The fog is thick in the December air as Sirius boards the Express with his face concealed from sight by a handkerchief, and begins to seek out James, whose distinctive voice he heard shouting a few carriages ahead. Walking is difficult due to the pain in his stomach from the many bruises, and his cut fingers are struggling to hold his luggage. He avoids the tumultous rush of students waving goodbye to their parents (it's sickening, and Walburga and Orion Black are certainly not going to be looking for his face anyway) and instead opens the door to a compartment, where James sits alone, reading from Quaffle Talk. Whoever his friend was shouting at (God he hopes it's Snivellus) is gone, the safety net of the Marauders is beginning to appear once more and Sirius' free falling descent to Hell is beginning to reverse and he is swimming towards the light.
'Hey.' James says, without looking up.
Sirius gives a small grunt in assent, because he's trying to avoid using his bruised lips, and James looks up at his lack of appropriate greeting with indignation.
'Padfoot!' he exclaims, when he sees the swollen lip and bruised cheekbone his friend is sporting. 'What happened?'
'Got in a Muggle fist fight.' Sirius lies thickly, and James just raises an eyebrow in clear disbelief, but doesn't push the matter. His friend is far thinner than when he left Hogwarts, and his usually bright eyes are drooping with sleepiness and something else James can't quite name. The train engine begins its heavy breathing and soon the gentle thrum of wheels rocks Sirius to sleep. He is obviously exhausted, and James resists the temptation to draw a fetching penis on his friend's forehead with difficulty, but restrains himself when the door is pushed open and Remus Lupin is revealed, pale but smiling, with two large parcels clamped firmly to his side.
'What-ho Moony!' James grins (the greeting is possibly inspired by the stuffed fox and top hat Sirius sent him for Christmas), and Remus sinks into the seat opposite Sirius, who by now is snoring slightly.
'Oh my God! James, what happened to him?'
James shrugs.
'Said he got in a muggle duel. I don't believe him.'
Remus winces. He is more than slightly worried about Sirius, who flinches slightly every time a male teacher raises his hand or when someone slams something down on a desk. He sees the fear in the boy's eyes when people talk about weapons, and has noticed how he always carries a salve in the bottom of his trunk. Remus remembers one time, after a pretty bad full moon, Sirius came forth with all sorts of useful advice, such as lying with a pillow next to you so you didn't roll onto a bruise, and 'it's always useful to have some dittany with you, it's really easy to make, but I've actually got some already brewed in my bedside cabinet.'
James sees other things. He sees how Sirius can execute a blank poker face like no other and switch off his emotions faster than a lumos spell. He sees how Sirius can put away Firewhiskey like it's tap water, and how he never, not once, mentions how his holidays have been, other than a very brief 'oh you know, the usual'. He also, more scarily, sees how Sirius wears long sleeves all the time, and bracelets, but he thinks that's something different. His friend seems happy most of the time, he's always playing jokes - he's always been a bit wild, but that's why James likes him so much. They are crazy together, and James knows that Sirius is happy, when he's at Hogwarts and with his friends. He just wishes he'd open up a bit more.
Peter doesn't see much. But he sees how Sirius disappears into the bathroom with his hands in his pockets sometimes, and how even in the summer, he doesn't take off his shirt until a few weeks after he returns to school. He pretends not to hear Sirius huff out a breath of pain as he walks up the stairs, and not to see the way his hands wrap around himself protectively if someone accidently walks into him. He definitely doesn't talk about how sometimes he hears Sirius wake up in the night breathing like he's been crying.
Sirius sleeps for the whole of the six hour journey, completely dead to the world, and James has a struggle to wake him when they arrive at the station. Sirius gives him an apologetic look because he still can't speak, but James brushes it off and gives him one of Those Looks. Back in the dorm, Sirius is torn between exhaustion and hunger, and then Remus gives him a hug and promises that he'll get him something to eat when he wakes up. So Sirius sleeps whilst the others eat, and instead of waking him up when they return, they leave him to his dreams and find a quiet corner of the Common Room to talk.
'I'm worried about Sirius.' James says, and it's the way he says it without any platitudes beforehand that Remus is alert to how severe the issue is.
'I think his parents are hurting him.'
Remus looks down in solemn thought, and Peter squeaks. But they know he's right. They all see it. But what can they do?
James bites his lip.
'I also think that he's hurting /himself/.'
Remus flinches then, and James just meets his eyes and nods gravely.
