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The dorm room has never felt as lonely. Moonshine as the only light source, slipping through the opened curtains, but not into the closed canopy bed. Sirius hasn’t seen the outside of his four-poster –much less the dorm, in almost twenty four hours, actually. His stomach rumbles with a hunger he’s used to, after endless punishments at Grimmauld, and his hair feels oily and stiff against both sides of his face. He’s too tired to care.
It’s Saturday after a game, technically Sunday now, Griffyndor against Ravenclaw; it was an easy win, by Sirius’ standards. The party afterwards was legendary, or that’s what he heard from James, but he says that every time someone manages to sneak in firewhisky, or any type of alcohol whatsoever. Sirius was too drained after five days straight of studying for the NEWT-level classes he decided on taking, and the idea of doing anything but sleeping didn’t even cross his mind.
He slept for fourteen hours, until Peter woke him up for breakfast, hitting with unnecessary force one of the wooden columns of his bed. He just grumbled nonsense as a response, not finding the strength to get up, and was left alone staring at the carving on the wood panel overhead. It was in moments like these where the lack of Remus' warmth next to him hurt more than the cluster headaches he’s used to getting by now, a beautiful and memorable gift from his mum.
Sirius has tried to apologize countless times since Remus was discharged by Poppy, but it was all fruitless. He gave him space when Remus asked, even made himself a dorm room out of the Room of Requirement, and slept there the rest of the term. He stayed at Hogwarts for the Christmas holidays after accidentally overhearing a conversation between the other marauders: Remus complaining about his dad’s constant bad mood, James inviting him to the Potter Manor, Peter tagging along. Sirius, clearly, couldn’t go back to London with the Blacks, but it wasn’t an option going with the Potters to Yorkshire Dales, either. So he stayed.
When the student body was complete once again on January 3th, the loudness in the halls made Sirius want to rip his hair out. After two weeks of complete silence shadowing his brother and his friends like a ghost around the almost-empty castle, the dramatic amount of people in school grounds was so sudden it felt like a culture shock. James found him in the astronomy tower, smoking his second pack of the week, and the scrunch up expression he made at the smell was so undoubtedly James that Sirius felt a lump in his throat for the nth time. He just looked at Sirius, or whatever was left of him at the moment. All messily tied back hair and purple bags under his eyes. His eyes bloodshot red because of the smoke, or the sleep deprivation, or the alcohol abuse as a remedy for nights with no shuteye and too many thoughts. Or the weather. Sirius wasn’t sure.
He was painfully aware of the miserable state he had, and James’ eyes on him made him severely nervous. It took him five minutes to say anything, a pathetic, raspy “Hi” that made James’ stare turn even sadder.
“Come back to the dorm. Please.” was all James said in return. Pleading, almost begging. “It feels too lonely without you.”
And oh. Wasn’t that just what Sirius needed to hear? What he prayed for every night since he was an annoying child? It felt too good to be true. The emotion in James’ voice when he uttered those godforsaken words, the way the last one came out broken, felt like a product of one of Sirius’ nightmares.
“No one knows where you’ve been,” he continues, to sirius’ dismay. “Where you’ve been sleeping, if you’ve been sleeping, or eating. We’re worried about you, pads.”
Sirius tried really hard not to show how much that last sentence broke him, but realized it was a futile attempt when James got closer, and rested his hands on both sides of sirius’ face. That’s when he felt just how damp his cheeks were. After a few more words, it was set. James helped him down the railing, grabbed his backpack for him, and led the way to the Gryffindor tower. Sirius just followed behind like a kicked puppy.
The dorm was empty and James made him get in bed, not caring that it was three in the afternoon. Before falling asleep, laundry detergent and broom polish drowning his senses, he remembers asking “Is he okay with this?”, not needing to specify who “he” was, and stayed awake long enough to hear james’ mumbled answer.
“I’m not sure, but it’s your dorm, too, and I can’t risk having you out of my sight again.”
...
A month later, and the “I’m not sure” James gave him was evidently a “NO” in bold red letters, highlighted and with exclamation marks at the end, judging by the raised voice Remus used when he saw him later that day, and the cold shoulder Sirius's been receiving ever since. Peter has softened up a bit, but his eyes are filled with pity every time he looks at Sirius, and that’s worse in his opinion.
