The world is a blur of color. Too bright. Everything is just too bright. Sirius doesn’t understand it. The world is muted, yet still too much.
Lights pierce his vision, leaving him blinking, confused. Noises feel sharp, sending him into a panic every time someone speaks. Every place his clothes rub against him sets his nerves on fire. He feels like he is fraying at the edges, slowly falling apart, waiting for someone to pull a string for too long and watch as he unravels entirely.
He hasn’t cried. Not yet. Not when he left Regulus behind, not when he collapsed at the Potter house, not when Mrs. Potter hugged him and promised him he wouldn’t have to go back. He just feels numb.
He takes another bite of his cereal. Lifting the spoon costs more effort than it should. He hadn’t wanted breakfast, but Mrs. Potter had insisted that he at least eat something. Initially he had been worried that the taste would overwhelm him, but it is now clear that there was no need to worry. He can’t taste anything anyway.
A footstep startles him from the fog. He drops his spoon, a splash sounding as it falls into the bowl.
His mother takes a step forward. “Crucio.”
Another round of the curse wracks his body. He can tell he is screaming, not because he can hear it, but from the rawness of his throat. He can’t hear anything over the pain.
An eternity passes, and then it is gone. He lays on the ground, panting.
“What do you have to say for yourself, Sirius?” his mother taunts.
He doesn’t remember what she is mad about. It seems like he never knows. She is always just angry, yelling and screaming at him, and he never knows what he has done wrong.
“Well? Sirius?”
“Sirius? Sirius?”
Sirius blinks a few times, regaining his bearings. Dining room table. Cereal. The Potter house. Right.
James takes the seat next to him. “Are you okay?”
Sirius nods, eating another spoonful of cereal. “Yeah.”
“You sure? You’ve been pretty monosyllabic.”
“I’m-” he starts, but his voice comes out raspy. He clears his throat. “I’m fine.”
James gives him a look, but doesn’t contradict him. “You’ve been eating that cereal for the past half hour. And you’re not even halfway done. I’m worried. We all are.”
Sirius gazes down at the bowl. He doesn’t know what to say. How can he explain to his brother what is going on if he doesn’t even know?
“Can you at least tell me a little bit of what happened?”
His throat closes up. No. No, not yet. He can’t speak. He can’t tell him.
“Nothing to say?” she spits. “Disappointing. Though what did I expect? That’s just you, isn’t it? Sirius Black, the family disappointment.” She kicks his head.
The impact sends his head spinning. His neck twists painfully and stars dance before his eyes.
Why? Why does she hurt him so bad? What has he done so wrong? Why is he always to blame?
He knows it wasn’t his fault. Logically. He knows his mother is just horrible. But every time her words sink too deep. Every time another crack is formed in his heart and soon he will shatter altogether.
“Don’t you have anything to say?”
“Can’t you tell me anything?” James asks.
Sirius squeezes his eyes shut. “No.”
“Pathetic,” his mother hisses. “Disgraceful. Useless.”
Each word stings. He tries not to let them. It doesn’t matter. She will always hurt him and he will always be powerless. Pathetic. Useless.
“You’ve never done anything good for anyone.”
Part of him wants to agree. To just let it pass in silence.
But the rest of him rages against that. He has done one good thing. For Remus. He became an animagus for Remus. That was something good. “You’re wrong.”
“What did you just say?”
“You’re wrong.”
“Crucio!”
“Can you at least tell me how you got out?” James presses.
“Floo powder.”
He stands in the fireplace, making eye contact with Regulus. Words dance in their eyes, too many apologies left unsaid.
He already knows Reg won’t come with him. Hurt laces his expression. They both know what they are about to do. And they both know they will never forgive each other for that night.
Sirius lets the powder fall as his destination spills from his lips and he is whisked away.
Sirius stands and picks up his bowl, starting towards the kitchen. James follows him.
“I just wanna help,” James says. “I can’t do that if you don’t tell me anything.”
He doesn’t understand. James is trying, but he doesn’t get it. How can he, when he has the best family in the world?
The bowl clatters against the counter.
“Crucio!”
He lets the red in his vision fade away. It isn’t real. He is safe. It isn’t real.
“You don’t get it,” Sirius tells him. He walks back to the dining room towards the stairs.
“Then explain it to me,” James pleads.
He can’t. Not now. The words won’t let him. He can’t talk about it yet.
His hand brushes against one of the chairs as he passes.
“Crucio!”
He shudders. “You don’t get it.” He takes the steps two at a time to get to James’ bedroom.
“Then talk to me!” James yells.
“Crucio!”
“I can’t!” Sirius screams. It sounds more like a squawk with the state of his voice, but James gets the message. James backs down a step.
“I just…” He screws up his face, trying to explain without words, or at least trying to find the words to explain. “I just need a little space.”