'Well we c-can do something about that, can't we?' Peter stammers, and James wants to glare at him for interrupting the silence. Remus' head is spinning, because his best friend, clever, confident, handsome Sirius is blaming himself for something.
'I'll deal with it.' Remus says calmly, 'I think he'd tell me.'
James looks stung, but he looks at Remus and understands that they just don't want Peter involved because he will probably ruin things. They don't know that Peter's heart wants to help Sirius too.
They leave Sirius asleep all night, and leave it until the last possible second to get him to wake up. When he does, his face is pale, but his hair is cheerfully messy and the previous tension that held him in its grasp has eased from his muscles. He looks more like Sirius now. The bruises are beginning to mellow away, and the cut on his cheek is healing, albeit slowly.
'Mornin'." He mumbles, through his puffy lips.
'Are you hungry, Padfoot?' James asks, and Sirius sighs.
'Starving.'
James helps him to sit up against the headboard properly, and beckons to Peter. For some reason, Wormtail has proven surprisingly adept at healing spells on other people at the drop of a hat, whereas Remus is usually far too nervous to help someone else unless he is In The Zone.
'Did you want me to heal up those bruises?' Peter questions him gently, and Sirius nods, although untrustingly. A few minutes later and his face, although pale from lack of food, is free from many of the visible signs of the battering he'd received.
They walk down to the Great Hall, slowly, as Sirius is a little faint and unsteady on his feet, before he drops into a seat and attacks a plate of sausages, eggs and French toast like he hasn't eaten in weeks.
Remus and James share a glance.
'When did you last eat, Sirius?' James says, as he sips his own coffee.
'God, it feels like I haven't eaten in years.' Sirius says, laughing, as the colour returns to his cheeks.
'Honestly though, how long has it been?' James pushes and Sirius shrugs.
'Didn't trust that mad ol' house elf's cooking.'
James pales until he looks like the tablecloth. They've just returned from a month long holiday.
'Eat some more food, bloody hell.' Remus says, heaping some steak and kidney pie onto Sirius' plate. Peter starts when he hears Moony swear, because that boy /never/ swears.
'I-I can't.' Sirius stutters, and now he looks more green than pale, and he is sweating profusely. 'Oh Merlin, I think I'm going to throw up.'
'It's too much at once.' James says, and Sirius hunches over and holds his stomach in agony. He is an almost comical shade of delicate green, and stands up with his lips pinched in pain.
'Let's get you to the hospital wing, c'mon.'
'No!' Sirius exclaims, 'I can't.'
'Just tell her you're in pain and she can give you a potion and you can go. You have to see her, Siri.'
Luckily (or not?) Sirius is hit with another wave of pain and collapses like a folding chair onto James' broad shoulder. He isn't really in any fit shape to tell them he doesn't want to go, so the Marauders take advantage by hauling him into the hospital wing where Madame Pomfrey settles him onto a bed.
'What happened?' Her tone is short, abrupt - businesslike. Sirius groans.
'I think he ate too much too quickly,' James says softly, 'He didn't eat a lot over the holiday so he wasn't used to it.'
At this point, Sirius gags and nearly throws up, but restrains himself.
'Drink this.'
He swallows down a green potion that looks and tastes a bit like mud, but seems to ease his nausea and cramps once it hits his stomach and just like that his pain is over.
'Do you want to tell me what that was about, Mr Black?' Pomfrey asks, gently touching his forehead to check for fever. She knows him too well, and half suspects him of skiving.
Sirius shrugs.
'Didn't eat much over the holidays, slept through dinner last night, I was hungry, stomach was too empty.'
Pomfrey sends the Marauders out of the room at this point, and Sirius rubs his belly in discomfort. He feels a bit churned up, and from the look on the Mediwitch's face, he's about to get a grilling.
'Mr Black, would you mind me examining your stomach?'
Sirius groans, and shakes his head.
'I'd rather you didn't.'
There are bruises there. He'll be screwed if she sees. They litter his hipbones like so many discarded flowers,blooming from a light lilac to a deep, burnished purple right beneath his ribs. They are stark against his pale skin, and a finger of icy fear spreads down his back as he contemplates just what her facial expression would look like if she knew.
'Mr Black, I must insist -'
'No, don't touch me.' Sirius' voice has far more tension in it than expected, and Madame Pomfrey drops the issue.
'Very well.' she says calmly, and instead runs a brief diagnostic glance over him. He is sitting out of character - hunched over rather than upright, and he has protectively wrapped an arm around his stomach. He looks like he might be sick, although she is unsure whether it is because of his clear anxiety or because his stomach still hurts.
