The Marauders Year Five Part 2 #Wattys2017

Feeding Achyls

Feeding Achyls

That night, Sirius lay in his bed in the dorm, alone, because Remus was still way off in the hospital wing, and he stared at the moonlight reflected on the ceiling and he felt sick to his stomach. It had been bothering him since James had said it - what would happen after school? Seventh year had seemed like centuries and eons and infinities away until that moment, when the silence had fallen over the four of them in the hospital wing. He talked a long line about being invincible all the time, but he suddenly felt quite vicible, or whatever. He sat up, unable to sleep, and he reached over the gap between beds and nudged James's sleeping shoulder.

"Potter."

There didn't come an answer.

"Are you awake James?"

No answer.

"Peter?" he tried.

Also no answer.

Sirius rolled out of bed and got up, pausing to draw a bottle of firewhiskey out of the desk drawer, and went over to the window, jumping up to sit on the sill, his feet pressed against one side of the window frame, his back against the other, his side smushed to the cold window glass. He pressed his nose against it, his breath fogging it up as his eyes peered down, down, down...

If this window broke right now, I'd fall for infinity. I'd fall until I died. I'd fall 'til I hit that turret over there and ended up speared like a fish, he thought morbidly. He closed his eyes. He wished Remus was there. Remus always made him feel better.

He unscrewed the lid on the firewhiskey bottle and took a long swig of the amber liquid. He closed his eyes and swirled the bottle around between his knees for a moment, then his eyes turned back to the window pane.

Would anyone miss me?

Stop that. Of course they would miss you.

But just the three of them. Nobody else.

Sirius couldn't deny that.

The three are all that matters, was how he quenched that particular thought.

Sirius took another long swig of the whiskey.

He wondered what he would do without the other three Marauders, how different his life would've been if it wasn't for them existing in his life... He was so thankful that Peter, James, and Remus were his mates. The best mates a fella could ask for. They were everything to him, everything, and fuck anybody that thought they could come between them, anybody that thought they could break up the Marauders, or hurt any one of them...

Fuck Severus Snape, Sirius thought, remembering the expression of absolute contempt Snape had worn in the entrance hall... "Convenient, isn't it? Mr. Lupin getting sick just before the full moon..?" Snape's voice rang in Sirius's ears.

He drank more whiskey.

He was getting uncomfortable on the window sill as he was by then, so he peeled himself away, sliding down to the floor, gripping the firewhiskey by the neck. He staggered past the end of Remus's made bed and past Peter and James's to the door and he made his way (slowly) down the stairs to the common room. It was dark and quiet and the fireplace was empty and he went over to the carpet before it and he put the firewhiskey bottle to his mouth one more time and then put it down on the coffee table. He was dizzy, so he slowly laid down on the carpet on his back and stared at the ceiling, his palms on his chest, just breathing, floating on the firewhiskey and trying to forget everything there was to forget.