The dormroom feels way too empty and still. Unnaturally silent. Sirius is aware that’s his fault. It wasn’t like this before the whole deal with Snape, now Sirius doesn’t remember how stringing words together feels like, James tries to ignore the tension between his friends, filling silences with nonsensical blabber, Peter spends most of his time studying or downstairs with the girls, and Remus straight up ignores Sirius whenever he’s around.
It was expected, and he feels in no way deserving of forgiveness, but it still hurts. The repressed emotions make a home of his chest, and the weight of it is enough to have him tied to the bed that Saturday. Playing that match yesterday was a dream come true, the first one he’s played since October, as that was also part of his punishment. James talked Minnie into letting him play, and Remus couldn’t care less when asked. The indifference was almost enough to make Sirius regret the moment James convinced him to come back, but James was so excited, and Sirius missed that version of his friend so much, letting him down felt like an even worse alternative.
Even after that match, the happiest and most alive he’s felt in months, that pressure in his chest, some evil entity wrapping its hands around his heart, his lungs, his neck, made it impossible for him to get out of bed. It hung bags with stones by his feet, knees, hands, shoulders, even his head, as some kind of punishment. He felt a bit like Prometheus, hanging on the side of a cliff with a giant bird constantly eating him alive. The difference was, he did nothing noble. He just risked his best friends’ lives to distract Snape out of his brother’s. He doesn’t know how long his roommates spent at breakfast, nor remember when they came back. He spent the day in a trance, still and counting his breaths. Around noon, after James went to his biweekly studying session with Lily and Reg, taking Peter with him, and Remus disappeared immediately after, Sirius tried getting up and actually doing something productive, like homework, but his brain was too numb, so he completed a worksheet with whatever words came to mind first and went back to his hiding spot under the covers.
He probably fell asleep again eventually, waking up with a plated sandwich on his nightstand he didn’t feel capable of stomaching. A quick tempus revealed the time to be around one in the morning, but he didn’t have the energy to open the curtains shut around him. Just the effort of sitting up felt herculean, but his hair was starting to bother him a bit too much. Weighing his options, he decided that a shower couldn’t be too laborious.
Standing up almost had him falling back down, though, and the loudness of his steps had him cringing the whole way. Peter slept like a rock, and James’ medication made him completely unwakable until sunrise, so it wasn’t a problem. It was Remus who Sirius was worried about, even though he was unsure if Remus even was there in the dorm. Remus, who woke up seconds after Sirius started sniffling and making a loud effort not to cry after nightmares, who woke up with a jolt every time the bathroom door was opened, no matter how lightly. Lately, though, Sirius slept right through the night terror, and when he woke up, it was always in some kind of sleep paralysis state. He doesn’t think Remus would care even if he started sobbing violently.
The tiles were uncomfortably cold at the touch, and the ceiling light was blinding at best. Sirius doesn’t know how long it took him to undress, the mere sight of his body enough to make him shudder. His skin was sickly pale, his bones too visible for his comfort. It was truly disgusting. Way too manly for someone as fluid as Sirius used to be. Gender norms were never his forte, he never cared enough, or cared too much to erase the lines, using clothes, make up, even his own hair, as self expression. He was always too feminine for his family, too masculine for the closeted homosexual boys he used to make out with behind the greenhouse, too androgynous for anyone to be able to figure him out. It was always his favourite thing about himself, how unpredictable he was. The highlight of his day was the moments he had to experiment; with himself, his clothes, Marlene’s clothes, even Dorcas’ make up once. He never considered any of that crossdressing, or anything of the sort, as Sirius considered himself above gender binary, but he knew what some of the students said, not really behind his back. He wasn’t raised to care.
Now, though, he felt so disconnected from all of that, it was dizzying. Getting in the shower was even more of an effort, turning the water on, letting it run along his face, even if it was hot enough to burn, that was routine. He arranged the shampoo and conditioner bottles along the rim of the bathtub, before sitting down completely. It wasn’t the first he did that, nor the last, but it felt like the easier option. Noddy knees against his chest, his fingers running through the tangled mess that was his hair and applying the product bit by bit. He could feel the now-cold water on his skin, no idea for how long, and he just stayed there, with his head on his knees.
Abruptly, the water was cut off. It took him a bit to realize, as the coldness he felt before because of the water was immediately replaced by the cold air coming from outside the bathroom. The difference was minimal to his numb brain. The sound of a voice slowly calmed his ragged breath, the rough hand applying pressure on the back of his neck grounded him a considerable amount. It all felt too familiar.