'Would you like to stay here today?' she asks calmly, 'If you wanted some rest?'
Sirius shakes his head.
'No thank you,' he says politely, pushing himself up from his bed. His stomach muscles protest and he nearly flops back down, but he will not miss classes - he has Transfiguration, Defense Against the Dark Arts and Charms today, his favourite subjects - and people will gossip if he isn't there.
'Come back at lunchtime and take something for the nausea.'
Siriys nods and smiles, and swings his legs to the floor. He walks out with his head held high, but grimaces as soon as he turns the corner. The Marauders are waiting for him, with tentative smiles (Peter), an over exaggerated emotional hug (James - of course) and quiet support (Remus. It's always Remus).
They sit in Charms all together, and practise Summoning Charms, because 'those always come up in the OWL'.
Sirius' stomach still hurts a little, but he is good at Summoning Charms - very good - and so Flitwick lets him practise the Banishing Charm, which allows him to wreak havoc on the silver snuff box James is attempting to summon.
James is scowling. He dislikes Charms anyway, prefers Transfiguration, but when Sirius is moving your object further and further away each time you try to cast the spell, it only enflames his dislike. To make matters worse, Moony and Peter are in silent fits of laughter in the desks next to him.
Moony is brooding. He is too worried about Sirius to concentrate on the button across the desk. His friend looks so happy, laughing at James, who has given up all hope of summoning his box and is instead attempting to splat ink at Sirius. In this light, when Sirius' head is tilted upwards, the dark circles under his eyes and fading injures (Peter didn't do that great a job) are barely visible. All that can be seen is his classic bone structure and grin. However, his hands drift occasionally not to his stomach, but to his sleeves, pulling them down over his hands as if hiding something.
The bell rings cheerfully, and the cluster of friends dive from the classroom into the crowded corridor. Sirius' face tenses as someone walks into him but he tries to ignore it and turns and smirks at Remus.
Remus sighs. He needs to speak to Sirius, he really does, it's just - right now - when he's feeling a bit better - does he need his mate invading his privacy straight away? Maybe he'll just do the typical Remus thing of keeping himself to himself and not saying anything.
Meanwhile, Sirius has bewitched James' bag to hit him on the head and they are laughing. Peter is walking just behind them - as always - and everything is as it should be as they pile into the Gryffindor common room, hysterical.
James is giving Sirius a funny look, because he mothers them all, but if Sirius sees it, he doesn't reciprocate. He is preoccupied with rummaging through James' bag and teasing about Evans. He still looks exhausted. In the glowing light from the embers, his dark circles are emphasised and his cheeks look hollow. He pushes a lock of hair from his face and his jumper slips back to reveal, to Remus' dismay, a few small gashes on his right wrist. James has seen too. Sirius hasn't noticed but the two share a pained glance that conveys too much sorrow for such brief contact.
'My stomach hurts.' Sirius says languidly, and James immediately is by his side touching his forehead and asking worried questions.
'James, I just need some potions, okay?' Sirius brushes him off but pulls a face at his stomach gives a sharp sear of pain. He pushes himself from the armchair reluctantly and Peter reaches for his arm to support him.
'It's fine, Pete.' Sirius says firmly,but Remus legs it after him as soon as he's left the portrait hole. He finds Sirius hunched over the banister, groaning.
'Come on, you.' Remus scoops him up and lets him lean on him as he regains his balance.
'What's going on Siri?' Moony asks, tracing patterns on Sirius' back to try and soothe him as he sighs in pain.
'Just got stomach ache.' Sirius replies lightly, and Moony gives him a look.
'No, what else is going on?'
'What do you mean?' Sirius' voice is broken glass and Remus is getting cut as he tries to push through it.
'The long sleeves? The nightmares? Your parents? Bloody hell, Sirius - all of it!'
Sirius flinches as if Remus has hit him and the boy suddenly feels so guilty.
'Never mind, you don't have to tell me.'
Sirius winces.
'I'll tell you another time,' he murmers, 'Just not now.'
If that's all Remus can hope for, that's okay. He sustains himself on a diet of somedays and perhapses and maybes. Sirius is in pain now and he can do little more than walk. He is struggling not to vomit all over Remus, who gently rubs his back as they reach the Hospital Wing. Madame Pomfrey's face is full of concern as Sirius sits down on a bed and struggles to swallow a potion she tries to give him. Eventually, she has plied him with everything she possibly can, and lets him fall into a needed sleep. His stomach is sore, she can see, but she thinks it is more than stomach pain troubling him. Something at home, perhaps.
