Chapter Text
Pathetic. Pathetic. Walburga’s curt, snide whispers were on loop in his head, deafening and relentless. She was right all along, he thought to himself as he rounded the corner at breakneck speeds. Two fifth year Ravenclaw girls scowled at the boy tumbling around the corridors, but their faces softened, and lips curled into coy smiles when the saw it was the famous Sirius Black, the resident heartthrob of the Marauders. On a normal day, Sirius would have humored them, leant back against the marble arches and flicked his jet-black hair and flashed his trademark smile. He’d have them nervously giggling and self-consciously fluffing their hair in a matter of seconds. Today was not a normal day though. It was surely the worst day of Sirius Black’s life so far.
“Get out of the way!”, he screeched, forcing his way through their linked arms and book bags, parchment and quills scattering across the floor as he fled. He willed his legs to carry him faster, his calves were screaming at him, but his brain kept him going. He didn’t have time to think, between the frantic worry and memory of Walburga’s insults, he was being driven on animal instinct alone. Would changing into Padfoot get him to the Gryffindor tower quicker? He quickly shook this thought out of his head and pushed his legs even harder. He just ran.
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“But how Wormy, how? It’s not exactly small is it? How could you have misplaced your broom?” James sighed, exasperated at his friend’s hopelessness. He pulled the blankets back down over Peter’s bed and climbed up off of his knees after looking for the broomstick underneath his bed. No such luck. Knowing Peter, it would probably end up in the Giant Squid’s grasp before turning up somewhere as obvious as the dorm room.
“I don’t know,” Peter said, sounding close to tears, “I was walking back from the Quidditch fields with you and Sirius but fancied some sandwiches from the kitchens. I definitely had it when I left though…”. He trailed off deep in thought, and James let him. He laid down on his bed with his hands cupping the back of his head, fingers working down his neck, trying to knead out some of the knots from Quidditch practice earlier that morning. He played out strategies in his head for the upcoming game against Slytherin, in each scenario Gryffindor won. They had to, James concluded. It was non-negotiable.
He was pulled back to reality by heavy footfall coming up the stairs to their dorm room, and Sirius, bellowing his name like a banshee. James was up in an instant, rushing to meet Sirius halfway. He almost fell through the doorway, leaning heavily on it to catch his breath. James’ immediate hopes of Sirius just being excited to share a new prank idea with the other Marauders quick faded from his mind; something was very wrong indeed.
“Pads, what’s wrong,” James asked, his eyes wide with worry. He closed the small space between them with a few urgent strides, placing his hand on his brother’s shoulder. Peter had stopped searching for his broom too, watching the scene awkwardly and carefully from the back of the room.
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Sirius made it to the room, but his haste had vanished, and he was frozen rigid on the spot, mouth agape and head spinning. He looked around, eyes flitting from James to Peter. His mouth had gone dry and his hair was plastered to his face from the exertion of running from the other side of the castle. James’ hand rested heavily on his shoulder. It felt very much like it was taunting him. He was sure James would never want to look at him, let alone touch him ever again once he revealed what he had done.
He could no longer look his best friend in his eye and turned instead to his shoes. His heart was hammering in his chest, more than it had been when he was sprinting through the school like a lunatic. He had to spit it out, or it would be too late. ‘Why bother running all the way here if you’re not going to tell them you coward?’ Sirius cursed himself inwardly. He knew what was coming, and he knew he had to fix his mistake before it was too late. He shifted his gaze once more, this time looking his friend in the eyes. James, as loving and compassionate as ever, kept his grip firmly held on Sirius’ shoulder and gave him a small nod, his wide and thoughtful eyes never once wavering when meeting Sirius’ own.
“I’ve messed up Prongs. Really badly, and I don’t know how to fix it,” Sirius’ voice was but a whisper. “Oh god what have I done?” he cried, eyes burning.
“Pads, mate come on, what is it? We can help,” James insisted, looking back at Peter for backup. Peter gave a small nod, but otherwise remained quiet. This seemed to satisfy James, who returned his attention to his quivering best friend. “Come on Pads, we’re the Marauders, we can sort this out whatever it is,” James assured him, punctuating this statement with a nervous laugh.
“No,” Sirius shook his head, “I don’t think we can this time. I told him. Snape. He has been goading me all week, more than normal. It’s Reggie’s fault, he’s been talking shit about me, I know he has.” Sirius shifted on his feet, shuffling his weight around in some pathetic attempt to work up the nerve to say what he needs to say.
“You told him? Told him what, Sirius,” James voice was curious, but with an edge that Sirius couldn’t identify. ‘He knows,’ Sirius thought, ‘Best spit it out then’.
