Chapter Text
Regulus’ fist connected before Sirius even registered it.
A sharp crack, a flash of pain, and Sirius staggered back a step, blood blooming across his lip.
“You absolute idiot!” Regulus’ voice was shaking and ragged from shouting and smoke. “What the hell were you thinking? Throwing yourself in front of me like that?” His hands flexed, knuckles white around his wand. His eyes burned, but were surprisingly glassy, fury and terror warring across his face. “You could’ve been killed!”
Sirius wiped the blood from his mouth with the back of his hand, shaking his head. “I wasn’t going to stand there and watch my brother die.”
“You don’t get to decide that!” Regulus shot back, his voice wavering under the disbelief. “You don’t get to decide who dies for whom, Sirius! You don’t–”
“I wasn’t deciding,” Sirius snapped, shoving Regulus back slightly, his own hands trembling from the adrenaline. “I was saving you.”
Regulus clutched his wand like he didn’t know what else to do with it and stared at Sirius like he couldn’t quite believe the man standing there. Sirius took another step closer, his voice came shaky now, the memory of the morning he picked up the Prophet and read that horrible headline forcing itself to the forefront of his mind.
“Reggie…I couldn’t,” Sirius swallowed around the lump quickly forming in his throat “I couldn’t let it happen again.”
Regulus froze, eyes wide, the fire in them flickering to shock and disbelief. Then, soft, trembling, almost breathless: “And you think I could?” His voice caught, like Sirius had just unspun the truth and left him holding the pieces.
Sirius blinked, and the noise of the battlefield, the smoke, even the lingering adrenaline, all of it fell away. He stared at his brother, and a wave of relief washed over him, mingling with something like awe, disbelief, and fear finally giving way.
“I…Reggie–” Sirius’ voice faltered. His chest tightened, throat closing as years of fear, loss, and longing pressed down on him. All he could do in that moment was stare, unable to believe the impossible truth before him. His hands trembled, as if afraid the smallest touch might shatter the fragile admission. But the distance was unbearable. He reached out and with a force born of desperation and relief, he pulled his brother into a hug that was almost frantic, a desperate grasp that felt more like clinging to life itself than comfort.
Regulus stiffened for a moment, then shuddered into Sirius’ shoulder, his own arms wrapping hesitantly around him. The warmth of it hit Sirius like a tidal wave, and he squeezed harder, burying his face in the younger man’s hair, letting the relief, the fear, the disbelief, the love pour out in one shaky, ragged exhale.
“You’re an idiot,” Regulus shakily murmured into his shoulder.
Sirius’ lips pressed against the crown of his brother’s head, letting out a small huff, a mix of laughter and tears. “Yeah,” he whispered, “We both are.”
Sirius held his brother, something he hadn’t done since he was twelve. He felt Regulus’ heartbeat against his chest, the warmth of him alive and real. Around them, the battlefield was unraveling. Noise thinned into scattered skirmishes, curses fizzling, and the last defiant shouts of those too stubborn to surrender echoed faintly through the smoke-churned air.
Sirius pulled back slightly, still gripping his brother’s arms, and James was there in an instant, wrapping his own arms around Sirius. Tears streaked down his nose, but his grip was firm and sure.
“You fucking berk,” James muttered, sniffling, “Don’t you ever do something so monumentally stupid again.” He pulled back just enough to grasp Sirius by the shoulders, giving a light shake. “I can't always be there to shield you.”
Sirius smirked, wiping the blood and sweat from his face. “I was just giving you something to do, can’t have you getting bored Prongsie,”
James’ lips twitched, exasperated but amused, as he shook his head. “You’re impossible,” he said softly, relief lingering in the tremor of his voice.
Before he could say another word, a blur of red hair came hurtling toward him. Lily slammed into his chest with enough force to knock the air out of him, arms locking around his neck in a fierce hug. Her breath caught, a sound between a sob and a laugh, as she buried her face against his shoulder.
“You absolute idiot,” she said into his coat, her voice muffled and shaking. “You promised you’d be careful!”
Sirius let out a soft, breathless laugh, his arms tightening around her just as fiercely. “I was careful! Well–mostly. There might’ve been…a touch of dramatics.”
Lily pulled back, eyes bright with tears and fury in equal measure, and smacked his arm, hard. “A touch of dramatics?” she snapped, though her mouth was twitching dangerously close to a smile. “You nearly gave me a heart attack, you bloody menace!”
“You’re one to talk!” Sirius shot back. “What are you even doing here? You’re supposed to be with Harry!”
James appeared at her side then, sliding an arm around her waist and pulling her in close. “Not that I’m not glad you’re here,” he said, giving her a look of equal parts love and reproach, “but I’d also quite like to know what possessed you to run into danger. We had an agreement–one of us needed to stay safe for Haz.”
Lily bit her lip, guilt flickering across her face. “I know,” she breathed. “But I couldn’t just sit at that school and do nothing. When the call came, I had to come. And Harry’s fine, he’s with McGonagall, probably charming her out of every biscuit she owns.”