“Yeah,” James says, quieter now. “Of course. I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have pushed.”
“‘S okay,” Sirius mumbles.
“You can have my room for a while. I’ll go see if Mum needs help with anything.”
Sirius nods his thanks and shuts the door behind him.
He slumps down against the wall beside the door, eyes screwed shut and breathing heavy. He curls his knees into his chest, tipping his head back against the wall and letting out a quiet moan. His pain, frustration, sadness—all pushed out in one small noise.
Imagining James coming back in, ready to throw more desperate questions at him that he just can’t answer , Sirius reaches up and locks the door with a faint click. He feels abandoned, isolated for a second, and hates himself for it— you’re doing this to yourself, fucker.
With another pitchy whine at his agonized joints shifting, Sirius pulls his head forward, leaning into the small space between his knees. He takes a few hitching breaths—and lets himself cry.
He doesn’t know why he’s crying. Doesn’t have a good reason to, he thinks. He’s out of that house of horrors, he’s healing, he never has to go back. He should be so happy, but instead all he feels is unbearable fucking agony . He hates it.
He needs Remus. The one person who just knows how to fix him, no questions, just comfort. His gentle touch, soft voice, reassuring words—but he can’t have him.
Remus will get so stressed out, seeing Sirius like this, having to deal with his teenage angst bullshit right before the full moon—Sirius can’t do that to him.
Sirius only cries harder with the thought. Pathetic , his mother’s words ring loud in his ears. “S-stop!” he says out loud to the voice in his head. Weak. Sirius can’t help but agree with his mind, this time.
He doesn’t mean to, he’d stop if he thought to, but Sirius falls asleep there, hunched over on the wood floor, the harsh words of his mother ringing in his ears.
*
A soft knock wakes Sirius hours—minutes, maybe? He doesn’t know how long he’s been sitting there—later. His head jolts up, looking around wildly.
“Sirius, you okay in there? Can I come in?” James, it’s just James. Sirius takes a shaky breath, winds his fingers in his hair.
Go away, please, he wants to say, but he can’t keep James out of his own room, can he? “Yeah,” he replies after a moment.
James mutters some spell, and the lock clicks again. The door opens slowly.
“Pads… you know there’s a bed right there, right?” James tries to joke.
Sirius tries to formulate a proper response, but his mind’s moving so sluggishly he can hardly remember what year it is. He just hums in response, closing his eyes again.
James sighs lightly and sits next to Sirius. “If it helps at all, Remus is on his way over. I know he’s - he’s much better equipped at handling this heavy stuff than me—what’s wrong?”
Sirius is scrambling away, pushing himself to stand, his eyes troubled and wide. No, no he can’t—Remus can’t come here right now. He can’t, he can’t. “What the hell? Why didn’t you ask me first?” Sirius asks.
It’s dramatic, it’s wrong, but Sirius feels betrayed, almost.
Pathetic, pathetic, pathetic.
James stands to meet him, brows furrowed in concern. “Sirius, I-” he recoils when Sirius gives him a deadly look, raising his hands and shuffling backward.
“The full moon is in two fucking days, Prongs, he’s probably in so much pain already, and we both know how worried and stressed he gets when there’s something wrong with one of us-” Sirius is practically fuming. It’s his house, dumbass. He can invite anyone he wants over, not everything is about you.
“Padfoot, what is up with you? It’s not a big deal, you know he always wants to be there for you, he doesn’t care about any of that!” James tries to keep his tone under control, but he can’t. He’s so frustrated.
“What if I don’t want him to be there for me?” Sirius growls, and James freezes. “What if I don’t want him to see me like this, a fucking hopeless mess of a person, crying and hiding away? What if I don’t want him to be around me when I’m so out of it because I might say something or do something that makes him hate me and never speak to me or look at me again? What if I don’t want to hurt him?”
No matter how hard he tries, Sirius can’t keep his voice steady. It’s wavering in and out, pitchy and raspy. Pathetic.
James looks so upset; Sirius almost feels bad for a moment. He turns away, pacing the room and pointedly avoiding James’s eyes.
“He deserves to know . And so do I. Why are you such a mess right now?”
Sirius whips around. “When am I not?” He whispers, a catch in his voice.
“How could I not be, when my parents started using curses to punish me when I was eight? When my back is covered in scars that will never go away, that were caused by the people who are supposed to love me unconditionally? When there’s a voice in my head, telling me I deserved all the curses, all the days without food, all the pure fucking hatred I got in that house?”
Sirius doesn’t notice he is crying again until he looks down and sees the circles of dampness on his shirt. Pathetic. “How would you feel, going home every summer, only to be screamed at and beaten to high hell for breathing too loud? Being forced to attend family gatherings where they praise the man who has killed your friends in front of you? How the fuck could I not be a mess?”
