After I shoved an apple in Kreachers mouth, tied his hands behind his back and sent him down the stairs on a dinner tray, I think she got the message.
Regulus won’t get involved in any of my schemes to spite her, so I suppose I’ll have to do it all by myself. (Do you remember that time you managed time you spelled all of Rosier’s food to grow legs and arms, slap him in the face and run off his plate? I think I’ll try that next.)
Love,
Yours,
Sirius.
P.S I know you said not to say it, but I’m sorry. There. I’ve got it out my system, and now I swear not to ever say it again.
P.P.S, Please don’t take it back!
—x—x—x—
12th July, 1975
Sirius,
Wow, when you said you were going to write everyday, you really did mean it. Your poor owl looks run ragged. Just so you know, I’ve sent mine instead, and I’ve kept yours in the greenhouse so she can have a rest.
What did I tell you about apologising? I’ll let it slide, but just this once.
I’m not sure that it’s the Welsh air that’s made me grow, but if it is, that does explain why you are so short. On the other hand, have you ever heard of genetics? Actually, don’t answer that.
My days here are long and boring. We weren’t speaking when it happened, but a few months ago Dad had another bout of his paranoia and has now renounced magic altogether. We’re doing all the farm work by hand now, and it takes forever. I’m always taking out my wand and doing things with magic when he’s not looking. We’re so far out of town that no muggles will see us anyway. Me and Ma are hoping that this phase passes - but you know Lyall. He’s as paranoid as they come.
You know better than to piss her off, Sirius. I know I can’t stop you. I know it’s what keeps you alive
Remus.
P.S. Lily told me that Marlene saw Snape at an anti-werewolf rally in Diagon Alley. Apparently they held up banners saying werewolves should be kept in chains. This is the life I have to live now. I don’t want you to apologise, but I won’t shield you from reality of it all.
—x—x—x—
12th July, 1975
Dear Padfoot,
Moony told me that you guys are talking again, and I’ve got to say it, Im so glad. You know that I love you, mate, but I had to stand with Moony through all of this. But enough of all that. We don’t need to rehash it again.
How are things with you? I hope that your mum hasn’t been terrible to you. I don’t know if she’s reading these letters, so I won’t say anymore, but please let me know as soon as you can if you are safe. I hope Regulus is well too.
Summer’s been amazing so far. Me and Peter have been practising a new move we found in Quidditch Weekly and I reckon by the end of the summer I’ll have it good enough to put into matches. Pete says he’s had enough of quidditch already, but I don’t believe him. (Can you ever have enough of quidditch? Exactly. Didn’t think so.) I can’t wait for you to be back on the team next term.
My dad’s testing out a new Sleekeazy potion at the moment. The first time he tried it, it turned his hair purple. The second time, it made him bald. Since he has no hair left to test it on, he’s turned on me. I’ve managed to leg it every time he’s gotten near me with it so far, but I don’t think my chances are good. Him and mum are plotting to get me, I’m sure of it.
I know this might be a sore subject, but I still wanted to ask, have you heard from Lily at all? I know you both fell out last year, but she hasn’t replied to a single owl since the start of the summer. I know it’s probably something to do with her muggle family, but I’m still worried. Things were only just starting to settle down between us.
I’ve missed you, mate.
Lots of love,
Prongs.
—x—x—x—
17th July, 1975
Dear Prongs,
God, I’ve missed you, mate. I understand why you sided with Remus. If I was in your position, I would’ve done it a million times over too. Words can’t express how sorry I am - not just to Remus, but to all of you. But you’re right, we don’t need to rehash things.
I’m glad you’re having a good summer. The quidditch sounds great, but I don’t think I’ll be rejoining in September. I’ve had a lot of time to think, and I need to get my priorities straight before I commit to something again. And besides, quidditch was always something you loved more than me. Maybe my spot on the team will go to someone who loves it just as much as you.
Mother was pretty much the same as always at the start of summer, but she’s been in a dreadful mood all week. Perhaps she thinks that if she makes her punishments move severe, I’ll stop trying to piss her off. Unfortunately, she’s dead wrong. That just makes me want to bother her even more. I’ve still got plenty of pranks up my sleeve, but I could definitely do with some recommendations from the Marauders extraordinaire himself.
I have to keep these letters short at the moment. I’ve been posting them and receiving them from behind the bush by the back wall of the garden, but Regulus found out. He didn’t want to tell her about it, but she punished it out of him. I won’t be able to post this until I find a new spot, but please don’t stop sending letters. I’m sure I’ll find a way.
