PART I SIRIUS
He's on his way out. James is on duty with Marlene and his flat is empty and terrible and he doesn't even care if he does something stupid because, quite frankly, Remus can go fuck himself. He has his coat on, keys and money jingling in his pockets, wand slipped up his sleeve, ready to go, when he hears the sound of footsteps on the stairs. Sirius freezes, staring at the door. He listens to the sound of the lock clicking, watches as the door handle turns. He tells himself he has no idea who's on the other side, that he should get his wand out, get ready for a fight. Because it could be anyone. But he doesn't.
Remus stops halfway across the threshold looking, Sirius thinks, unreasonably shocked to see him considering he lives here. If anyone should be looking shocked it's Sirius.
"You gonna close the door?" he asks eventually, voice flat.
"Oh," Remus sounds rough, like he's been shouting. Actually, he looks pretty rough all round—bruised and scraped and dirty. He closes the door but doesn't move any closer. Sirius doesn't think he's ever heard their home sound so quiet.
"Sirius?" Remus says finally, his voice wavering. Sirius has to close his eyes for a minute because he's so fucking angry, beyond angry, there isn't even a word for what he is. But it's obvious that Remus is in no shape to hash this out right now, so he has to just...find a place to put it.
"Take your clothes off," he says as he chucks his own jacket onto the sofa. "I'll start the shower."
"I—"
But Sirius is already walking down the hall. He's worried if he has to talk about this right now he won't be able to keep it together. Won't be able to hold back.
He's testing the water temperature when he hears Remus shuffle in behind him. Sirius probably focuses a little harder on the water than is strictly necessary, listening to the sound of Remus carefully folding his clothes and placing them on top of the toilet. Eventually Sirius forces himself to turn around.
It's work for him not to react to the state that Remus is in. He's seen him in rough shape before but this—his body is covered in bruises and welts, like someone's been beating him. Without even thinking Sirius feels himself reaching out but Remus shies away, looking down like he's ashamed. Sirius's hand freezes mid-air and then drops.
"You hungry?" he asks eventually, swallowing around the lump in his throat. "Shower, I'll make something."
"You don't have to," Remus says, eyes still on the tile floor.
"Okay. That mean you don't want any?"
He watches Remus scrunch up his swollen face and he wonders what the hell he's thinking. And where the hell he's been and how the hell he could walk away so fucking easily—but no. No. That train of thought isn't helpful right now.
"If you're making something anyway then—yeah, yeah I'd like some. Please," his speech is stilted. Stiff.
"Okay," Sirius says again. "Water's warm."
"Thank you."
"Sure." Sirius steps around him, heading for the door.
"Sirius—"
"Not now," is all he says, not bothering to stop on his way to the kitchen. He grabs hold of the counter when he gets there, pressing his palms to the cold surface and dropping his head. His breath shakes as he inhales. He has no idea what he's doing. Isn't sure who he's more angry with; Remus or Dumbledore. And those injuries...if he ever finds out who put those fucking marks on Remus he's going to—
A loud thud comes from the bathroom and Sirius is running before he even has time to think, throwing the door open to find Remus on his hands and knees in the shower. He looks up at the sound of Sirius entering, face twisted in pain.
