Mischief Managed

November 1, 1981

As soon as Sirius couldn't hear the motor of his bike in the air, everything burst out. As much as he tried to act calm, as crazy he went now. It felt like someone had cut his heart out of his chest - but not with professional instruments, no, the dull pocket knives you'd give to children to carve figures out of wood - set it on fire and then put it back in, still burning like it was taken straight out of the fire of hell. It felt like someone had cast the worst Cuciatus curse of all times, and knowing it'd never stop made it even more painful. There was no spell someone casted, it was the tormenting, killing truth, the reality he'd be living with until he'd be reunited with his brother after death.

He took the plush dog out of Harry's bed. It was his favourite toy. James had magically changed it a bit so it would look just like Sirius's Animagus. Out of the three of Harry's "uncles", Sirius had been Harry's favourite. And this hadn't come as a surprise to anyone.

I failed.

This thought really came out of nowhere and hit Sirius like a wrecking ball. James had made Sirius Harry's godfather so that in case something happens to him and Lily, Harry could grow up at Sirius's. So that Harry wouldn't have to end up with Lily's sister and her terrible, terrible husband who Harry had never met.

Sirius sobbed and opened his mouth in a silent cry. He failed. Hagrid took Harry to Lily's sister. Sirius had met her once, maybe twice in his life but he hated her like poison. And he knew that Lily herself didn't like her that much anymore.

His thoughts wondered away. Remus ... Remus would probably be devestated when he found out. Oh Merlin, Remus. Remus would probably blame himself for Lily's and James's death. Sirius picked himself up. He had to get to Remus sooner than the news. He had to be the one to bring him the news, before he could get it from someone else. Remus would need him. He would need Remus.

He disapparated, the plush dog still pressed tightly to his chest.

***

Sharp pain shot through his arm as he landed in his and Remus's shared appartment. He cursing fell on his bottom. Apparently he hadn't been fully concentrated when disapparating (not surprising at all) and hadn't focussed on his destination properly and therefore splinched.
He tried finding his wand and pulled it with his hurt arm out of his hair where he had put his wand out of habit. His other arm caved in and he landed on his shoulder.

He heard a key turn in the lock and tried standing up.

"Merlin, Sirius, what are you doing there?"

Sirius exhaled reliefed and the pain in his arm reminded him that it was still there. Remus had arrived. "I ... apparate."

Remus carefully wiped his hair out of his face. "I kinda got that already. How long are you laying here?"

Sirius tried to shrug but his body refused to. So he shook his head, hoping Remus would understand.

"Okay, stay here. Don't move. I'm right back." Sirius knew that Remus, like every other proper wizard, had all the stuff you need to heal a splinched body part in his household. Remus went out of his view.

Sirius, who had been counting the stars in front of his inner eye, flinched as his wound started burning like hell. "What ... are you ... doing?", he managed saying with compressed teeth.

Remus pushed down his arm. "I gotta clean the wound first, idiot. That burning is normal."
Sirius gruntled but let Remus finish his treatment without any following protest.

A few minutes (or rather almost half an hour) later, Sirius layed on the sofa, high on painkillers, and his head in Remus's lap.

"What did you do anyway?", Remus asked and even if he didn't address it directly, Sirius still knew what he was talking about.