“The Shack. I told Snape about the Shrieking Shack. I told him how to get in, how to hit the right part of the tree to stop him being hurt. I-I bet him that…” Sirius drifted off, looking at the floor once again, praying to any higher power that it would just swallow him up.
“You bet him what, Sirius?!” James demanded. The ever-present warmth in James’ voice had gone; it was dripping with contempt and a coldness Sirius had never before heard from his best friend. His hands dropped into tight fists at his side, his head held high. James was only slightly taller than Sirius, but in this moment, Sirius felt like James towered over him and was glaring down at him with a stare so furious it would have stopped Dumbledore in his tracks.
Afraid, frightened, but above all else ashamed, Sirius took a scrambled step backwards until his back hit the wall. Even Peter let out a small gasp at James’ outburst, though tried to hide it weakly with a pathetic attempt at a cough. Sirius was in no doubt that James knew exactly what he had dared Snape to do. He ran his fingers through his hair, willing his tears not to fall. He didn’t have any right to be crying, he did this to himself. He looked up and met the eyes of his boy he considered his brother. The boy who became his family. He had stared into his mother’s eyes and seen the exact same look many times. Disappointment. Anger. Hatred. He’d take this look a thousand more times from his cruel and demented mother, if it would just stop James from looking at him like this this one time.
“I bet him that he couldn’t get in, tonight. The full moon.” He spat this out with the utmost ease to Snivellus, but saying it again now felt like he was ripping his soul in two. James’ face seemed to pale and then immediately turn red with rage. He stayed motionless for a split second before shoving past Sirius with war-like determination. He flew down the stairs like a bat out of hell, taking the steps two at a time. Sirius looked up to see Peter stood rooted in the same spot he had been in the whole time. Peter couldn’t meet his eye. Sirius moved his attention to the staircase, which James had now completed and knew what he needed to do. He had to go with James and fix this mess he’d created in his juvenile bout of rage. He also needed to explain himself to his best friend.
“James – wait!” he screamed in desperation. He took the stairs as quickly has James has and reached the bottom to see James’ halfway across the common room already.
“Prongs, please, you don’t und- “James had turned around immediately and crossed the distance between then in an impossible time, and had his fists balled up in Sirius’ shirt. With a resounding thud Sirius’ back met the common room wall. His head smacked the wall and his teeth chattered together with the force of the assault. He felt dazed but nothing hurt him quite like the look in James’ eyes; they burnt with anger. He was so close their noses could have been touching and James’ anger was punctuated by short bursts of hot breath blowing on a strand of hair that had been knocked into Sirius’ face following the blow. Sirius’ own breath was shallow and wheezy, his torso felt damaged by the harsh slam and felt tight as James’ strong grip held him pinned to the wall.
Sirius dragged his eyes away from James’ to scan the common room. A quiet hush fell upon the room and the two boys were the center of attention. Lily had risen from her seat initially, the books that covered her lap had littered the floor surrounding her armchair. But she too was rooted in her place, eyes wide and fearful watching the events unfold in front of her. The stunned silence was broken by James.
“You do NOT call me Prongs. You do not follow me,” he hissed in Sirius’ face. He held fast with his hands still wrapped in Sirius’ collar, his eye contact remaining steady. James finally tore his eyes away when Peter reached the bottom of the stairs panting. His eyes darted between Sirius and James but settled eventually on his feet.
“Wormy, get McGonagall, tell her everything. I’m going to Remus.” James ordered without blinking. He turned his head back to Sirius for a final time, glancing him up and down once with distain. He released Sirius’s shirt and Sirius felt himself drop an inch or so. He hadn’t realized he’d been standing on his tiptoes. James turned his back and stalked off without meeting the eyes of any of the silent bystanders, not even Lily. He had taken a few paces away from Sirius when a wave of bravery overcame Sirius. He pushed himself off the wall that he had been pinned to and started after his friend.
“No, I’m coming too. We’re the Maraude- “. Sirius didn’t have the chance to deliver his speech. James span on his heel and pulled his arm back. The punch collided with Sirius’ face without hesitation or apology. James’ strength was undeniable, and Sirius crumpled to the ground in an instant. The pain shot through his face and skull as he let his body hit the floor. He tried to curl his hands up around his head to protect it, but his body felt like it was made of lead. Everything sounded like it was underwater, but he had no doubt that he could hear the gasps of horror and screams of his peers punctuate the room. He attempted to lift his head, but it fell back down to the ground with a thud. He tried again, but this time he pushed his upper body up with his arms, his elbows resting beneath him to support him. He could see James towering above him, face red and eyes wild. He drew his arm back again to strike his friend and Sirius turned his head and curled his body to shield himself. He was used to assuming this position at Grimmauld Place, but he’d never had to resort to this at Hogwarts before. His eyes were shut tight, but the punch never came.
