Painted Scars // WOLFSTAR

Year Five: Reverberation

Drip... Drip... Drip...

He ducked his head in shame. Snape's blood was dripping on his shoe, and yet Sirius somehow had the nerve to feel more remorse for James's injuries than Snape's.

Drip... Drip... Drip...

The pain from watching as Peter struggled to assist James up the hill increased tenfold when he was reminded that he couldn't do anything to help. As much as he wanted to crawl under James's arm to support him – to even fractionally make up for what he did – James had made it abundantly clear how uninvited Sirius was to do so.

He was forced to listen to James's pained exhales; forced to watch each time James patted Peter on the shoulder, indicating that he needed a break.

"James, if I could just–" Sirius tried, his voice watery as he reached out to hold James.

"Touch me, and I'll hex you," he snapped, jerking his torso out of the way. He nodded at Peter, the two of them hobbling further up the hill, ignoring Sirius's scorned clench of fists.

By the time they'd reached the top of the hill, the sky had dropped into complete darkness, lit only by the moon. Sirius stepped ahead of them, placing a hand on the door handle to the grand entrance. The brass was cool against his fingertips.

"Get on with it, would you?" James barked through clenched teeth, and Sirius didn't need to look behind him to tell that his leg was throbbing worse than ever now that the adrenaline had gone.

Sirius inhaled deeply, his stomach dropping as he pulled the doors open. It was a strange feeling – marching toward your doom. With a cruel sense of humour, he thought that this may have been the last night he'd ever see his friends.

With each step to the Hospital Wing, daggers knifed their way further into the heels of his feet. Then it was his stomach, and then his heart. He'd almost wished they could've taken it at a run, instead. No point delaying the inevitable.

When they did finally reach their destination, they were met by a horrible gasp that sent agony shooting hot down his spine.

"Oh my," Madam Pomfrey said with a startled breath, drawing her hands up to her face and covering her mouth. "What happened?"

James lowered Snape's body to the ground, and said in a very cold tone, "I need to see Dumbledore."

Sirius's eyes involuntarily slid shut. Around him, he felt Madam Pomfrey take Snape's body from them, and heard the distinct sound of shoes entering the Hospital Wing.

A blow to his shoulder forced his eyes open. "Come on, then," James said, fixing Sirius a steely glare. "You've made your bed. Lie in it."

The air was heavy as Sirius forced himself through the oak door, his footsteps swift and light against the linoleum tiles. The walls watched him. The ticking clock pounded with rage when it saw him. He shied away from the light when it peered at him too brightly.

"I don't know what happened tonight," Pomfrey said gravely, as she tucked Snape into one of the beds, "but whatever it is you did, I hope you regret putting this young boy's life in danger."

James and Peter both sent Sirius a look. He turned away, catching instead the sight of Madam Pomfrey pulling out her wand. From the tip poured a silvery wisp of air which turned into the slightly see-through projection of a small rabbit, before it hopped away into the distance.

"Headmaster Dumbledore has been notified," she said determinedly, turning back to Snape's unconscious body and performing a plethora of charms on him. "And, Mr. Potter, don't think that I don't see the break in your leg. Hop on one of the beds, and I'll assist you shortly."