Love, Padfoot.
—x—x—x—
1st August, 1975
Dear Sirius,
Me, Mary and Marlene had a day out in the city yesterday! We went to Cardiff, since that’s closest for Marlene and she has to use muggle transport when she’s back with her family. It would’ve been about 4 hours driving for me and Mary, but she managed to use a portkey from Liverpool to my village, and then we used the floo from one of my Ma’s old friends into the city centre.
I’ve never spent much time in the city. Only a few days for my Dad’s work trip when I was little, and I’ve only ever been apparated directly into platform 9 3/4, so I don’t that counts as ever really going to London. There were so many amazing things there, Sirius. It was so busy and buildings were taller than the sky. There were so many shops that it puts Hogsmede to shame. In all the excitement, I forgot that not as many people speak Welsh in the south compared to the north. The poor man I tried to order with in the coffee shop looked terrified, and Mary teased me for the rest of the day.
How is home? You didn’t say, but I can tell things aren’t good from your last letter. Is she reading these? If so, can I tell her to fuck off?
It’s been 3 days since I received a letter from you, Padfoot. You don’t actually have to write every day, but I’ve loved reading your letters, but it’s nice to know you’re okay.
I’m starting to get a little bit worried. Write soon.
Love, Remus.
—x—x—x—
3rd August, 1975
Dear Sirius,
Hi! I’m going to keep this letter short because I don’t know if your Mum will let you read it. When I met up with Remus and Marlene, he told me that you guys are friends again (which i’m thrilled about, by the way) but your Mum is still as batshit as ever.
I’m sure Remus has already filled you in, but we had the best day out in Cardiff. Marlene found this super cute leather jacket in a charity shop, and Remus bought us both welsh cakes and we went to this adorable cafe for lunch. Remus tried to order our coffee’s in Welsh and the poor server (who was drop dead gorgeous, by the way) laughed and said he couldn’t understand him. Remus went so red he almost looked like a fire extinguisher. I didn’t hear all of it, since me and Marlene went to find a table, but the two of them ended up getting on so well that the server paid for Remus’ coffee! (And you wouldn’t believe it, but by the time he got to our table Remus was even redder). I spent the rest of the day wandering around the city and dragging Marlene out of clothes shops, and Remus out of book shops.
Back home is boring. My city is nowhere near as nice as Cardiff - not that I can ever go out and really see it, since i’m babysitting my step sisters practically every single day.
Remus told me not to ask you too much in my letters, so I won’t. But I do hope you know that you can tell me anything.
Lots of love,
Mary
—x—x—x—
Dear Moony,
Sorry if my writing’s a little bit shaking, and I’m sorry it’s been so long. Mother discovered that I’d found a new way to send letters, and as punishment she decided to render my writing hand quite useless. Regulus has been more distant than ever, but he slid some Murtlap Essence under my door last night, so it’s nice to know that the wicked old bat hasn’t killed him off yet.
Your day out in Cardiff sounds fantastic. Im so jealous. I got to see a bit of London at the start of the holidays, but Kreacher found out that I’d been sneaking out so now I’m practically under lock and key. Regulus too, not that he was really going anywhere.
I know we haven’t spoken about it, but I really want to know, do you know anymore about the anti-werewolf protests? Like you said, I should know about this stuff. If you don’t want to talk about it, that’s fine. But please know that you can trust me. I’ll keep your secrets, Moony.
She dragged Regulus away to one of her annoying little meetings yesterday, which gave me a great but of time to stick all of her bedroom furniture to the ceiling. I’ve recently discovered how to do permanent sticking charms after overhearing Bella do one at dinner last week. It’s not perfect yet, and they don’t usually stick longer than a few days, but I reckon i’ve still got time to perfect it. And, well, if spell decides to fail while Mother is trying to dislodge her wardrobe from the ceiling, and it happens to crush her, I don’t think anyone will mourn.
I’m so excited to see you all in September. It’s not so long to endure now. Maybe then you can show me the muscles that all that farm work must have given you.
Love, Padfoot.
—x—x—x—
19th August, 1975
Dear Padfoot,
I don’t know if you got my last letter, or the ones before that, but it’s been weeks. Padfoot, we’re all really worried about you. We’ve spoken to practically everyone we can think of, and we’ve figured out that the last letter you send was that one you sent to me. I really, really don’t want to assume the worst, but things didn’t sound good in that last letter.
Please write me back.
Love, Moony.