Sirius braved a glace up to see what had slowed his assault. It was none other than Lily Evans. She’d placed herself between Sirius and James and stood over Sirius’ body, with one leg either side of his battered form. Her hands were outstretched towards James, but there was not a hint of fear on her face. But what she lacked; James had gained. His anger was gone, and his eyebrows were furrowed in fear and worry. His palms were outstretched in front of his chest in a sign of surrender. They fell back to his side, and his eyes searched Lily’s face for forgiveness. She seemed to grant it in a wordless exchange with James. He looked around sheepishly at the spectators of this conflict but quickly regained his resolve. He straightened up, shoulders back and head high as he turned and left through the Fat Lady’s portrait and hurried out of sight. He hadn’t given Sirius a second glance.
The silence was still permeated the common room, the attention now falling to the heroin of Sirius Black; Lily Evans.
“Well, don’t you all have things to be getting on with?” she demanded, folding her arms with an air of defiance. Sirius had never understood James infatuation with the quiet, goody-two-shoes Evans, but he got it now. She was fierce, loyal and kind. Damn. She turned to Sirius, still stood above him while he lay pitifully on the floor, arm still raised from where it had been covering his face. He felt Wormtail shuffle past them, muttering apologies and he dithered between running to McGonagall’s office as instructed by James or helping his injured friend. Sirius just nodded, which seemed to grant Peter the permission he was seeking to leave him and fulfil his end of the rescue mission.
With trepidation, the chattering of the common room was beginning to return, artificially of course. Sirius forced himself up off the ground to a sitting position and allowed Lily to squat down next to him. After all, she had saved him from being properly battered. Sheepishly, he raised his eyes to meet hers. They were confused and shiny, but she was trying to shield this with a veil of indignation.
“Honestly, will you lot ever stop making a scene wherever you go?” she joked humorlessly. She pulled out her wand from her robes and raised it to Sirius’ face.
“No,” he pleaded, “Don’t heal it. It’s fine. Thanks for your help and all that, but I’ve got it from here.” Sirius said callously. He tried to play it off, channel that cool, careless persona he had been working on for so many years. It worked on most people, but not Evans. She had never bought into his bullshit.
This time it seemed like she decided to play along though.
“Right. Okay, well you can explain everything to me then. Either that or I’ll confront James when he’s back from whatever mission you’ve sent him on.” She stood up briskly, leaving no time for questions or rebuttals, and held out her hand for Sirius to grab onto. He took it reluctantly, Merlin how he hated being the victim. He drew himself up to his full height and fussed with smoothing down his clothes and fluffing up his hair. He drew a deep breath, forgetting that his chest was still sore from…well, from getting what he deserved, he supposed.
“Lily, thanks. Honestly, thank you, I really mean it. But I can’t. Believe me, I’d love to talk to someone about it all right now but…just leave it yeah?” He pulled his lips into a tight smile and cast his eyes down. He turned away from her without looking up, he didn’t need to watch anyone else’s disappointment in him grow today. She didn’t call after him, but he kind of wished that she did. Doing his best to avoid any eye contact he limped back to the stairs leading up to the Marauders’ dorm room to lick his wounds and drink his way into oblivion.
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The first thing he did was rummage through his trunk to find the last bottle of fire whiskey that he had stashed for the end of term party in two weeks’ time, but he knew that whatever happened this evening that he would certainly not be attending any parties soon. He raised the bottle to his lips and heartily gulped one, two, three times and swallowed the burning liquid. The alcohol went some way to calm his shaking hands, but not the thoughts racing through his mind, so he took another gulp before making his way to the bathroom mirror to inspect the damage done to his face.
He knew it was bad before he even got there, his vision was swimming and obscured in his left eye from the swelling. He was sure that he could feel a trickle of blood making its way down his cheek too, but he couldn’t be sure of that. He stood pensively at this sink, grasping the edge and leaning on it, trusting it to support his off-balanced weight. After standing there for a while he forced himself to look up. It was quite a sight at first, but he reminded himself that he deserved it. It wasn’t quite as bad as injuries he had in Grimmauld Place, and he took comfort in that.