“... you know it’s not the first time I read it, yes? But it’s just a nice book, that for some reason I half-expected her to end up single, and not with that god-awful prof…-”
It was Remus.
That realization made him start with a jolt. The hand he had on top of one of Remus’ felt almost like a violation. He was quick to take it off, and back away as quickly as he could to the farthest corner. He didn’t notice he was apologizing until he heard Remus shushing him.
“Shh, it’s okay, pads. No need to say sorry, I promise.” But even if he wanted, Sirius couldn’t believe him. He felt a little insane at the moment, not knowing if that boy in front of him was actually there, or was a product of the inherited madness. “Look at me.”
And how could Sirius disobey him?
“There you go, love, thank you. Let’s get out of here, yes? I don’t want you to die of hypothermia.”
It was a hustle, getting out of the tub, getting himself dry enough for the clothes not to stick on his skin. Remus helped him with his hair, combing the abused locks, that mere touch making Sirius break down, again. Sobs bubbling out of him, he felt helpless. Remus didn’t ignore it, but didn’t look at him with pity, either. Just continued to gently untangle every section, giving him a small smile in the mirror every so often.
…
It was bound to happen eventually. The whole situation felt like salt in a wound Sirius had been trying to close for months. The sweetness in Remus’ voice, the gentleness of his touch, after months of being ignored and only getting monosyllabic responses, felt like a cruel joke.
“I talked with your brother, you know? He told me how you befriended the Slytherins during break.” Remus said, no tone in his voice.
Sirius slipped his fingers through his hair again, the hardness of the wall on his back felt somehow comforting.
“I didn’t.” he answered. He tried to take the defensiveness out of the words, but it was useless. “We weren’t —aren’t, friends, I mean.”
There was no need to be defensive, Remus hadn’t accused him of anything. But it somehow felt like an attack, the idea that maybe, the only reason Remus was talking to him now was because Sirius having friends after what he had done wasn’t something he agreed on. Or maybe he was just overthinking.
Remus looked at him with a questioning look, and it felt in a way like those long stares Fleamont gave him every time he smelt liquor in his breath, but his gait was straight and his words coherent. Sirius just sighed and dropped his head.
“They are not my friends, Remus. I don’t know what you want me to say.” he said finally. Too afraid to look at the boy sitting in front of him, he outlined the shape of his purplish fingers. “Yes, I spent time with them, okay? But I just tagged along, I swear. It’s just. Reg didn’t want me on my own for some reason, which is just stupid. I can take care of myself, he shouldn’t be looking out for me. I am supposed to be his older brother, but it’s like I am unable to do even this simple task, since the last time I tried to do that Snape almost died. I don’t really care about that, I’m sorry, but I do regret involving you. I shouldn’t have…-”
He was ranting. He was actually ranting, making a fool of himself. It was funny actually, the first time since October that Remus did more than sparing him an angry glance, and he was wasting his chance apologizing because of his own uselessness and insecurities, things that Remus had no fault in. This was a clear example of why Sirius was unable to keep any friendships. Maybe it was hardwired in his brain. Who knows.
When he raised his head, getting into eye level with Remus, the emotion in his eyes was a punch on the gut. After just looking at each other for three minutes straight, Remus straightened his back.
“What do you mean?” he asked, quietly.
“I’m confused, Remus,” Sirius answered, truthfully. The name felt like sandpaper in his throat, the desperate need to use that well-known nickname a chosen poison.
“About your brother. And Snape. What do you mean? Sirius, please.”
Remus sounded so desperate like that, pleading for something as simple as knowledge. Pleading . Something so foreign to Remus, even during the most intimate moments, that it was enough to take Sirius aback.
“I’m really sorry, Rem–”
“No, not that. Why was your brother involved? How?”
“Ah.” Sirius responded, playing with his fingers and looking back to his crossed legs. “It’s nothing. It’s just. Snape was saying some shit, back in September, yeah? Remember?”
“Yeah. ‘Bout the D.E meating he had hosted at his house?”
“Yes. Well, not really at his house, but yes. So… yeah. In October the day that– that day. He said something about how my brother had been invited or something, but he was yet too young to join legally. Which, I mean, it was bound to happen.”
“So you sent him after me because he reaffirmed something you already knew?” Remus started standing up, scoffing, muscles tensing up with anger, but Sirius was quick enough to wrap his finger around the scarred wrist.