—x—x—x—
23rd August, 1975
Dear Padfoot,
I’m seriously worried about you now. Twenty three days of nothing. Effie and Monty are practically going out of their minds with worry. They’ve contacted the authors, but since your parents are your legal guardians, there’s nothing they can do.
I didn’t realise how much your letters were keeping me sane until they were gone. God, I’ve practically been talking to the walls without them. I’ve been useless on the farm, useless to my friends, useless in every aspect.
I’m getting desperate here. I need to know that you’re alright. Please write me back.
Yours, Moony.
—x—x—x—
25th August, 1975
Moony
Stop writing she’s reading the letters I can’t stop her it’s only getting worse
I’ll see you in September
Yours, Padfoot
—x—x—x—
26th August, 1975
When Sirius wakes, he’s gasping for breath as though he’d been held under water. He’s ready for a fight instantly. His fists clenched, his forehead damp with sweat. He thinks he might be shouting something, but his sleep-fogged brain hasn’t yet caught up with his mouth.
‘You’re alright, dear,’ comes a soft female voice.
Sirius head swings around fast. He sees Effie sat in a rocking chair beside his bed, smiling at him kindly. The panic that seized his brain softens. That is, until the door came swinging open.
‘Is he alright?!’ James Potter, still clad in his pyjamas, bed hair sticking up in every direction and glasses squiffy on his face. Sirius’ roaring pulse quietens for a moment.
‘He was until you came barging in, shouting like a madman!’ Effie scolds. ‘Back to bed. I’ll watch over him.’
‘No, Mum, it’s ok. You’ve been here all night. I’ll watch him now.’ James says.
Effie opens her mouth to protest.
‘Seriously. Get some sleep.’
‘Fine. But I’ll be up in a few hours to do breakfast.’ She smiles at them as she shuffles out the room.
It’s quiet for a moment. In some kind of hysterical way, Sirius thinks that Remus would’ve killed for James to be quiet back in their dorm room. Now, the silence feels akin to too-thin glass, uncomfortably familiar to his family home; if it gets broken, someone is going to get hurt. He takes a breath then, reminds himself that if James is here, he’s safe.
It doesn’t work. Sirius stares deftly at the ceiling.
She could find him, Sirius knows. Force him to come back into that house, force one arm behind his back and the other on the now bloodstained table, push the blunt tip of her wand into the flesh of his arm and hold it there until the swirling black ink matched his cousins’, empty eye sockets staring back at him.
Sirius hears the shift of James’ pyjama shirt as he moves closer, feels the pair of worried eyes run over his bandaged arm, shoulder, face. He’s deeply embarrassed. Shame that pumps through his veins like sludge, soaking every part of his skin. James has seen him in bad ways before, but nothing ever like this. He wonders for a moment if James has ever taken a beating from his parents before, whether he’s every brushed death before, but he pushes it away quickly. Of course James hasn’t. Sirius doubts that anyone he knows could ever share in the ocean deep numbness he’s feeling right now.
‘Mate,’ James says quietly. ‘You don’t have to say anything, but-‘
Sirius speaks directly to the beige ceiling, tonelessly. ‘How long have I been asleep, James?’
James doesn’t say anything for a moment.
‘You’ve been in and out for a while now.’ He says. ‘You got here last night, somehow flooed in. But you were unconscious when you got here.’
‘James,’ Sirius says softly. ‘How long have I been asleep?’
‘About eighteen hours.’ James replies. ‘You got here at about six, just as Mum was serving up tea. There was a moment-‘ James breath hitched. ‘There was a moment that we- you-. We thought you were dead.’
Sirius says nothing.
‘You were so still, so motionless.’ Sirius doesn’t need to look up, he can already hear the tears building in James voice. ‘And it wasn’t until Mum gave you a good shake that you came round. You were- you were quite upset. Gave Dad a good fright - a nasty black eye, too - so he gave you a sleeping potion. It worked, but you were so worked up that every so often you’d come around in this kind of daze, shouting.’
‘Tell Monty I’m sorry, please. I would’ve never hurt him on purpose.’
‘Of course, mate!’ James exclaims. ‘He knows that, of course he does.’
They sit in silence for quite some time after that. Sirius listening to the rise and fall of his own breathing, quietly marvelling at the fact that his lungs are still stubbornly pulling air. He remembers now, a time when he didn’t think they’d ever do that again. It’s all coming back in fits and starts. It started with his mother summoning him into the drawing room, telling him that there would be consequences to his actions, telling him what they planned on doing to him. Then Bella pulled him down into the chair, and then his mother used Lacero, and then-
Then it begins to get a bit blurry. He remembers seeing his mother glaring down at him from behind the black spots in his vision. Regulus’ strangled voice out of sight. The click of a lock, the wet feeling of his own blood dripping down his face.