He slides down the wall, falling into the same position he was in before James came in. He tugs on his hair.
“And don’t fucking get me started on the last few days. They tried to give me to that disgusting fuck they bow down to, Voldemort, almost successfully branded me with his fucking skull tattoo. Have you ever been burned, James? It was like that, but a million times worse. I got away—and they came after me. Used an Unforgivable.”
James’s head snaps up, staring sharply at Sirius. He’d been so desperate for answers, wanted to know so badly what had happened to Sirius. But now that he knows, he wants to forget.
“The… the Cruciatus.” James guesses feebly. Sirius nods grimly.
“That’s the one. I thought being in love with Remus hurt, but that is nothing compared to Crucio.”
There’s a gasp right outside the door. James and Sirius both turned to look; the door is wide open, and Remus is standing just outside.
No. Nononono.
Sirius’ heart plummets, the weight of what he just said and who just heard it sinking in too fast. He’s paralyzed, too many panicked thoughts racing in his mind.
“Oh shit,” James says, barely loud enough for Sirius to hear him.
Remus takes a few steps forward and Sirius instinctively shuffles away. This can’t be happening. Not today. Not ever. Remus can’t know.
When he said he didn’t want Remus here, he hadn’t been entirely truthful why. Yes, he doesn’t want Remus to worry, but it’s not just that. In this state Sirius has barely any control. He doesn’t trust himself not to just kiss Remus out of nowhere in some stupid attempt to feel something other than pain, ruining everything between them.
And now… it doesn’t even matter. Everything is already ruined, kiss or no.
He has no chance with Remus. He never did—he knew that, but now he doesn’t even have a chance to be friends, all because he couldn’t keep his fucking mouth shut, even when he knew Remus was going to be there any minute. Pathetic.
“What did you say?” Remus asks. His brow is furrowed, but his expression is otherwise unreadable.
Sirius’ eyes widen, palms clammy. He shakes his head. He can’t repeat it. “You—you heard.” He can almost see the world crumbling apart around him.
“Umm, I think I’m gonna leave you two alone…” James mentions, but neither Sirius nor Remus pay him any attention.
Remus walks the span of the room until there’s only a few feet between them. Sirius looks down, eyes roaming frantically across the floor for some answer he knows he won’t find. His throat feels tight, and his hands are shaking, hard enough that he has to fight to keep them steady to keep Remus from noticing.
Visions of Remus slapping him surge through his mind, though he knows Remus would never. The knowledge does nothing to keep the images at bay.
“Sirius, please… look at me.”
Sirius looks up. There are tears glistening in Remus’ eyes.
He looks back down, horrified. No, no, no. Fuck. No. This can’t be happening. He’s making Remus cry. He never should have said anything. Maybe he should never speak again. “Fuck. I’m sorry. I’m sorry.”
“Look at me,” Remus begs.
Sirius shakes his head. No. He doesn’t even deserve to be able to see Remus.
“Please.”
Sirius doesn’t move.
Then there are hands cupping his face, lifting his chin up so he’s forced to meet Remus’ eyes. There’s a tear inching down his cheek.
“I’m sorry,” Sirius croaks.
Remus just shakes his head, and Sirius doesn’t have time to figure out what that means because the next thing he knows, Remus is kissing him.
It’s brief, and somewhat awkward, but Sirius couldn’t care less. He barely has time to register what’s really happening beyond holy fucking shit Remus is kissing me what is going on before it’s over.
He scans Remus’ face for answers. “What?”
“I love you,” Remus tells him.
Sirius just blinks, too incoherent to say anything other than, “Oh.”
Remus smiles a little and kisses him again. “Is that okay?”
Sirius wants to say yes, but he’s too choked up, so he just nods and buries his face in the crook of Remus’ neck, clutching his friend’s—boyfriend’s? He doesn’t have the energy to consider that yet—shirt.
He starts crying again, silent, chest-heaving sobs that rattle him so much it hurts. It stops for a moment when Remus wraps his arms around him, but continues soon thereafter.
Slowly Sirius manages to calm himself until he’s breathing steadily with the occasional hiccup. The realization that Remus loves him in return is only now starting to sink in.
“I’m sorry for crying so much,” Sirius murmurs.
“Hey, don’t apologize. It’s okay.” Remus hugs him tighter. “You’re okay.”
“Okay.”
They stand there for a moment in silence, just clinging to each other, relishing each other’s warmth.
Hesitantly Sirius breaks the silence. Part of him doesn’t want to say it, but he needs to know what Remus will say in return. “I love you.”
“I love you too.”
Tension he didn’t know he was carrying subsides. He breathes in Remus’ scent, letting it soothe his mind.
No one here will hurt him. His friends are here to support him. And Remus… Remus loves him.
So there, standing in Remus’ arms, for the first time in a long, long while, Sirius feels safe.