That got a warm laugh out of Sirius. He even felt Regulus’ shoulder shake with a quiet huff of amusement beside him. For a fleeting moment, amid the wreckage and smoke, the three of them looked almost like they used to, alive, young, and together again.
From somewhere behind them came a hesitant voice. “Is he dead?”
The laughter died at once,the simple question hung in the air, shattering the warmth of the moment and dragging them all back to the present.
Across the field, Moody was hauling Dumbledore to his feet, both men limping toward the crumpled body that had once been Voldemort. Dumbledore stood over it, his face a strange mixture of exhaustion and sorrow.
Moody’s gravelled voice carried across the clearing. “Aye. He’s gone.”
The declaration tore something open. A scream of devastation ripped through the still air. A sound too human to belong to a creature like her.
Bellatrix.
Sirius’ head snapped toward her. She was on her knees, the dirt streaked with ash and blood beneath her nails. Her body convulsed as if her very soul had been torn from her chest. Her wand slipped from her hand, forgotten, rolling uselessly into the grass. She was shaking, eyes wild with disbelief.
“No,” she rasped, clawing toward the fallen body that was no longer her Lord, dragging herself through the ash and dirt. “No, my Lord, my Lord, rise…please…” Her voice cracked into a high, strangled sob. “You can’t–”
She lurched forward again, trembling hands outstretched toward him, but Frank’s binding spell hit before she reached the corpse. The chains wrapped around her wrists, pulling her back sharply. She screamed again, an animal sound, throwing her head back, her hair sticking to her face with sweat.
Alice hesitated, wand raised, but she couldn’t quite bring herself to move. Neither could Sirius.
He watched her with something dangerously close to pity.
His mad, brilliant cousin, who had laughed as she killed, who had worshipped a monster, who had burned her own humanity down to ash…was gone. What remained was a ruin in the shape of a woman. Her laugh came in hiccuping gasps, torn between sobs and hysterics. She tried to curse the chains, but the words broke apart on her tongue. The fire in her eyes was guttering out, replaced by a hollow, bewildered terror.
Sirius remembered her at sixteen, wild and beautiful and cruel, eyes full of a fire that made the whole world bend away. Now that same fire was eating her alive from the inside.
“Bella…” he whispered, the name leaving his lips before he could stop it.
She didn’t look at him, didn’t see anything at all. She was mumbling nonsense now, fragments of the Cruciatus, half-spoken pleas to gods who weren't listening.
He wanted to hate her. He should have. But watching her crumble like that, he only felt a deep sorrow. For her. For all of them. For what the House of Black had made of its children.
A touch on his arm startled him. Regulus stood beside him, face pale in the torchlight, eyes locked on Bellatrix as she convulsed in the dirt. His hand tightened on Sirius’ sleeve, fingers digging in as though he were anchoring himself.
“That,” Regulus murmured darkly, “is exactly why we have to fix our family.”
Sirius looked at him, at the younger brother he’d thought he’d lost forever, and felt something sharp and determined pierce through the exhaustion. He reached up, covered Regulus’ hand with his own, and nodded once.
Though he didn’t voice, despite it burning on his tongue, that the House of Black wasn’t his to save anymore. Its legacy could rot, its name could burn. The only piece of it he still cared about was standing right beside him.
For Sirius, the family crest, the motto, the gilded rot of their bloodline, all of it was dead and buried. But Regulus…Regulus was different. He was the one good thing that had crawled out of the wreckage of that family, proof that even in a cursed house, something pure could survive.
Sirius tightened his grip on his brother’s hand, feeling the warmth, the steady pulse beneath his fingers, and he let himself simply be here with the one part of his family that still mattered.
The House of Black didn’t deserve saving.
But Regulus did.
“Shackle the rest!” Moody barked, already moving, ignoring Bellatrix’s wails. “Kingsley! Medical triage to the right, by the treeline, away from all that smoke. Captured to the left. No one leaves this field without my say!”
He yanked out his wand and sent a brilliant flash of silver streaking into the sky, a Patronus, its shape lost in the haze, soaring into the dark to summon reinforcements.
Sirius watched it go for a heartbeat, until reality slammed back in. Moody was turning toward them. Sirius instinctively stepped in front of Regulus, realising all at once that no one else here knew his brother had defected…or that he was even alive. It didn’t matter that Regulus had just killed Voldemort; to everyone else, he was still a Death Eater, marked and damned in their eyes.
Moody’s remaining eye locked onto him, sharp and unyielding, narrowing with every second. Sirius felt the heat of scrutiny press into him, his muscles coiling instinctively. When James stepped in beside him, subtly shifting to block Regulus further from view, the three of them stood together in a tense, brittle triangle.
After a long, silent pause that made Sirius’ chest thump in his ears, Moody grunted. “You’ll want to clear out, young man.” His intense gaze didn’t leave Regulus. “Inbound Aurors’ll have questions you don’t have time to answer.” Sirius could see the truth behind the words, questions, suspicions, consequences all waiting for Regulus. It made his stomach twist.