‘You were asking for Regulus,’ James whispers. ‘When you woke up in the night. You kept telling us to go save him.’
‘James,’
‘We tried, Sirius, Dad sent them an owl as soon as he could but it never made it, so then we asked Dumbledore, but he wouldn’t help. In the end we got Andy to send a letter to Narcissa, but Narcissa sent her owl back saying to never contact them again. And, well, he’s still a child, Sirius. Dad searched every book he could, called in every favour at the ministry. Your parents still have legal custody over him.’
‘They’re not my parents.’ Sirius says sharply, sitting upright for the first time, suddenly glaring at James. He could feel the throbbing of his shoulder where Bella had jinxed him so hard he’d hit the ground with alarming force, practically impaling himself on the fire poker. That was a mistake, since it clearly gave her the creative idea to put the fire poker to a different use. He could still smell the smell of his own burning flesh in his nose.
‘Of course not-‘ James started.
‘Not after what they did to me.’ Sirius spat, his hands beginning to violently shake.
‘I completely get that, Mate. It was a slip of the tongue, I-‘
‘I’d like you to leave now James.’
‘But-‘
‘LEAVE!’ Sirius roars, his vision beginning to blur. ‘GET OUT!’
He distantly hears the click of the door shutting, but he can’t come back to his senses. He cant, because his mother cut them out when she cut him open. If he were concentrating, he’d hear the chorus of worried voices outside his door. But since he’s not, all he can do is watch his shaking hands as sleep takes him once more.
—x—x—x—
30th August, 1975
Sirius’ days all begin to feel the same. He sleeps fitfully through the night, waking up and howling each time he sees his mothers face in his dreams. Effie would come in the morning in her nightdress with a damp cloth, a glass of water, and a soft smile. She’d help him clean his wounds and rub salve over his burn (she’d told him that the scar on his shoulder wasn’t bad, but he’d caught his own reflection in the mirror as she unwrapped it. The scarred tissue snaked down his shoulder like hot rain had branded its path all the way down.)
James or Peter would try and come in and talk to him, which would usually be met with silence or an outburst. Sirius tried to breathe deeply, tried to remind himself that he wasn’t there, but he felt it in his skin every time he moved, and he felt it in his mind every time the memories flashed before his eyes without his permission.
Still, James would come by and talk about quidditch with him, deftly avoiding all talk of Sirius family and summer thus far. Peter would come shortly after with his chess set and a few of Sirius favourite records. They’d tried to coax him into the vast Potter’s garden, but the sight of a sickly-hot summer day and the bright light made Sirius refuse. Instead, he’d help Monty shift through papers and organise his desk, help Effie with meals. He’d never had to cook before. He felt a certain level of pride being able to do it now.
On the second day, Dumbledore and Moody apparated into the Potter Mansion with a loud crack. It’d thrown Sirius originally. He’d been sat with Monty in his office, slowly stirring a potion, but he quickly snatched up his wand and sprung to his feet when he heard the noise.
‘Stay here,’ Monty had murmured. ‘I’m sure it’s no trouble, but I’ll make sure anyway. Give me a moment.’
Sirius wasn’t sure if the sight of them had made him feel and less nauseous.
Moody came in first. Sat him down at the desk and asked him to tell him every last detail. Sirius simply stared at him - even if he wanted to tell him, it was as though his mouth had been sealed shut.
‘Tell me, boy, and we can both go and enjoy our afternoons.’ Moody said quietly.
Silence.
‘Boy, you must understand how important it is that you tell me.’
Nothing.
Moody slammed his hands down on the table, making Sirius violently flinch. ‘TELL ME NOW, OR SO HELP ME MERLIN-‘
The office door flew open, the enraged face of Effie Potter with her wand drawn and her eyes narrowed. ‘You’re done, Alastor.’
When Moody didn’t move, Effie whispered, ‘Get out of my house before I curse you for all eternity. Get. Out. Now.’ Sirius felt an unfamiliar sense of relief bubble up inside of him. It was unusual to hear a mother care for him.
Next, it was Dumbledore. Effie tried to get him to leave - asking him politely, threatening him eventually - but Dumbledore would not be convinced.
It was strange to Sirius to be at the head of the desk while his headmaster sat in front of him, but Dumbledore didn’t seem to think it was odd at all. He simply helped himself to one of the lemon drops on the table and asked Sirius to tell him everything the moment he was ready.
