Chapter Text
From the moment light filtered through his eyes, Remus knew something was horribly wrong. First, the light itself. The Shack was eternally dark, and despite every memory within those wretched halls invoking a primal fear and disgust, it undeniably deserved the mark of respect he gave it. It made shudders dance across his skin, and his head spin with the knowledge of what was to come, the inevitability of it all, and the dread that seeped into his bones at the thought, but it was almost human, walls brittle yet protective, like the moment he stepped inside at eleven years old, he and that crumbling building shared a soul. But as his eyes cracked open, damp and stinging - bad sign number two - he didn't recognise the fog of gloom that greeted him every evening before and every morning after.
All he saw was sunlight.
For a moment, before his brain caught up with his nerves and his nerves caught up with his heart, he felt like a child. It was silly. Stupid, even. But wasn't that freeing? Wasn't it beautiful? He tried his best to swallow down the sting in his throat, as his fingers twitched atop crumbled leaves and twigs, as he shook away the memory of a little boy with skin grazed and filthy from a forest floor he would never see again. But the softness of bloody knees lent itself all too quickly to the sharpness of rotten fangs, and the stupidity became guilt became pain before he could even process the leaves beneath him.
The leaves…
Faintly, he wondered if James had snuck in that night. He wished he wouldn't be so reckless, but with James there was no saying no, no complaining, only relenting and letting that trademark grin wash over him. The boy often trekked through the Hogwarts grounds in his expensive shoes, dew plastering grass and leaves to the leather, which he shook off like it was nothing. Remus couldn't count the amount of times their dorm floor had stunk of wet grass - not to mention the suffocating stench of hormonal boys' sweat, but maybe that was just their dorm in general - after one of Gryffindor's Quidditch games.
He wondered if James was here now.
He wasn't, but it still struck him to wonder, just in case.
Remus' mind trailed back to the light, and he wrenched his eyes open, letting his head roll and face the source of it, wincing at the series of cracks that followed.
And again, all he saw was sunlight.
It blared down from above a dark, twisted canopy. The word beautiful came to mind, but it was drowned out by pure unbridled fear, and the image of rotten fangs he couldn't distinguish from his own. Remus shot up, ignoring his muscles screaming in objection, heart racing, head flooded with every possibility, each more disturbing than the last.
You got out. They promised- You're a monster. You deserve to be muzzled, put in a cage, put down, fucking anything. You're dangerous. You should kill yourself. You killed someone. Sirius, Peter, James - splayed hair, blood-stained skin, shattered glasses - Lily - wounds still flecked with dirt from the claws that caused them. You'll be expelled. You'll be sent to Azkaban. You're a disgusting, evil creature. Your Dad was right. You're soulless. A fucking infection.
The light faded to dark, and all he could remember before his head collided with the forest floor was an endless, agonising scream ripping his throat apart.
-
Sirius was curled up in the corner of his bed, for once regretting choosing the four-poster in the centre of the room. From this angle, he had a perfect view of James and Peter, both projecting their utter hatred onto him, unashamed, unforgiving. James - the first true friend he ever made, all that was good and gold and right with the world - paced the room, face contorted in such an uncharacteristically not-James face it almost felt silly. But he couldn't bring himself to laugh. Not now, not ever. He just wanted to hide, forever if he must, hide and crawl into the smallest crevices of the world until he was swept back into nothing.
James looked like he thought the same. Wanted him dead. Sirius didn't blame him.
In his peripheral, he saw Peter, and didn't that just make his heart ache. With one glance, he could see it all, the anguish, the conflict, a tear threatening to spill and lips quivering with anger. Sirius didn't think he had ever seen Peter angry. The urge to hide came back stronger, and he drew his knees to his chest and willed his sweat-dampened hair to cover his eyes, only so nobody could see him cry. It was too much. Much too much. He needed to leave.
One tear fell, and in seconds he could barely breathe, sobbing into his dirty hands - bloody, red hands - before he could stop himself.
"Don't-" James' voice, a voice that he once believed could only hold light and love, yelled out, something akin to a growl at the back of his throat. He flinched. It almost sounded like Remus, not soft, witty, shy Remus but the wolf. Moony. With that a jagged spiked memory speared his heart and sent him sobbing once more against his sleeve.
"I'm-" He tried to choke out, "James. Mate." There was no ignoring the hoarseness of his words, the red flushing his porcelain skin, the sweat beading at his forehead, the tears cascading down his face. He saw the shift in James' eyes, a flash of sympathy before his face melted and he sighed, resting a hand at the bridge of his nose before dragging it down his face with an exhausted sigh.
"There's not going to be a way to come back from this," James paused, eyes lingering on Sirius' trainwreck of a body, "I love you, mate, but you've gone too far this time. Too fucking far." At that, he saw something glint in the reflection of his glasses, but he turned his head away. Sirius could almost feel James' thoughts race, tension rising with the speed of his heartbeat.