Moody’s scarred face turned to Sirius, voice grating like gravel over steel. “Black. Start with the wounded. Albus is priority. Move!”
James exhaled, the tension leaking from his shoulders, the taut energy of the battlefield finally ebbing. But before Sirius could even process relief, Lily’s voice cut through the lingering chaos, soft but urgent, carrying a fear that shoved through the fog of his exhaustion.
“Where’s Remus?”
It was as if someone had doused him in ice water. Every muscle tensed, every thought sharpened. Sirius’ stomach dropped, and the battlefield, the fire, the smoke, the shattered ground, fell away, dissolving into nothing. All that remained was a single, unbearable image: Remus, darting into the forest, two Death Eaters on his heels, his desperate stride pulling them away.
Sirius’ chest tightened, lungs constricting as adrenaline screamed through him. The taste of blood and sweat in his mouth, the ache in his bruised ribs, the splintered wand in his hand, they all faded into insignificance. There was only Remus. Only the thought of losing him again, of never touching him, hearing him, seeing him alive…
“Remus!” The name tore itself from his throat. Without another thought, he pivoted, and then James’ presence was beside him, equally fierce, equally desperate. Together, they surged forward, boots thudding against scorched earth, hearts hammering in brutal synchrony, hunting the thread that tethered him to the one person who mattered more than the war itself.
Leaves and charred debris whipped past them, snapping underfoot, the smell of smoke fading the further they went away from the clearing. From the corners of his vision, Sirius caught movement, and there was Lily, weaving between fallen branches, her eyes scanning every shadow for the flash of danger. A second later, Regulus fell in beside her, just a step behind, the crunch of twigs and soft scrape of mud marking his path.
The forest seemed to tighten around them, every snapped branch, every startled bird adding urgency. Yet in that chaos, there was a rhythm, as if the four of them were drawn along, a single purpose guiding every step, every movement. Sirius could feel it in the grip of James’ shoulder as they ran, the brush of Lily’s arm as she passed, Regulus’ quiet presence steady just behind him. Fear burned hot in his chest, but with them there, he could push the panic down and focus on his goal.
“Remus!” Sirius’ voice cracked through the trees, ragged with panic, each syllable torn from his chest. His lungs burned with every desperate inhale, and his hands clutched at empty air, fingers twitching as if he could snatch Remus out of the forest by sheer force.
A hand clapped over his mouth, yanking him back. James’ eyes wide and urgent, his breath hot against Sirius’ ear. “Death Eaters,” he hissed. Sirius shoved him away wildly, heart hammering, sweat stinging his eyes, and pivoted again, scanning, straining, searching for any flicker of movement that might be Remus.
“Can you feel him?” James demanded tightly, eyes scanning alongside Sirius’. He shuffled, impatient, restless, stepping from foot to foot, like he was prepared to race off at any moment. “He can’t have gotten far!” His hands flexed at his sides in frustration and fear, the desperation in his gaze mirrored Sirius’ own.
Sirius took a breath and reached inwards, trying to sense the tether binding him to Remus. He pushed past the ringing in his ears, past the thrum of adrenaline, and focused inward, straining every nerve. Nothing. No tug. No warmth. Just an empty gap where his heart should have felt that subtle pull of connection. Cold panic surged. His eyes stung.
“No…” His voice was tight in his throat. A shiver raced down his spine, and his fingers twitched, gripping tree bark for balance. His eyes darted left and right, flicking over every shadow, every sign of movement, heart hammering in anticipation and terror. “Y–you go that way, James. I’ll check down there.” Each word was a command he barely had the strength to form, but he couldn’t stand still any longer. He had to move.
Regulus’ hand brushed against his arm as he passed, pulling him back from his fear for the barest fraction of a second. “We’ll split up and circle,” Regulus said, controlled and steady. His grip lingered on Sirius’ forearm.
“We need to be careful,” Lily reminded him softly, though her body was all but vibrating with her own adrenaline. “There could still be Death Eaters around.”
Sirius bit down hard on his cheek, tasting blood, and nodding. “Right.” He exhaled slowly, letting the dread harden into focus. “Reg, with me. Lily, James—you go down the other side, towards the creek.” His eyes fixed on the path ahead.
The group began peeling off, splitting paths carefully but quickly. James and Lily moved down towards the creek where he and James had cooled off during the summer months, stepping over gnarled roots, keeping low, eyes alert for movement. Sirius spared them one last glance, heart clenching, before grabbing Regulus’ arm and tugging him forward, pressing further into the denser part of the forest.
Sirius’ chest tightened with panic, each step a struggle against the urge to scream Remus’ name, desperation clawing at him as he forced himself to stay silent, wary of alerting any lurking Death Eaters. He was thankful beyond words that the Potters had spent those summers in Godric’s Hollow, that he and James had explored every hidden nook and winding trail around the cottage. That familiarity, those stolen months of warmth and mischief, now gave him a lifeline as he raced through the trees.
