Eclipsed

The first thing Sirius noticed upon entering St. Mungo's was the unusually high number of patients being wheeled in. The usual bustle of the hospital was amplified, replaced by a frantic energy that hung heavy in the air. A knot of apprehension tightened in his stomach. Something was wrong, very wrong.

“What’s happening?” Sirius shouted over the din, grabbing a passing nurse.

“Mass casualty incident,” she gasped, her voice barely audible over the chaos. “Some sort of attack at a Halloween party early this morning. Lots of injuries, some critical.”

A cold dread settled in Sirius’s stomach. A Halloween party? He thought back to his night, spending time with his best friends, accidentally coming out to everyone… the laughter, the joy he experienced, all flashed through his mind. Could it have been them dead, if they’d been the unlucky ones?

He was swiftly assigned to the trauma unit, a chaotic whirlwind of activity. Injured patients were being wheeled in, their cries of pain echoing through the sterile corridors. Healers rushed from one patient to the next, their faces etched with grim determination. The sweet, cloying scent of antiseptic mingled with the metallic tang of blood, creating a nauseating cocktail that assaulted Sirius's senses.

A senior healer, a grizzled old witch with piercing blue eyes, approached Sirius. “You’re new, aren’t you?” she barked, her voice surprisingly gentle for someone in such a stressful environment.

Sirius nodded, his voice barely a whisper. “Just finished the first bit of my training… yesterday.”

The healer closed her eyes for a second in disbelief (he couldn’t tell if it was good or bad) before opening them up and nodding, seemingly assessing him. “Okay then. I guess we need all the help we can get. You’ll be assigned to this area of the wing.” She gestured towards a particularly chaotic section of the ward. Sirius turned to see a harried-looking Healer waving him over. "We need someone to stabilize a patient with multiple lacerations," she said, her voice barely audible over the din.

Sirius nodded, his mind racing. He rushed to the patient's side, his hands moving quickly and efficiently. The patient, a young woman with long, flowing hair, was unconscious, her face pale and drawn. Her injuries were severe, but there was a chance.

Sirius worked for hours on patients like her, his body moving on autopilot as he stitched wounds, set broken bones, and administered healing potions.

The stories that filtered through were horrifying. A Halloween party, a gathering of wealthy Muggle-born and half-blood couples, had been attacked. Dark magic, vicious and indiscriminate, had left the partygoers injured and traumatized. There were plenty of children among the victims, their screams echoing in Sirius’s mind.

As the initial wave of patients was stabilized, Sirius found himself drawn to a young boy, no older than ten, lying unconscious on a stretcher. The child's skin was pale, his small body covered in lacerations. One of Sirius’ fellow accelerated trainees, a young woman named Lyra Gould who’d been a Ravenclaw in the year above him, was frantically trying to revive him, tears streaming down her face as she was unsuccessful. She administered potion after potion, tried every spell she could think of, but the child's condition worsened.

Sirius watched, helpless, as life slowly ebbed away from the child. He'd never seen death like this. The vulnerability of the child, the desperation of the parents, it was too much.

When the child finally succumbed, a wave of nausea washed over Sirius. He stumbled out of the room, his legs weak and trembling. The weight of the world seemed to rest on his shoulders.

He found an empty bathroom stall and locked himself inside. Leaning against the cold tiles, he slid down to the floor, his body shaking uncontrollably. He retched, his stomach emptying itself of its contents. When he was finished, he sat on the floor, his head in his hands, numb. 

Just as he thought he couldn't bear the pain any longer, he heard a knock on the door. "Hello, Black? Everything okay?"

It was Ben Maynard, a Healer a couple of years Sirius' senior, and who had been working alongside him in the trauma unit all day. He had a kind face and a wry sense of humor, a welcome contrast to the grim reality of their jobs.

"You alright there, Black?" Ben asked again, his voice laced with concern as he’d not received a response.

Sirius managed a weak smile as he unlatched the stall door, letting Ben see him sprawled on the ground. "Peachy," he replied, even though he felt anything but.

Ben raised an eyebrow. "You sure about that? You look awful."

Sirius shrugged. "It’s been an awful day, wouldn’t you agree I have the right to look equally awful?"

Ben studied him for a moment, then nodded. "Come on," he said, extending a hand. "Let's get you out of here. There's a decent pub a few blocks from here. We could use a stiff drink."

