Painted Scars // WOLFSTAR

Year Four: Heroics

The first thing Sirius noticed when he gained consciousness that morning was the bright light streaming into the room, peeking through the blinds and stinging his eyes. It was much too bright, and he had to squeeze his eyes shut to block it out.

The next thing he noticed was the pounding in his head. At the base of his skull and behind his eyes, his head throbbed with shooting spikes that pierced his vision and made him groggy.

Sirius groaned, pushing himself with one slender arm. His fingers found his forehead as he tried to coax away the throbbing ache uselessly. This movement, however, spurred a stirring in his stomach; and then the nausea hit like a wave.

Somewhat frenzied, Sirius pulled the thick duvet covers off of himself and ran to the loo, his bare feet padding against the floor loudly. Once he reached the bathroom, he collapsed to the floor and gripped the bowl, as heaves wracked his body. These dry heaves continued endlessly, but nothing came of them. Eventually, the nausea simmered, and Sirius wished he'd just thrown up to soothe his angered stomach.

Now that Sirius wasn't in immediate danger of spilling his stomach into the inside of the toilet bowl, he recognized that cold sweat that he'd broken into. His bare chest and back were clammy and damp, and he rubbed up and down the length of his arms to pacify the goosebumps that peaked on his skin.

"Sirius," James whispered from outside the door, gently knocking as to not wake the others. "You alright?"

Sirius shut his eyes a shivered against the cool tile. "Yeah, yeah. Just– could you bring me a jumper?"

"Sure, anything," James replied, and for several moments there was nothing but quiet. Finally, after a few cold seconds, James asked, "Can I come in?" Sirius nodded in reply, but after realizing James couldn't see him he called back with a yes.

The door creaked open, and James let out a worried sound when he saw Sirius's crumpled state on the ground. His head was still pounding, and James was letting in the light from the dorm room into the previously pitched black bathroom. At his wince, James must've realized his internal battle, because he shut the door and cast a weak Lumos.

"I think I have the flu," Sirius mumbled obviously.

When Sirius was younger, he never got sick. He'd play outside and touch things he probably shouldn't have, but he never got sick. This was a fact he and his brother would constantly argue about, because, unlike Sirius, Regulus would get sick constantly. Whether it was from biting his nails, or drinking too little water, or hearing someone sneeze three rooms away from him, Regulus would always catch sick.

But Sirius? He could count on one hand the number of times he'd felt under the weather, and this was the least ideal day for it to happen to him.

"No, not today!" James groaned, reading his mind. "Does this mean you can't come with us?"

"What? Of course, not!" Sirius replied, pushing himself up from the ground, but a wave of nausea caused him to stop and shut his eyes in hopes that it would quell it. "I'm fine, just... give me a sec."

"Sirius, if you're sick, you really shouldn't–"

"No! We only get to research once a month, I'm not missing it because my tummy hurts a bit." Sirius pushed himself up fully this time, refraining from wincing even though his stomach was doing uncomfortable flips. The pair were still whispering, which Sirius was grateful for. The backs of his eyes were throbbing from the ache in his head, and anything louder than a quiet purr would have Sirius clutching at his forehead painedly.

They'd been waiting for the next full moon for weeks one end, and Sirius had no plans to let a sudden bought of vomit too put a damper on their plans.

"Look, I'll have Madam Pomfrey fix me up in no time. Surely she's got a potion or something. I'll be fine by tonight."