A faint, overgrown trail appeared through the underbrush, twisting and half-hidden by brambles and weeds. Sirius’ pulse skipped a beat; he recognised it instantly. He and James had hidden their dungbombs in the shed at the end of this path. Remus had waited outside then, grumbling about spiderwebs in his hair.
He pointed. “Keep going down that path,” he said to Regulus sharply, eyes locked ahead. “You’ll come to an old broom shed. Moony knew about it, he could be hiding out there.”
Regulus hesitated, brows knitting, mouth opening to argue. “Sirius–”
But Sirius didn’t let him finish. Every fiber of him screamed forward. He lunged “Go!” he barked over his shoulder. “We don’t have time!”
He heard Regulus curse under his breath, but he couldn’t stop, couldn’t pause, not even for a fraction of a second, not even if he wanted to, his panic pushed him forwards. His emotions surged unchecked, fear, desperation, guilt, love, pummeling him from the inside, making him hurt in ways he didn’t have words for.
He finally slammed to a halt, pressing his back against the rough bark of a tree. He let his forehead drop, eyes squeezed shut, breathing hard. Slowly, he forced himself to stillness, willing his shaking limbs to obey, forcing his mind to stretch outward along the thread. He reached again, desperately now, pushing past the frantic surge of his emotion to try and touch that familiar flicker of magic.
Nothing
Nothing
There
He could have sobbed. It was faint. But it was there. He turned his head, trusting instinct, and dropped to four legs. Padfoot surged forward, nose low, paws hammering the earth. The forest tore past him: gouges in the dirt, snapped branches, a scorched patch of bark. Signs of a fight, violent and close. The air stank of iron and ash.
Blood
The scent filled him with a cold dread.
He was running before he knew it, shifting back mid-stride, lungs tearing, voice cracking the stillness.
“Remus!”
A cough, small and weak, almost lost beneath the pounding in his ears. He skidded to a halt, spun toward the sound…and there he was.
Propped against a fallen tree, head slumped, gold eyes closed. Blood soaked his shredded shirt. A dagger, cruel and gleaming wet, still protruded from his gut.
Sirius froze. Time shrank to that single moment, everything around him fizzled, like he wasn’t there at all. He was eleven again, on the Hogwarts Express, looking at a boy with wary eyes and a shy, crooked smile that had undone him without a word.
“No.” His voice broke. He stumbled forward until his knees crashed to the dirt, grabbing Remus’ face with shaking hands. “No, no, no, no, no. Re? Remus?” His skin was ice. His lips pale. His chest jerked, pulse fluttering, so faint Sirius had to press his fingers hard against his throat to feel it. It was barely there. Terror clawed higher. “Fuck…REG, JAMES HELP!”
The dagger gleamed red at the corner of his vision. Blood bubbled obscenely around it with every shallow rise of Remus’ chest. Sirius’ hands shook so badly he could barely breathe. He tore his gaze away, searching frantically for Remus’ wand, only to find shards of broken wood scattered uselessly in the leaves.
“No, no, no–fuck, no.” His breath came too fast, chest heaving like he was drowning.
Hoofed footsteps thundered through the brush behind him. Sirius barely noticed them at first, his focus stuck on the bloodied, slumped figure before him. A rustle, a blur of motion, and Prongs was there, landing just ahead of the others, lighter and faster than he ever could have been on two legs. There was a shift in the air, and James replaced Prongs, eyes wide with barely contained panic.
“Oh fuck…” James’ voice cracked, strangled with horror.
Sirius whipped around, eyes wild. “Give me your wand.”
James didn’t move. He stood frozen, pale as chalk, the breath knocked out of him. His mouth opened, closed again. His eyes were glassy, reflecting the moonlight and the blood pooling darkly beneath Remus.
“James!” Sirius’ voice tore through the night, shaking. “Give me your wand!”
“Sirius…is he–”
“I can fix him!” Sirius snapped, lunging forward and wrenching the wand from James’ limp hand. “I can.”
“All that blood…” James’ voice broke, the words stumbling out in shuddering fragments. “Moony. Oh Merlin. Moony–”
“Shut up!” Sirius spat, though it came out a broken sob. His throat burned. He pressed one tentative hand to Remus’ clammy cheek, thumb brushing cold skin. “Stay with me. Please. Stay.” His other hand lifted James' wand and he began to cast.
The spells came out in ragged gasps, spilling through his cracked lips. “I can fix him. I can fix him.” The words came over and over, turning from promise to plea to delusion. He eased the dagger free with a flick of magic, then sealed the wound as best he could, stemming the fresh gush of blood with another spell.
Regulus burst into the clearing, skidding to his knees. He pressed his hands down over Sirius’ frantic ones, whispering and channeling his own magic, guiding the flow of energy. For a moment Sirius felt the relief of another wand bolstering his…
Regulus froze. His face went grey. His fingers hovered an inch above Remus’ chest
“What?” James demanded, panicked. “What is it?”