The blow from James’ fist had hit him squarely on his left cheek bone, cutting a deep gash into his face, just below his eye. Sirius raised a tentative hand off the sink, touching his wound gently. He hissed in pain as he made contact with the injury. By now his left eye was almost completely swollen shut, with a dark red, purply bruise blooming around the cut and up around his eye socket. His suspicions were right too, a long, scarlet dribble of blood was snaking its way down to his chin, which made the paleness of his complexion all the more pronounced. He looked defeated. He gazed into his own eyes, or rather eye, as the other was rapidly swelling. What had he done? To himself and to his dearest friends. He averted his gaze quickly, no longer being able to bear looking at himself. He turned the tap to run some cold water and cupped his hands beneath it. He bent down to splash it in his face, once again forgetting the soreness in his chest. He struggled on down to sink level though and washed away the blood and shame. Or so he wished.
“McGonagall is furious,” came Peter’s voice from the doorway. Despite his size, Peter could be quite the sneak when he wanted to be and had found his way back to the dorm without the causing slightest suspicion from the battered boy in the bathroom. The appearance of Wormtail shocked Sirius so much that his body jumped up in fright. His head shot up from the sink, connecting hard with the taps on the way up.
“Ahh, Merlin!” Sirius groaned, rubbing the back of his head. He pulled his hand away to see it coated with blood, the appearance of which was only worsened by the water that drenched Sirius’ hands.
It was enough to make Peter groan himself and take a tentative step towards Sirius.
“Can I help?” he offered nervously. Peter had never been the best at charms, and Sirius would rather that he didn’t attempt a healing spell on his head. That, plus he deserved the pain. It couldn’t absolve him of his crime, but he felt better for being hurt when he was causing so much pain himself. He shook his head at Peter, and Peter’s shoulders slumped in relief.
“What did she say, what did you say?” Sirius asked desperately, grabbing a towel and sitting on the closed toilet seat. Peter resumed his place leaning on the door frame watching Sirius carefully as he grimaced, patting his face dry while avoiding his injured left side, then moving the towel to cradle the back of his head to stem the bleeding there. He pulled the towel away to investigate the damage done. There was a fair bit of blood, but nothing to severe; he’d had worse.
He looked from the towel to Peter expectantly, eyes wide with fear and worry. Peter sighed, never good with delivering news of worth or importance.
“Hold that to your head Sirius, that’s a lot of blood,” he said, nodding to the towel. Sirius opened his mouth to bite back a sharp retort but stopped himself. This was not Peter’s fault; it was entirely his own. He closed his mouth and obliged to Peter’s request. He hoped that in doing this Peter would fill him in on the details he so desperately needed to know.
Peter was like that, always sharing any pieces of juicy information or gossip he had with the Marauders to feel worthy. But this time, Peter didn’t. He kept his gaze on Sirius for another second longer, pulled his mouth into a tight frown and let his posture slump. He pushed off the doorframe and stood quietly in the doorway and seemed to be contemplating his next move. He gave up, pushing his hands into his pockets and blowing out a long held in breath.
“I’m going to the common room, I’ll see you later I suppose,” Peter said in a forlorn, defeated kind of way. He looked Sirius up and down one more time, like he was examining him for the first time. Sirius let his eyes leave Peter’s and his head fall down between his shoulders, towel in hand still gripping the back of his head. He could feel it filling with blood, but he knew head wounds bled a lot.
“Yeah. Yeah, okay Wormy,” Sirius whispered in a soft, hushed voice, scared that by speaking any louder he’d somehow make this evening even worse. Peter turned and scurried off immediately, his feet tip-tapping away from the bathroom until Sirius could no longer here them.
Sirius looked up to where Peter was standing. From where he was sat on the toilet seat, Sirius had a clear view straight through the boys’ dorm to the window. He stood slowly, tentative on his feet, and sluggishly made his way to the window. He threw it open and sat on the windowsill, throwing his feet out and leaning against the frame. This is how he and Remus sat when they had a rare moment of uninterrupted peace in the dorm.
With one hand still clasping his head and the other wrapped around the window frame for support, Sirius braved a glance up to the sky. It was pitch black, a few stars twinkling. Perhaps he could see his own star, if he looked close enough. But there was only one thing Sirius was looking at: the moon. Full and bright, it was undeniably beautiful, but tonight it could be deadly too. Because of him. Sirius leaned his beaten head against the window frame and prayed with everything he had that they’d be okay.
Remus, God, please let Remus be okay. He needed him back more than anything. He needed him to be okay. And James. If anything happened to James now, he would never forgive himself. Never. Even Snivellus needed to be okay. He’d be so happy to see that greasy toe rag again he might even give him a kiss. He begged the universe to make it so. He didn’t know what he would do if something bad happened because of this. But then, given the circumstances, something bad was sure to happen. And it was all his fault. It was just a waiting game now, to see what consequences were to come of Sirius’ thoughtless actions. His mother was right. She had always been right. He was a failure, a corruption, a parasite. He was pathetic.