"He hates me, doesn't he?" He asked, voice small and meek, so fragile the slightest noise could shatter him.
"I don't know, Pads…" James breathed, like staying calm would do any good, now, when all was done, when Remus and Snape were in the fucking hospital wing.
"He…he should."
Sirius whipped his head to see Pete, his Pete, their Pete, grimacing, curled in on himself just like him, but with the steady flow of anger coursing through him instead of remorse.
"Remus is going to forgive you," The boy corrected, the hint of nervousness in his voice giving him a twinge of hope, that maybe Pete was still on his side. He couldn't lose this. He wouldn't know how to breathe, "But he...well you nearly killed someone. He could've been expelled- he could still be expelled! Moons…doesn't deserve that."
"Not even Sniv- Snape deserves that," James released a deep breath, like the very sentence betrayed every fibre of his being, and took physical effort to get out. That's when Sirius did laugh, bitter and confused, somehow thrust into the fresh, raw body of an eleven year old too scared to think straight.
"It's still Snivellus we're talking about, right guys?"
"It doesn't make a fucking difference whether it's Snape, or anyone else in the bloody castle! It could've been Mulciber and I would still hate you-" James trailed off, eyes widening as he processed his words seconds after they came tumbling out of his mouth. He stood there, mouth agape as he forced himself to meet Sirius' eyes. Big, shining grey eyes that he swore he could never see unhappy.
"You hate me?"
"Merlin, no, Pads. Fuck, it's complicated."
"You hate me…" he breathed out, heart rate quickening, hands flying to his wrists in a movement that reminded him too much of Remus, the Remus that would never look you in the eye again, the Remus you hurt, the Remus currently bleeding in a hospital bed with no memory of anything but a sickly feeling of dread, Remus, Remus, Remus.
Without a second more to contemplate, he tore from the bed and bolted downstairs, ignoring the shouts of James behind him. He was too quick to feel the aching of his muscles as he drowned out all trivial background noise save for the pounding of his heart. Stairs turned from wood to stone as he shot through the castle, anywhere silent, anywhere where he could force out the guilt. By the time he wavered in his endless movement, hand instinctively clutching his side, and all senses flooded in at once. He stood there, head spinning as he tried to scrape up the last few dregs of logic left inside him, or at least gather his bearings. But every wall in this damn castle looked the same, all brick and endless invisible eyes closing in on him, the disgust and hatred palpable despite the fact he was, and always would be, alone.
Sirius didn't notice the smooth cold of the stone floor until his face was pressed into it, legs twisted protectively. He leaned into the sensation of cool tile against hot skin. Time seemed to slow, adrenaline wearing off until he felt hollow and worn, a shell of who he was, cracking ever further, pieces flaking, crumbling, succumbing to their fate as little more than worm food as he ground his body deep into the floor.
He was so fucking stupid.
It had felt so good, for a moment, before the twinge of doubt peppering his thoughts became thick, dense regret. A sort of giddy high overcame him. Sense and reason, two traits he was not known for anyway, lost all meaning and an addictive voraciousness for revenge took its place.
Snape, an utter dickhead in so many words, was not the sort of boy one felt sorry for, no matter how close one gets to ruining said utter dickhead's life. But James was right, wasn't he? Ruined. It was a bit of an understatement.
Sirius was one second from making his best friend into a murderer.
It hadn't sunk in yet, but as his nails reached for his wrists once more, it was hard to deny the weight that sentence held. The truth. Remus didn't deserve that. Snape may have, and he still yearned to make that bastard sorry. But Remus didn't. And yet he threw it all in his face.
Fuck.
His eyes blinked open, and like a twist of the dagger embedded in his heart, the white doors of the hospital wing came into view.
It took all he had in him to remember he couldn't just waltz in there. Remus wouldn't welcome that, an easy smile quirking up his lips, not like he normally did. If he wasn't horrifically injured and blacked out, Sirius knew he wouldn't be able to have a moment's peace without the self-destructive urge to let slip overcoming him. And then what? It would be over? Remus would never speak to him again, shaking and paranoid like a first year, his only sanctuary devastated in less than a minute of waking up?
The knife in his heart eased enough for him to wrench himself up, dragging numb limbs to the door and see the damage for himself.
Try as he might, he couldn't think of a possibility where Remus forgave him. That pale, freckled face, washed clean of blood yet still not washed clean of the sin Sirius forced onto him. Scars that he once fantasised about calling pretty as he traced them, sinking into deathly features.
Caught in childish hope, Sirius' fingers twitched towards Remus' face, the feeling of scars beneath his skin fading far too fast.
As tears fell from his face, all he could do was stand, stone-faced and exhausted, and wait to face the music.