Before anyone could answer, Lily crashed through the brush, breath catching on a half-formed shout. She stumbled into the clearing…and stopped dead.
Her eyes landed on Remus, on the blood, on Sirius’ shaking hands, on the stillness of her friend. And she froze. Her lips parted, but nothing came, just a sharp inhale, like she’d been slapped.
“No…no, that’s not–” The words cracked apart. She took two shaky steps forward. When she dropped to her knees, it wasn’t graceful; she fell, hands digging into the dirt. The cry that tore out of her then was jagged, ripped straight from somewhere deep and old. It wasn’t just grief. It was disbelief giving way to terror.
Regulus’ throat worked, his face pale beneath the grime and blood. Lily’s cry split the air, the sound enough to make Regulus’ breath catch, and for a moment, he looked stricken, like the sound had reached into some buried part of him and twisted. His jaw clenched, eyes darting from Lily to Remus, then to Sirius, and when he finally spoke, the words came dragging out of him like they hurt.
“He’s lost too much blood,” he said softly, eyes wide.
James staggered forward, his face twisting, hazel eyes lined silver. “No…no, you fix him,” he choked out, shaking his head violently, his messy hair plastered to his sweat-slick forehead. “You’re clever enough, you know enough–” His voice broke on the last word. His hands were held out in the air like he didn’t know what to do with them, where to reach, who to grab, for something to stop this.
He dropped to his knees beside Sirius. “You can’t just say that, Reg–he’s still breathing, look, he’s right there–” He reached for Remus, grabbing his hand and froze at the coldness he found there. His expression crumpled and a mournful sound punched out of him.
“Without blood-replenishing draughts–” Regulus began, his voice shaky, his eyes flickering to Sirius, and he looked like he wanted to tear his own skin off for saying it. “There’s too much damage for spells alone–”
But Sirius cut him off before he could finish, panic roaring. “Don’t.”
The word tore itself from his throat. “Don’t you say it.” His muscles locked like he could hold himself together if he just refused to hear it. He pressed harder against Remus’ chest, trying to summon warmth back into cold skin. “He’s not gone,” he rasped, pushing more of his magic though James’ wand. “He’s not gone.”
Everything you’ll need for an on-the-go hospital wing
Her voice hit him like a jolt of cold lightning across his mind.
Don’t argue, Black. Strap it on and don’t lose it.
Sirius’ eyes snapped toward the direction of the cottage. His chest hitched, adrenaline surging. It should still be there, tucked out of sight. He whirled to Regulus.
“Reg! My bag–Pomfrey gave us a supply for emergencies! It’s back by the fence…There’ll be a draught–”
Before he could finish, Regulus’ eyes met his with a flash of something like determination, and with a tense nod, he pivoted and disappeared with a loud crack, leaving Sirius’ heart hammering as he returned to Remus, gripping James’ wand and forcing himself to focus.
“Lily, go with him,” James ordered. “If he gets stopped by the Aurors, he’ll get arrested.”
Her head snapped towards him, eyes wide and brimming with tears. “But I–”
“Go, Lils.” James caught her wrist, gripping just long enough for her to feel the plea beneath the command. His thumb brushed over her wrist gently. “Please.”
For a breath, she stood still, chest rising and falling too fast. Then she bit her lip, blinked away the tears burning her eyes, and nodded. She squeezed his hand once and then she turned on her heel.
The air cracked with her Disapparition, leaving James’ hand still outstretched and shaking.
Sirius pressed on, teeth clenched. Flesh knitted under his frantic magic, organs sealed, every inch of him screaming that it wasn’t enough. He wanted to do more, to do something, to drag Remus back from the edge.
James’ wand felt impossibly heavy in his hand, trembling as if it shared his desperation. He wracked his memory, muttering spells under his breath, running through every charm, every trick he’d ever learned—but nothing, nothing could force life back into him. There wasn’t anything more he could do but wait, wait for Reg and Lily to come back with the draught that might save him. He let the wand fall from his fingers, pressing his ear to Remus’ chest, straining for the faintest rhythm.
Each shallow breath came slower than the last. The rise and fall of Remus’ chest against his cheek was barely there now, a small flutter that seemed to shrink by the second. Sirius pulled back, his fingers dug into the skin at Remus' throat, desperately praying to whoever would listen to put more strength into every weakening pulse. A faint shiver ran along the thread, a fragile little thing that he clung to with everything he had left in him.
“Stay.” He bent forward, foreheads pressed together. “Stay, my love.” Tears streaked through the grime of the battlefield, dripping onto Remus’ cold skin. “Fight, Moony. Hold on. J-just hold on. Come back to me. Please.” He pressed a soft kiss to his eyelids, murmuring each word as if saying them aloud could hold him to this life. “Come on, baby. Please.” His fingers tangled in Remus’ hair, gripping, clinging, refusing to let go; his other hand pressed against Remus’ chest, feeling for the faint heartbeat.