James joins Remus at Sirius' bed, and it is ten minutes before Sirius begins to thrash around. A few pained sobs leave his mouth, and he wriggles fretfully. He is trapped in a nightmare.
'Sirius, wake up!' James calls to him, shakes him, but the boy just continues to shake.
'Sirius! Padfoot, c'mon, please just wake up!' Remus tries, but with the same response. Suddenly, Sirius wakes up gasping, sucking air into his lungs like a man half drowned. He is sweating and it mingles with tears as the beads fall from his forehead. His breathing is laboured and he claws at the sheets in fear.
'It's just a nightmare, Siri.' James soothes, rubbing his back, 'Just a nightmare. It's okay, you're safe now.'
Sirius' breathing has slowed now, regulating itself, and he grips on to the offered hand of Remus' as he gets up. He winces a little from the lingering pain in his stomach, but it is easing rapidly and he can stand without assistance.
'How do you feel, Mr Black?' Madame Pomfrey asks, and Sirius smiles, although he is still sweating slightly, and feels a little shaken from his nightmare.
'Much better, thank you.' He is polite, as always, and his tone is refined. The words are perfectly clipped, far away from the usual smashed vowels that sprawl from his mouth in a whirlwind when he talks. His back is ramrod straight, directly opposite to the rebellious slouch he assumes usually. That's when James knows Sirius is letting his guard down. He does all these normal' things - the untidy scrawl of the handwriting, the swearing, the backchat - when he is thinking ahout it. Every so often, James catches a glimpse, like light in a window, of the copperplate handwriting and the long words, when Sirius is getting lost again.
There is a cushioning charm installed on Gryffindor Tower, something to stop them from dying if they fall, and he is safe, but Sirius wishes more than ever that he could disable it. Just briefly. Just enough to feel something. He longs for adreneline. He swings from the Firewhiskey.
Beneath him, there is a scuffle as two boys clamber out to the roof to join him. He catches the sound of a voice hissing 'If I die and he's not up here, this is your fault, Lupin.' and a tile falling to the ground, and he lies back, irked. He feels breath on the back of his neck and in the clear light of the waning moon he can see their faces in half shadow, but he says nothing. James isn't very good at climbing, he notices, his hands are bleeding. Peter isn't there. He is afraid of heights. Sirius doesn't care. They sit together, not saying anything, and the wind blows Sirius' hair into his eyes. He brushes it and the tears away with a vengence.
'My parents,' Sirius murmers, voice nearly lost in the wind - and James has never heard him sound this hollow before. 'That's what I dreamed about.'
There is a pregnant silence.
'Sirius,' James says carefully. 'Those bruises - they didn't come from a Muggle fist fight, did they?'
Sirius exhales. He doesn't give a reply straight away, and James thinks he's blown it -
- 'Not exactly.'
Remus puts an arm around him. He hasn't asked how long Sirius has been up here, but by the chill of his skin and the little liquor left in the bottle is an indication of at least an hour. The roof is cold. Everything is cold.
'They hurt you, don't they?' Remus asks softly, and although Sirius doesn't answer (because he is pressing his knuckles to his eyes because Sirius Black will /not/cry because of his parents, he will not), he nods against Remus' arm.
'Yeah.'
James gives a start, an angry furious movement that startles a nearby pigeon. Remus glares at him, indicates the numb Sirius beside him, and James moves in to stop himself from hitting someone because oh God, poor Sirius.
'Don't take it out on yourself, Siri.' James tells him, and his words are heavy and weighted and taste sharp on his tounge.
'It's my fault.' Sirius mumbles, and Remus is shocked by the emptiness of his tone. It is as if they are discussing breakfast foods.
James holds his wrist tightly then, makes him look him in the eye. Behind the glasses, those eyes glint with burning steel.
'Don't you dare say that, Sirius. Don't you dare. It's not true. It could never, never be your fault that they do this to you. Promise me? Promise me you'll stop? Throw that blade away?'
It's a sign that Sirius is really miserable when he doesn't jerk away from James at his last question. He just looks him in the eye and whispers;
'I'll try.'
-
He whispers it as he looks out of his cell all those years later, and a few tears run down his cheeks.
'I'll try, James.' He murmurs, 'I'll try.'