Sirius hesitated. He knew he shouldn't, that alcohol was a dangerous path for him. But the thought of numbing the pain, even temporarily, was too tempting. Besides, Ben was right. He needed to get out of the hospital, clear his head.

"Alright," he said, taking Ben's hand and hoisting himself off the floor. They walked out into the crisp night air, the city lights a stark contrast to the sterile environment they had just left.

The pub was a cozy, dimly lit place, filled with the chatter of locals. The bartender, a burly man with a friendly smile, greeted them warmly. Sirius ordered a pint of ale, the bitter taste a stark contrast to the emotional turmoil he was experiencing.

As he took a sip, he looked at Ben. “Thanks for this,” he said.

Ben shrugged. “Hey, we’re in this together, right? You save lives, I save lives. Sometimes we need saving ourselves.”

Sirius nodded, taking another sip of his ale. The warmth of the alcohol spread through him, dulling the sharp edges of his grief. He looked around the pub, watching the ordinary people going about their lives. They were oblivious to the horrors he had witnessed, and in a way, he envied them.

He and Ben talked and drank for hours, about everything and nothing. Ben shared stories about his own experiences as a Healer, the challenges, the triumphs, and the heartbreaks. Sirius listened, finding solace in the shared understanding.

As the night wore on, the ale was definitely hitting Sirius a bit harder. The world seemed to tilt a bit on its axis, and Ben’s voice sounded muffled, like he was talking from under a watery blanket.

“You know,” Ben said, a little too brightly, his words thick with drink, “you’re one of the best trainee Healers I’ve ever worked with, you know.”

Sirius’s own tongue felt heavy, like it was made of lead. “R’ally?” he managed.

Ben nodded vigorously, his head bobbing like a bobblehead. “Calm under pressure, yeh are. Skilled. Actually give a damn about yer patients. Rare that is.”

A sloppy grin spread across Sirius’s face. It felt good to be appreciated, even if his face didn’t quite agree with the sentiment. “Aww, Ben,” he mumbled, raising his glass in a wobbly toast. “That’s… that’s very nice of you. Thanks.” 

They finished their drinks, both considerably drunker than when they started. The world outside seemed to shimmer and sway as they stepped out of the pub. The city lights blurred into a kaleidoscope of color, and Sirius stumbled a bit on the sidewalk.

“Careful there, Black,” Ben said, his voice laced with amusement. “We’ll need you again in tip-top shape tomorrow.” 

Sirius groaned, and before he knew it, there was vomit on the bushes lining the sidewalk. “Please don’t remind me.” 

The ticking of the clock seemed to amplify the silence in the flat. James sat in the armchair, listening for the familiar sound of Sirius’s return. It was late, far past the time Sirius would normally be home, and a growing sense of unease was gnawing at him.

A sharp knock at the door startled him from his reverie. Relief washed over him as he hurried to answer it, but he stopped himself before swinging the door open right away. 

“Padfoot?” James asked, wand in hand. 

"Prongsie, let me in," Sirius slurred, and James quickly opened the door. The reek of alcohol hung heavy in the air around him, accompanied by the sour smell of sick. 

His heart sank. James had been expecting Sirius to be moody, perhaps even angry, over the events of Halloween, but this… this was something else entirely. Sirius was drunk, and the implications of that were a cocktail of emotions James wasn't prepared to navigate after a day full of classes and an evening full of anxiety. 

"Where have you been?" James asked, his voice steady, though his heart pounded in his chest.

Sirius shrugged, a careless gesture. "Out. With Ben. Good bloke, that one."

James nodded, his mind racing. He didn't know Ben… but he hoped it was someone from the hospital, or at least someone Sirius could trust. 

"What happened?" James then asked, and Sirius shrugged, his eyes unfocused.

 "Long story," he mumbled, attempting to steady himself against the doorframe.

James took his arm, guiding him inside. "You need to sit down," he said firmly.

Sirius obeyed, collapsing onto the kitchen chairs with a heavy thud. James fetched him a glass of water, forcing it into his hands. Sirius drank it down in one gulp, then slumped back against the backrest of the wooden seat.

"Where's Remus?" he asked, his voice slurred. “Fuck… the moon tonight… I forgot… is he mad?” 