Beat
Beat
…
Beat
…
…
The pulse beneath his fingers stilled.
Sirius froze.
“No.” The word tore from him, broken and raw. “Don't you do this to me.”
His breath hitched on a sob as he dragged Remus' body into his arms, clutching him tight against his chest. His lungs burned, his heart stuttered, everything around him fell away until there was nothing left, nothing but the unbearable stillness of the man he loved.
James stumbled forward, a strangled noise falling from him as he dropped to his knees beside them. One shaking hand reached out, hovering uselessly over Remus’ shoulder before curling into a fist against the dirt. His face was pale, disbelieving, like watching the world tilt off its axis.
“Sirius…” It wasn’t a question. It was the sound of something breaking.
Sirius pressed Remus closer, desperate to feel warmth that wasn’t there. His hands trembled violently, fingertips ghosting over cold skin, over the sharp lines of Remus' face as if touch could coax him back from whatever path he was walking down.
Tears blurred his vision, spilled unchecked down his cheeks. His lips quivered as he pressed them to Remus' forehead, breathing him in, smoke, blood, and that faint, familiar scent that was him.
“I can’t–please, no,” he whispered, the words fracturing. “Don’t leave me, Moony. I can’t do this without you.”
Beside him, James made a broken noise but it barely reached him. His entire universe had collapsed into the space between Remus’ last breath and the next that wouldn’t come.
He rocked him gently, helplessly, each breath a sob that ripped its way out of his chest. “Please…please come back. I’m sorry. I’m so sorry…”
His whole body shook with the force of it. The grief was too large, too much to contain, tearing through him. He clung to Remus with everything he had left, as if sheer will could defy death, if he just held on tightly enough, maybe something would listen.
James crawled forward, hands trembling as they reached for Sirius’ arm. But Sirius flinched, almost violently, snapping away from him, his body curling tighter around Remus. His chest pressed to the still form, shielding him from the world, from anyone, from reality itself.
James’ presence was a frantic mirror beside him, his fists pounding the dirt, sobs mingling with Sirius’, echoing through the silent trees.
“We aren’t done yet,” Sirius whispered into Remus’ hair, his voice breaking as he sobbed into his own shoulder. “Don’t leave me, love…”
He pressed closer, murmuring apologies, begging, pleading, each word tumbling from him in unbearable despair. Every heartbeat, every shudder of his body screamed the same thing: come back to me, don’t leave me here alone.
A branch cracked.
Sirius’ head snapped toward the sound, something primal flaring like fire through his veins. His whole body shifted without thought, bracing, his shoulders curling protectively over Remus.
Through the haze of anger and grief, he saw a figure stumble into the clearing, bare feet bleeding against the rough earth, dark hair plastered to a face streaked with dirt and blood.
Her eyes, that familiar gold, fell to where Remus lay in his arms. A sound tore from her throat, low and keening, a broken, trembling canine like whine that seemed to reverberate through the trees.
She staggered forward, her torn shirt shifting with the movement, slipping just enough to expose an old scar carved deep into her side, unmistakable for anything but what it was.
Sirius’ stomach dropped. James was already on his feet, wand raised, falling into a defensive stance as if on muscle memory alone. “Stay back!” He demanded tightly.
Her golden eyes snapped upward, landing on James and the wand in his hand. The grief in her gaze fractured, replaced by wary defensiveness. Her body stiffened, for a moment a flicker of fear passed through her eyes, though it was quickly replaced by a hardened conviction as she drew herself up, rolling her shoulders back and lifting her chin, proudly displaying the scar etched into her side, as if to say, Yes. And?
They held each other’s gazes and the world seemed to dim around them. Every sound seemed muffled, as if the clearing itself were leaning in to listen. Sirius felt the blood in his ears, loud and stupid.
James’ jaw worked; a bead of sweat dripped down his temple, his shoulder rising and falling, and Sirius knew he was counting his breaths, waiting for the moment he’d decided was right to act. The space between them was a charged wire. Faces lit by the scant moonlight through the treetops.
Then she shifted her weight and took another step. It was a small, defiant thing, but in that step there was a decision made loud enough to break their stalemate: she would not be turned away.
“I said stay the fuck back,” James shouted. Sirius felt the devastation in his friend’s voice, each word carrying the unbearable truth he wasn’t ready to accept. He pressed his face into the curve of Remus’ neck, fingertips digging into cold skin, begging to push that reality away.
“If you want him to live, you will get out of my way,” the woman growled urgently, Sirius heard her take another step towards them.
“What–” James started, but the woman cut him off.
“Either you let me help him, or he’s going to die.”
“He’s already dead,” James said, the sentence falling flat and final, a verdict hammered into the quiet. Sirius’ stomach dropped. Heat flared along his spine, chest tightening as if he could crush himself around Remus to keep the truth at bay. His jaw clenched, teeth biting into his own lip, and he let out a low, strangled sound, refusing to meet James’ eyes, desperate to stay in the illusion that it wasn’t true.