Sirius told him he didn’t think he’d ever be ready. Dumbledore didn’t say anything, but appeared much older then.
‘I know.’ He said.
So Sirius talked. He told him about the big family dinner, the mark on Bella’s arm that she’d been showing off, the bitter wine served, the the room he was shoved into, the door that was locked. He told him how he tried to fight them, but it was futile. He spared the details of the torture, but it didn’t matter. The scars on his body were obvious.
He said surprisingly little, Dumbledore. And so, in return, Sirius did too. He didn’t tell him the extent of his injuries. And he didn’t tell him the reason his mother had suddenly decided that Sirius was to take the dark mark.
Dumbledore and Moody left the same way they came; with a brisk nod of their heads and a sharp crack. Sirius still felt shaky, so he watched as James and Peter played exploding snap. Their enthusiasm began to ware on his raw nerves, and eventually, Sirius began to feel himself relax the tiniest bit. Perhaps Dumbledore couldn’t save Regulus, and perhaps Sirius couldn’t save him either, but he wouldn’t be sent back there at the very least. He vows, in that moment, to stop thinking about the ones he could not save. He vows not to think about Regulus alone in that big house. It should be known that Sirius Black is not good and keeping vows.
It’s not until after he’s helped Effie set the table and pile plates of gorgeously smelling things onto the table that Sirius begins to grow suspicious. James and Peter are smirking at eachother, and Monty won’t meet his eye. Sirius counts three times that Effie’s bought up the weather since they sat down.
His stomach begins to coil as he piles food onto his plate. When Peter starts snicking into James’ shoulder and Monty loudly clears his throat, he cracks.
‘Right, will somebody tell me what is going on.’ He demands.
James looks like a deer in the headlights. ‘Nothing’s going on!’
‘It’s nothing to worry about, dear, I can promise you that,’ Effie soothes.
Monty is practically squirming in his chair now. Sirius narrows his eyes.
‘Tell me!’
Peter cracks. ‘Remusiscomingtoseeyouthereisaidit!’
‘Peter!’ Effie scolds.
‘WORMTAIL!’ James cries. ‘It was supposed to be a surprise! You’ve bloody ruined it now!’
Sirius makes a conscious effort to close his mouth. ‘Remus is coming… here?’
There’s silence for a moment. Monty sighs and shakes his head, a small grin on his face. Go on, lads. You may as well tell him now.’
Peter squirms excitedly in his seat. ‘Well, he wanted to come much earlier, but his Dad wouldn’t let him leave the farm, so he had to arrange a port key with his mum’s friend in the village, and that can take a few days-‘
‘But!’ James cuts in excitedly, ‘Me and Pete mentioned it to Dumbledore earlier while you were talking to Moody and he said he’d arrange it personally! So Remus is coming tomorrow!’
‘Wow,’ Sirius breathed. He turned on Effie. ‘And that’s ok? To have all of us in your house? I know it’s a lot of work for you-‘
‘Nonsense, Sirius. You are my son. All of you boys are.’
Sirius willed back the tears in his eye, but one scattered down his cheek anyway. ‘Thank you,’ He sniffed. ‘Thank you, thank you, thank you-‘
‘- Well, don’t be too thankful, you’ll have to share a room with him-‘
‘-Oi! Thank us too, you ungrateful prat! We’re the ones that had the balls to talk to Dumbledore!’
‘-James, language!’
‘Ow!’
It wasn’t until later, much later, when all the plates had been scrubbed and the table wiped down, when everyone had wandered up to their bedrooms and the stars shone bright in the sky that Sirius let out a big, deep breath.
Quietly, as so not to wake James who slept in the bedroom next door, he padded over to the big glass window, settling himself on the window sill. Staring the half moon above, his breath fogged up the glass.
He didn’t believe in God. He had no religion. He still prayed.
‘I know I don’t deserve him. I know I don’t deserve much of anything. I know how this will probably end badly. But please let me have him.’ He whispered to the sky. ‘I’ll never ask for anything else. Just let me have him.’
The moon simply glowed in the dark night sky.
—x—x—x—
31st August, 1975
Sirius sleeps fitfully through the rest of the night. He dreams that he’s Padfoot, chasing something through the forbidden forest that he just cannot catch. Eventually, Prongs appears behind him and steers him towards Wormtail and Moony, and Sirius accompanies them back to the shrieking shack. It doesn’t matter how far away they get, he can’t forget about what he couldn’t catch. The opportunity he missed. A black cat slinks through the broken window of the shack, but Sirius thinks little of it.