James hesitated. He didn't want to add to Sirius' bad night. "He wasn't happy, but in any case he had to go alone," he said, choosing his words carefully. "Dumbledore said he needed him for something right after the moon, and that he'd make arrangements for him tonight."

Sirius nodded, his eyes closing. "Of course," he mumbled, annoyed. “When did he leave?” he then asked, his voice flat.

“This morning,” James replied. “Not too long after you left.”

Sirius nodded, his mind racing, the world spinning. He leaned forward, his forehead hitting the table with a clunk. 

James reached out, his hand finding Sirius’ forehead pressed against the cool wood. “Are you alright?” he asked, his voice gentle.

Sirius nodded, but his voice was barely a whisper. “Just tired.”

James squeezed his arm. “You’ve had a long day,” he said. “Why don’t you go to bed? You could probably squeeze in a couple hours before your next shift.” 

Sirius nodded, his eyes heavy. He stood up and stumbled towards the bedroom, the weight of the day's events pressing down on him. As he lay down on the bed, he pulled the covers over his head, trying to shut out the world. He was exhausted, physically and emotionally, dizzy, and drunk. Although he missed Remus already, he was a bit glad that his boyfriend wouldn’t have to see him like this. 

Hours later, as the first rays of dawn filtered through the windows, a shuffling sound came from the direction of Sirius's room. James, who had barely slept a wink, stirred on the sofa. He stretched, his muscles stiff from sitting for so long.

He made his way to the kitchen, his steps guided by the familiar layout of the flat. He bumped into a chair that hadn’t been tucked in, wincing at the noise and the impact as it hit his hip, bonier than he remembered it being. After leaving Hogwarts, and trying to get adjusted to his new school’s workload and schedule, there hadn’t been much time for exercise, or for cooking and eating particularly filling meals, and James knew he was losing weight again. 

Reaching the kitchen, he started making breakfast, something hearty after feeling the sharpness of his hip bones. He moved with practiced ease, his hands working on autopilot. He carefully measured out porridge oats, the grains cascading down with a soft rustle. He filled a kettle with water, the rhythmic gurgling a familiar sound. As the water heated, he chopped an apple, the rhythmic thud of the knife a steady beat. Sirius’ familiar footsteps padded into the kitchen. 

"James?" a voice rasped, thick with sleep.

"Sirius," James greeted him, albeit a bit coldly. "Good morning."

 "Smells good," Sirius replied, his voice weak.

James gave a half smile. "I made oatmeal," he said. "Want some?"

Sirius nodded, his eyes closing. He leaned against the counter, his body limp. “Yes,” he said after a moment. 

"Sirius," James said, his voice steady as he scooped the oatmeal into two bowls. "What happened last night?"

Sirius blinked, his mind struggling to process the question. He tried to recall the events of the previous evening, but his memory was hazy, filled with fragmented images and garbled conversations with Ben.

"I… I don't remember all the way," he admitted, his voice a croak. “II was with Ben… he’s one of the older Healers.” Sirius paused, before adding on, “I think I had a bit too much to drink."

James sighed. "You certainly did," he said, his voice dry.

Sirius rubbed his temples, a pained expression on his face. "I'm sorry," he mumbled.

James hesitated. He wanted to express his disappointment, his frustration, but he also wanted to support Sirius. "It's okay," he said finally. "Just… be more careful next time. I worry, Mum worries, Remus worries.” 

Sirius nodded, his eyes still glazed over. He looked around the kitchen, his gaze landing on the breakfast James was preparing. “I don’t know if I can stomach this, Jamie.” 

“You will try,” James countered, holding out the bowl to Sirius who took it begrudgingly. “You need to sober up before you head to the hospital."

Sirius nodded, his head spinning. He sat down at the kitchen table, his body aching from the previous night's exertions. James placed a steaming bowl of porridge in front of his own seat and joined him. 

As they ate breakfast, an awkward silence settled over the kitchen, Sirius choking down the oatmeal and James doing his best to push down the argument he desperately wanted to have with his friend. 

"I have to go," Sirius said, scraping the bowl and walking it over to the sink. "Thanks for the food… and for looking after me.” 

James managed a smile. "Anytime, Pads. See you tonight.” 

With that, Sirius was off, and James took his bowl to the sink, and his book from the kitchen table. He had his own studying to do, and hoped he could stop worrying about Sirius for five seconds in order to get it done.