āNo one got hurt. You didnāt hurt anyone, Remus.ā Though it had been a close call, a near miss.
For the third time in his life, Sirius was face to face with Remus after being absolutely positive he would never see him again.
The first time, theyād been fifteen, and after the prank, Sirius was sure the other boy would write him off entirelyāand indeed, the years after had been awkward, to put it lightly. The trust between them had been shattered, their friendship only strung together enough to keep their group whole on the surface, but not enough to tell him when Peter became the secret keeper, when theyād each suspected each other of being the spy.
The second time, he was hardly standing, mad and desperate, shaking as Remus pulled him into his arms in the Shrieking Shack, stood up for him, forgave him, helped him explain to Harry what had truly happened that awful night that his life ended.
And now, here they were: an escaped convict, a condemned Hippogriff, and a werewolf out of workāthe set up to a perfect joke. Sirius planned to get out of the countryāand he wouldābut he had needed to make sure, just one last time, that Remus would be alright. The night had gone so terribly wrong: the moonlight, Remusā sudden transformation, Peterās escape, the dementors. Siriusā stomach turned over as he looked at the scratch marks on Remusā human arms, marks Sirius himself had left when, as a dog, heād had to subdue him, to attack, to protect the kids: Harry, Ron, Hermione.
āIt was an accident. So you forgot the potion one timeāā Sirius waved away this information, as if it had not been nearly a deadly mistake. āYou were fine all year long, month after month. You donāt have to punish yourself. You donāt have to leave. Thereās nowhere safer for youāfor anyoneāthan close to Dumbledore.ā Except for me, he thought bitterly. Dumbledore, who had known all these years that he wasnāt the secret keeper but believed all the same that heād killed all those peopleāor simply hadnāt bothered to fight for him and prove otherwise. Dumbledore, who had helped Harry and Hermione save him that night. Sirius didnāt know what to think anymore.
āGo back, Remus. Go back to Hogwarts. Go have the life you deserve.ā
āI could have killed them.ā It was a roar that had his own ears ringing. He had never been a loud person. He didnāt need to be with friends like James, Sirius and sometimes even Peter. No, he enjoyed the quiet, he enjoyed speaking in hushed tones, a low timbre that calmed himself down when he read out loud or reassured people whenever they needed reassuring. Now though, he could not help but yell.Ā āI could smell his blood, Sirius. I could smell it. And all I could think about... All I w-wanted...ā He felt bile claw up his throat, the mere thought making him sick to his stomach, so bad that he stumbled backwards, eyes unfocused as he tugged at the clothes he had on, as if he was being suffocated by its confines.Ā
āAnd you know this wasnāt the first time, Sirius. I had missed my potions before. This isnāt going to be my last either. I... Theyāre only children...ā He dug both his hands in his pockets to keep from tugging, instead clenching them into tight fists, so hard he could feel his nails digging into his palms. He took another step away from the man before him, eyes glued to the floor as he tried to clear the storm in his mind.Ā
āAnd if it were so safe, you would stay too...ā He couldnāt help but grumble.Ā
He stiffened at the implied admission. Admission of what? Did he want Sirius to stay? Well of course, they had just found each other. Of course he would want him to stay.Ā
āI canāt go back. I donāt want to.āĀ