The woman’s eyes narrowed, gold flaring in the dim light. “Not yet he isn’t,” she snapped, taking another step forward, feet scraping softly against the earth. The movement carried urgency, exhaustion, and a fierce determination all at once, and it made Sirius flinch, tightening his grip on Remus.
He looked at James now. His friend had faltered, wand trembling slightly in his hand, chest rising and falling as if he were holding back both anger and disbelief. His brows furrowed, confusion etched into every line of his face.
Sirius shifted, pressing himself lower over Remus, trying to shield him from the woman’s approach. Panic coiled in his chest. He didn’t want her near, didn’t trust anyone here with the lifeless weight in his arms.
“Too many good people have died because of this war…” she spoke softly now “Don’t let there be another one.”
Sirius glared at her, teeth almost barring as she took another step closer. For a moment, he thought he had shifted into Padfoot, the urge to snarl, to protect, to strike clawed its way up through him. But his hands were human, shaking yet firm around Remus’ shoulders.
The woman took another cautious step. “You’ve done everything you can with your magic,” she murmured calmly, “now let me try with mine.” Her words carried a quiet certainty, as if she were offering him a rope in the storm, a promise that she would do everything she could to help.
She passed James, who stood still as stone, wand slipping from his fingers, eyes wide and hopeless. For a moment, it seemed as though he might intervene, but he remained rooted, disbelief holding him firm in place.
Sirius pressed himself tighter over Remus, panic flaring. “Get away from him!” he snarled, full of fear and anger, each word trembling with the need to protect.
Her eyes softened, not with pity, but something else. Understanding. Sirius felt it more than saw it: a subtle easing in her stance, the defensiveness that had sharpened her now bending into empathy. She was watching the way his hands wouldn’t stop shaking, the way he had placed his body around Remus almost entirely shielding him from her view.
The realisation unsettled him. Left him feeling even more exposed then he had before. Like he had an audience to the death of his happiness. It was unbearable to be stripped down to grief and love and ruin. He wanted to shove them all away, to take Remus and vanish into the dark where no one could witness him breaking apart. He could feel his composure slipping through his fingers like sand, and the harder he tried to hold on, the faster it fell.
She slowed her approach, stopped short of touching, and crouched to his level, her hands outstretched. He could see the tremor in her fingers but her tone was calm and steady. “I’m not here to take him from you,” she said softly. “I just want to help.”
Sirius’ breathing fractured. His arms locked tight around Remus’ body as if someone might try to wrench him away. It was too bright, too loud, the rustle of the trees, the thud of his own heartbeat, even the soft crunch under the weight of her steps felt unbearable. He shook his head. Too much.
She leaned forward, and he couldn't stop the flinch. The edges of his vision blurred, his thoughts collapsing. His voice had abandoned him, leaving only a broken sound from somewhere deep in his chest, a low, guttural thing where warning and devastation collided.
James dropped back to his knees beside him, the motion fast and graceless. He reached out, hand trembling as it hovered near Sirius’ arm, his other hand bracing against the dirt as though it were the only thing keeping him upright. His confidence was gone; all that remained was a friend, desperate, terrified, and shaking.
“Sirius,” James’ voice cracked.“You have to let her try…Remus is–” he stopped, throat closing on the words. His eyes squeezed shut, lashes wet, and when he spoke again it was a quiet whisper. “Let her try.”
For a heartbeat, Sirius didn’t move. The words didn’t even seem to reach him at first, just sound, muffled and distant, like they were coming from underwater. But when Sirius' eyes found James’, his words cut through the fog of his panic.
James looked equally as hurt, equally as broken. Sirius wanted to look away, but his eyes caught on the tremor of James’ hand, the agony in it. He’d seen that kind of pain in his friend too many times since this war began. When friends were buried, when their lives grew smaller and crueler. But this…this was the same look James had worn after his parents died. That empty, stunned grief that never really healed.
His throat clenched. The fight in him faltered. He looked down at Remus, at the stillness that shouldn’t belong to him, at the smear of blood drying against his jaw.
Rain whispered against the windowpanes. Outside was stormy chaos, but inside it was all warmth and breath and the steady rhythm of Remus’ heart beneath his cheek.
“Pads,” Remus murmured quietly into the dark
“Yeah?” Sirius whispered back, eyes closed, counting the beats beneath his ear.
“I love you too.”
Four words so small, but they’d opened something in him, something he hadn’t realised was starving for. He could still remember the way Remus’ chest rose when he said it, the faint shakiness of the breath that came after, like he was afraid. Sirius hadn’t answered with words, he’d only shifted closer, fingers brushing Remus’ ribs, letting his heartbeat say it for him.
Now, that same chest was still. He couldn’t lose that heartbeat. Couldn’t lose his happiness.
His breath hitched; a small broken sound escaped before he could stop it. His fingers loosened their grip, enough for James to see it, the surrender that wasn’t really surrender at all, just love folding in on itself under the promise of hope.