He wakes early, long before Peter (who had decided to stay the past couple days and board the train back to school with the rest of the marauders) and even before James, who was the earliest riser of them all.
Sirius tried to rest in bed, but quickly discovers he can’t keep still. Instead, he pads down to the kitchen and tries sitting in one of the Potter’s plush sofas and read the morning newspaper like he’s seen Monty do, but the words don’t seem to be going into his head at all. He stares at the blank page till his eyes water, then he tosses it aside with a mutter of frustration. By the time the clock strikes six, he’s already finished cleaning half the dishes from the night before, and is in the process of putting them away when Effie appears in the kitchen.
‘Sirius, love, what are you doing?’ She asks, bleary eyed.
‘Oh,’ Sirius says, suddenly uncertain. ‘I was doing the dishes, I hope that’s ok - I didn’t mean to impose, I’m sorry, I just didn’t want to lie in be-‘
She puts a comforting hand on his should, ‘You don’t have to apologise, Sirius. Not to me.’ Effie strides across the kitchen, suddenly looking more awake. ‘I’m sure you understand that none of the men in this house can ever stay still for very long, so I know exactly what to do.’
She brandished a spatula. ‘I’ll put you to work.’
Sirius cracked a rare grin. If someone had told him this time last year that he’d be spending his mornings helping someone with housework and enjoying it, he would’ve laughed in their face. But here he was, shuffling around the kitchen, scrubbing around cupboard handles and mopping the floor. If he was honest, he appreciated it more than anything. His mind had been on one topic all morning, one topic that he was going to see for the first time in months, and he needed the distraction desperately.
James came down in his usual loud, buzzy manner, ready for his morning run around the the village. He dropped his water bottle at the sight of Sirius cleaning.
Sirius raised an eyebrow. ‘Alright, Prongs?
James scrambled for his bottle ‘Oh yeah mate, just fine, just didn’t expect to you up this early, that’s all.’ He said as he pulled on his muddy trainers. It was like Effie could sense it.
‘JAMES POTTER, SIRIUS HAS JUST WASHED THAT FLOOR-‘
‘Alright, Alright, I’m going!’
Effie sent him into the garden next to collect flobberworms. As he worked, his mind wandered back to the same place it always did. The place it practically considered it’s home. Remus. Did Remus realise that he damage that had been done? Would he think of Sirius as a different person because of it? Well, Sirius thought. If he doesn’t think you’re a freak because mummy dearest nearly beat you to death, he defiently will if he ever finds out the other thing.
He deftly pushed the thoughts away. Instead, despite his vow, he thinks of Regulus. Would Reg ever forgive him, or was the damage too severe to repair? They weren’t on good terms before the incident, Sirius knows. Who’s to say they are now?
By the time Sirius thoughts are back to where they started, (Remus, they always come back to Remus - if Sirius were to grab his hand, what would he do? Pull away? Or-) Effie had called out for lunch. He sirius pushed the food around his plate, his thoughts whirling at an increasingly rapid pace.
‘Sirius?’ James asked.
‘Hm? Yeah?’
‘I said that me and Peter are going to fly down to the river after lunch. Are you coming?’
‘Oh yeah, I will actually.’ Sirius replied, surprising himself.
‘Really?’ Peter burst out.
‘Peter.’ James scolded.
‘What? Why is that so shocking?’
‘Well,’ James hesitated. ‘You just haven’t really been up for anything recently. We get it, of course’ He added quickly. ‘We’re just glad you’re getting back to yourself mate. That’s all.’
Sirius hummed, and finished his lunch.
The flight itself was better than Sirius expected. It felt nice to clear his thoughts for once, and it felt even nicer to get back onto a broom. It’d been months since he’d even looked at one, let alone ridden one. He hadn’t realised how much he’d missed it. How much he’d missed his friends.
They splashed in the river - James collecting cool looking stones and Peter laying back against the cool water - and played game after game of exploding snap. Sirius even rematched Peter in the chess match that he’d been avoiding for in the past days.
Peter’s sister had managed to get hold of some cigarettes (for a very hefty price, even by Sirius standards) and Sirius had stashed away a battered lighter in the spare room the past summer. James refused to smoke on the claim that ‘he had to preserve his lungs for his future quidditch career’, but the other Marauders knew it was because he didn’t like the taste.
Still, in that rare moment, Sirius felt at peace for the first time watching the swirls of smoke move higher and higher into the sky.
‘Shit!’ James exclaims.
