Chapter Text
James’ first and foremost priority was bringing Whiskers to the hospital wing before meeting a very concerned Madam Pomperfy who almost sheirked from the amount of blood that covered his skin. She rushed to find Dumbledore and subseqeuncly, McGonagall. In the time slot he had before having to talk to his headmaster and teacher, James stumbled into the loo by the wing and everything seemed muffled.
Everything was disgusting. The thick, half dry, half wet blood that matted into his hair. Heavy, stick, dripping down the side of his face, thick, warm - far too hot. He wanted it off.
James clumsy turned on the faucet: running water, wet hands, grab the soap bar, lather — scrub, continue to scrub, rinse hands and watch as the ceramic sink fill with red. Repeat.
Running water, wet hands, soap, lather, scrub, rinse, watch as the ceramic sink fill with tinted pink. Repeat.
Water, soap, lather, scrub, rinse, clear water. Repeat.
Water. Soap. Lather. Scrub. Rinse. Clean.
Repeat. Repeat. Repeat. Until there’s no more blood.
He made sure to get underneath his fingernails, wrist, face, arms, remove bloodied shirt. Wash it away. Get the feeling off.
Throughout this all, James ran a mental checklist of everything he had to do before he could finally relax. Talk to Dumbledore, McGonagall, probably Sniv — Snape. Was Pete okay? He looked fine. Fuck, Whiskers knew - was she okay? And Moony… shit.
Poor Moony...
“Prongs,” Peter said gently. He clutched onto his forearm and tried to pry the soap out of his hands. “James, you have to stop.”
Tremors rocked James from head to toe. His brain was on autopilot and barley registered what Peter was even trying to say. He couldn’t stop trying to get the feeling off.
Water. Soap. Lather. Scrub. Rinse. Clean. Repeat.
“James!” Peter yelled. He slapped the soap bar out of his hands, thudding to the ground. James’ body jerked; pain flooding his hands and Peter turned off the faucet.
Peter went to take off his glasses, casting a few quiet charms before returning them. The lens were fixed, brand new and shiny. “Thanks,” he mumbled.
Peter watched James nervously, chewing on his body lip before rushing to grab a cloth, drying his hands but James wouldn’t have it. It was like clockwork, like someone cursed him with the impesui curse as he went to bend down, grabbing the soap bar. But then another prescenes crept up behind him.
“You’re going to scrub them raw if you —”
He pivoted his feet to stare at Black.
There weren’t words to describe how James felt. There was an internal alarm that keep going off internally. Anger took control of him, effectively snapping him out of his state; spreading limb to limb as if he was made out of fire.
“How. Could. You?” James gritted out the words one by one. His voice was completely dead, so unnerving that it caused Peter to step back. Not once had they seen him that mad, let alone that mad at Sirius.
“How could you?!” He repeated, yelling at him. “Do you realize that if you hadn’t told me — if you were a second late, they would all be dead right now? Remus is endangered of being thrown out or Merlin knows — put down? You could’ve gotten them all KILLED!”
In life, there are only a few things that are certain. Getting older, taxes, death… No matter how hard we try — people try, no matter how good our morals or intentions are, eventually, there will be mistakes. Usually it’s small, like burning your food, but there are times where fuck ups are huge, hurting everyone around. Say something — do something you don’t mean and it’ll end up with both sides hurt. If you want forgiveness, there are multiple soulations to gain it. There are even two words — obvious yet there, waving in front of your face - can be some of the hardest words to say.
Sirius fucked up beyond belief and now, there was nothing to do but wait and have those two words dangle on his tongue.
“I’m sor —”
It was like a switch flipped inside James. “No. You’re. NOT! You’re —”
There was a knock on the door and a muffled voice asking for him. It was Dumbledore.
James walked up to Black, finger jabbing into his shoulder. “Now I’m going to fix your shit.”