“Wait! No, it’s not that.” Remus nodded and sat back down, a tired expression on his face. That’s when Sirius realized it was maybe well past two, and he had almost shouted. He would consider it a Christmas miracle if they didn’t get detention, despite it being February.
“So?”
“He pulled me aside after lunch, Snape. Pinned me against the wall, I don't know how. And told me how he’d mention the option of Regulus being marked earlier than planned. How Avery’s parents were intimate friends with Riddle, and he had taken an interest in my brother’s cunning or whatever. I don't remember when, or to who, but he was so convinced . Said that he’d have the honor of being present during Reg’s branding ceremony– whatever it’s called, and that it’d take place at Grimmauld, obviously. He asked me if I wanted to join, can you believe it?” he scoffed, before breathing in, and counting to ten.
“He said that my letter would be arriving shortly, regardless of my answer, after the decision was actually taken and official. Merlin, he–, he said that none of my friends would make him not go, with some stupid prank like usual." after saying that, Sirius had the urge to slam his head against the wall, not for the first time, but the voice was louder. Remus gasped and opened his mouth like a fish. Sirius had half a mind not to laugh.
“I told him about our evening plans. Said that he should come with us that night, see if he was so sure of my friends not stopping him. I don’t– I don’t know why I said that, okay? He tensed up after I finished talking, let me go. I went to tell Reg, and we talked. He was so scared, Rem. I haven’t seen him as scared since my first year.”
After a few minutes of total silence, Remus cleared his throat. Sirius cracked his fingers just to have something to do, and swallowed the lump in his throat.
“I want to be the bigger person, Sirius, trust me. Just. Stop saying you’re sorry. I forgave you months ago, I know you’re sorry.” Remus stood up completely, joints making concerning noises. He extended his arm in Sirius' direction and waited for permission before gently cupping his jaw. “It’s just– a lot.”
“I know this doesn’t excuse what I did, nothing ever will. It was stupid and childish. I know that.” whispering the words made it feel less vulnerable, for some reason.
He had never been one to apologize, or regret, or hold himself accountable. Sirius Black had too much pride for that, and it physically hurt when he understood that Remus may never forgive him, the same way he never really forgave his parents for everything they had done. He loved them, how could he not? It was inevitable, biology, astrology, whatever you want to call it. He loved Walburga and Orion like a dog, unconditionally, painfully, even when the only way to get their attention was by acting out, even when nothing he did was enough to please anyone. Even when the only reaction was violence. Maybe that was his love language.
He knew what he did was unacceptable, the true kind. An abomination, repulsing. Remus had every right not to forgive him, or even acknowledge him ever again. And still, he did. Somehow. Probably not completely, that was kind of impossible. Their relationship would never be the same, it never was after trust was lost. Sirius had experiences that so many times it felt like a deja vu, but this was the first time a quick joke and a cheeky smile wouldn’t be able to ease the sour feeling of regret, or clear the threatening shadow over them. They’d have to clear it themselves, it wouldn't go away on its own.
Sirius was so tired of hiding around, of escaping, making himself smaller, but he would gladly do it if it meant Remus would talk to him in class, or think of him kindly once in a while. His friends weren’t so wrong after all, he really was a dog. Reactive and biting-prone, he made messes and was never there to see how they got fixed.
He didn’t want to be like that anymore.
“I don’t even expect it of you to forgive me. I want it, more than anything in the world, but I know you, darling, I do.” he breathed out and raised his head so he could look Remus in the eye. “I don’t want you to do anything you’re not ready to do, and what I did was really shitty. I just hope you don’t hate me as much eventually.”
Sirius stood up, Remus’ hand still on his face, his own hand on top of it, and got as close to Remus as he could without touching him. Sirius could see the tears welling up in Remus’ eyes, and could feel some of his own running down his cheeks, salt on his lips.
Remus breathed in, closing his eyes momentarily, before saying in no more than a whisper, “I don’t hate you.”, and resting his forehead on Sirius’.
They exited the bathroom, their hands still interlinked. Sirius was guided to Remus’ bed, under the covers, curled around Remus, his head on his shoulder. With his fingers running the length of Remus’ abdominal scars, the thiccer, shinier, more prominent ones, Sirius started contemplating the idea that, maybe, this sort of closeness, warmness, gentleness, was something he could get used to again. Maybe not everything upcoming was so bad, so tainted with doom. And for the first time in his life, the concept of a future spent aging next to his friends and family didn’t seem so utopian.
“I want to fix this.” he mumbled, way too close to dozing off.
“We will. We already are.”