Sirius sits up. ‘What? What is it?’
‘It’s half five already, and we told mum we’d be back for 5 to get ready for Moony! Oh god, she’s gonna skin us alive!’
They all scrambled for their brooms. If Sirius is being honest, they’d of probably made it back in ten minutes flat if him and Peter had been as fit as James. Since they weren’t, it took them the full length of an hour to make it back to the Potter mansion.
Effie waited for them there, standing on the doorstep looking furious.
‘You boys made poor Remus wait an entire hour by himself before showing up, huh? Well, that’s fine, I suppose. Since we already ate dinner, you boys can cook for yourself!’ Effie fumed.
‘I’m sorry mum. Really.’ James said, his voice getting thick.
‘I’m sorry, Effie.’ Sirius echoed.
She sniffed. ‘Don’t apologise to me, apologise to Remus.’
And there, looking just as lanky and handsome and perfect as ever, stood Remus. An awkward smile plastered across his face, and Sirius knows that he’ll never love the same again.
‘I can help. Er, cook dinner, I mean,’ Remus mumbles out, not quite meeting Sirius eye.
And, well. Sirius had simply been compressing himself too long. He’d claim it was a natural occurrence. He threw himself at Remus and wrapped his arms tight around his shoulders.
‘Oh,’ Remus exclaimed softly, embracing him.
‘Glad you’re here,’ Sirius mumbled, drawing back. God, could he not control himself for five bloody minutes?
But the hug seemed to clear all remains of the awkwardness that lingered between them. As Peter tried to instruct them through how to a cottage pie, it was almost as if nothing had changed at all. They laughed like boys again, throwing flour across the kitchen at each other and generally making a mess. Something had undoubtedly changed. Sirius arrogance seemed to have evaporated, and all that remained was his natural confidence. In the presence of his friends, a weight seemed to be lifted from his shoulders. He was where he was meant to be.
By the time they’d eaten and cleared everything away again, the sun had gone down and the moon rose high in the sky. It might’ve been much quicker had Effie helped them, but she was evidently still harbouring a grudge from earlier and refused to contribute anything.
After a few rounds of exploding snap, Peter let out a big yawn and announced he was going to bed. None of them argued, since they all knew how pleasant Peter could be when he didn’t get enough sleep. Eventually, James followed too.
‘You guys gonna be alright in the spare room? I still haven’t finished packing for tomorrow, can’t find my bloody gryffindor socks anywhere-‘
‘Wait,’ Sirius interrupts, ‘We’re sharing?’
‘Yeah,’ James looks up, surprised. ‘Mum said last night at dinner, remember? we just figured since Peter snores so loud Remus’d be better in with you.’
‘Yeah!’ Sirius says too quickly. ‘That’s fine.’
James gives him an odd look, but otherwise doesn’t question it. They traipse up the stairs and say goodnight to James, who immediately collapses into bed, packing be damned.
The door shut close with a light click. Sirius meets Remus’ eye for a moment, but quickly drops it. Instead, he walks over to the window, opens it up, and lights a cigarette.
‘I thought you’d stopped doing that?’ Remus asked.
Sirius blew out the smoke in his mouth. ‘I did for a bit, well, a few weeks. Mother got pretty strict towards the end. Wouldn’t let me out the house.’
Remus went quiet for a moment, then sat on the window sill opposite Sirius, holding out an open hand to him.
‘What?’ he asked. ‘You might’ve stopped, but I never did.’
Sirius offered him a crooked grin at that and holds out the lighter.
‘So how’d you get them, anyway?’
‘Peter’s sister,’ Sirius replied, his eyes focussed on the sky. ‘He thought they’d cheer me up a bit. Grateful all the same, obviously. I’ve been dying for a smoke.’
‘So you weren’t, um, cheery?’ Remus chuckled awkwardly. ‘I’m sorry. Please don’t answer that. Of course you weren’t cheery, Remus, you fucking idiot.’
Sirius looked at him then, grey eyes piercing straight through him. ‘You’re not a fucking idiot…’ he trailed off. ‘Ok, maybe you are a bit but- no, I don’t think I was particularly cheery, not these past couple days.’
‘I cant believe she did that to you, Padfoot-‘
‘Can we talk about something else? I’m sorry, it’s just- how’s things on the farm.’
Remus looked startled for a moment. Sirius tried to ignore his rapidly increasing heart rate. If Remus ever found out the truth, there’s a high chance he’d never want to talk to him again. And. Well. Sirius has experienced that, and he never wants to experience it again.
‘It’s alright, I guess. Never very exciting.’ Remus said, his voice getting deeper. ‘Been useless these past couple days, just worrying like mad over you.’
Sirius felt himself growing deeply red. The boy who could flirt the female population of Hogwarts into a frenzy felt oceans away in that moment. ‘I’m so-‘
‘Don’t apologise. I feel awful. I should’ve never sent those letters. I know that now. I was- I just was so scared, Padfoot. So scared that I’d lost you when I’d only just got you back-‘
‘-But what I did to you was unforgivable, you shouldn’t feel obligated to miss me-‘
‘I did miss you.’ Remus said firmly, lit cigarette in his hand forgotten. ‘I did. And what you did was wrong, deeply wrong, but I forgive you anyway.’
Sirius felt his eyes slowly creep up to meet Remus’.
Remus dropped his cigarette out of the window, shifting to make himself more comfortable, his thigh resting against Sirius’.
‘It’s impossible not to forgive you, Sirius.’
‘It was because of you,’ Sirius blurted out, then immediately slapped a hand over his mouth.
‘What?’ Remus sat up straighter, looking bewildered. ‘What do you mean?’
‘Forget I said anything, really,’
‘No, tell me!’ Remus insisted, grabbing Sirius by the shoulder, staring into his eyes with intensity.
Sirius groaned, desperately trying to keep his cool despite being able to hear his heartbeat in his eardrums.
‘Fine. But you’ve got to promise not to judge me.’ He said slowly. ‘Or hate me.’
Remus nodded seriously then.
Sirius let out a deep sigh before lighting another cigarette. ‘It was the letters.’
‘I knew it!’ Remus exclaimed. Then paused. ‘Wait, what? Is it because I told her to fuck off? Fucks sake! Knew I shouldn’t have written that.’ he muttered.
‘No,’ Sirius laughed. ‘It wasn’t that, though I can’t imagine she was thrilled about it.’
He paused for a moment, growing more somber. ‘It was what I said. In one of my letters. God, this is so embarrassing in hindsight.’
‘Go on,’ Remus urged.
‘She saw what I said about your-‘ his breath hitched. ‘Muscles. And then she read my letters from you and Mary, and-‘
‘What? What did she do?’
‘She asked me if I was one of those queers.’ Sirius whispered, shame pumping through his blood so quickly he was almost certain it was going to burst out of his veins. ‘And I didn’t deny it.’
‘Why, Sirius?’ Are us asked, evidently confused.
Sirius laughed. ‘Oh, Moony, I’ve missed your obliviousness.’
‘Wh-‘
‘I didn’t deny it because I am one of those queers, Moony.’ He said with a small smile, watching it dawn over Remus’ face. ‘I cant change, I know I cant, and I won’t lie about it. Not after everything that’s happened to me.’
Remus said nothing.
‘And it’s taken me a long time to realise that.’ Sirius continues. ‘Even longer to be honest with myself. And I- I really didn’t like myself for it. But I won’t take it back. I won’t.’
Remus stares at him in silence.
Sirius feels something in him begin to splinter. ‘So yes, Remus, my mum tried to off me because I’m a big, fat, dirty queer, and she thought forcing the dark mark on me was the only way to fix that. News flash, it wasn’t. I think deep down she knew it, so she really did put in the effort to finish the job-‘
Sirius stops talking abruptly, because he finds he can’t. Because Remus’ lips are planted firmly on his own. His lips part into an ‘o’, and it some miraculous twist of fate, his brain catches up with his mouth. And well, there’s no other way to explain it. Sirius Black experiences what magic truly feels like for the first time.
A long while later, Sirius pulls back, his lips swollen and his eyes blown wide. He’s never felt more vulnerable in such an incredible way.
‘So, you don’t hate me then?’ He asks.
Remus snorts. ‘Like I could. And trust me, I’ve tried.’
‘So i’m unhate-able, then’ Sirius murmurs against his lips.
‘That’s not a word, you idiot.’
‘Who cares about words, you giant nerd.’ Sirius suddenly springs up
‘What?’ Remus asks, alarmed. ‘What is it?’
‘Do you think you you kiss the words into me? Like through the muggle thing, ostrich? Oswald? Os-‘
‘Osmosis?’ Remus interrupts.
‘Yeah, exactly!’
‘Dear god,’ He said, smiling against Sirius’ lips. ‘I think I’ve’ kissed you stupid.’
Sirius laughs straight from his belly and smacks Remus’ shoulder, tackling him into a hug.
Above, the moon twinkles in the inky night sky.