He looked down at Remus again, eyes burning, and pressed a soft kiss to his temple. When he lowered him to the ground, it was gentle, as if the earth might bruise him.
The woman moved the moment his hands slipped away. She dropped to her knees beside them, palms hovering over Remus’ chest. Her fingers trembled as if trying to channel a heartbeat she couldn’t hear. She drew in a deep, shuddering breath. Her eyes fell shut, and a shiver passed through them. Heat rippled outward from her touch, a crackle of energy in the air that made the hairs on his arms stand on end, a static that creeped across his skin and lodged in his teeth, the wild magic vibrating deep in his bones.
“What are you going to do?” Sirius asked tightly.
Her brow furrowed, though her voice stayed steady. “Saving him,” she said simply. Her hand pressed firmer against Remus’ chest, the shake in her fingers betraying the strain beneath her calm. “Using Luna magic.”
“But that’s dark mag–” James started, leaning forward.
“Luna magic isn’t dark just because dark creatures wield it.” Her fingers splayed over his ribs, thumbs tracing gentle patterns. Every movement was tight, her body tense, shoulders locked, forearms trembling under the effort of channelling the magic. “It’s nature’s magic. It protects us.”
A flare of silver light burst from her palms, soft but vivid, spreading across his chest like moonlight pooling on water, curling around his ribs and flickering along his throat. The air around them vibrated with it, a low shuddering that seemed to buzz inside his skull. Heat pooled in the space between them, a gentle warmth that mingled with energy, a faint electric tang that made his scalp tingle. Sirius could almost feel the pull of the magic, like water tugging at your hair.
She gasped softly, drawing a shuddering breath through clenched teeth. Sweat dampened her hairline, her arms shaking under the strain of whatever she was doing. Every muscle in her body trembled. Sirius watched as she nearly buckled under the effort, but she forced herself to stay upright, to hold the light, her hands refusing to waver.
“Sometimes,” she whispered weakly, “we can get separated from our packs.” She furrowed her brow, eyes squeezed tight in concentration, every exhale catching with effort. “If we’re badly injured…too weak to heal ourselves…” She winced, teeth clenched. “One of us can hold the other’s life…until their magic can catch up–” her eyes flicked off to the left of them “–or until help comes.”
Regulus and Lily burst through the trees, a flash of light and movement cutting through the clearing. Reg didn’t even glance up; his focus locked immediately on the form on the ground. He was already digging through the bag as he dropped to his knees, vials clinking against each other as he pulled them free.
James scrambled to his feet, moving fast to give him room. He turned and collided with Lily, catching her as she stumbled forward. Sirius barely heard their gasped exchange, frantic whispers, a sound like a sob, but his mind filtered all of it into static. The only thing sharp in his awareness was the sight of his brother.
Regulus didn’t stop to ask questions. He didn’t even quirk a brow at the sight of the strange woman bent over Remus, her hands blazing with soft silver light. He simply took in the scene, his eyes assessing what was in front of him, before moving. Whatever he thought, whatever disbelief flickered through him at the magic crackling in the air, he buried it as his hands reached for Remus.
He tilted Remus’ head back with a gentleness that didn’t match the urgency burning Sirius alive, fingers slipping under his jaw, thumb brushing his throat. One by one, he uncorked the vials and poured their contents past Remus’ slack lips. Each time he coaxed the potion down, he rubbed slow circles against Remus’ throat, forcing a swallow that didn’t come easily. Sirius watched the faint bob of his Adam’s apple and held his breath through each attempt.
Behind him, he caught a sound, a muffled cry, his head turned just enough to see James clutching Lily to his chest. Her shoulders shook, James’ face was buried in her hair. Sirius didn’t need to hear the words to know what had already been said between them. He turned back quickly, unable to bear it, focusing instead on Remus’ face.
He studied every twitch, every flicker of movement that might have been a breath, a tremor, a heartbeat. The light from the woman’s hands had dulled now, but not faded completely, it shimmered faintly under his skin, tracing his veins. Sirius’ eyes stayed locked there, desperate and unblinking.
Regulus worked quietly, lips pressed thin, shoulders tense. He didn’t look up once, not at Sirius, not at James, not even when the woman beside him gasped sharply, her magic faltering for a second before she pushed through it again. He simply reached for another vial. He wasn’t asking who she was or what she was doing. He didn’t need to. He saw his brother kneeling in the dirt, watching love slip away, and that was enough to tell him everything he needed to know.
“We’re pack animals,” the woman whispered suddenly, her voice fainter than before. “If one falls, the others will carry.” Her arms shook violently, the silver light guttering like a dying flame. Sweat slicked her skin, soaking through the torn front of her shirt. “But it takes a lot–” Her broke off with a strangled gasp, eyes rolling back as she crumpled sideways.
James caught her before she hit the ground, his face ashen as he lowered her to the dirt. The glow over Remus’ chest faltered, first a tremor, then a dimming, until only a thin pulse of light remained, faint but alive. A heartbeat refusing surrender.
No one moved. No one even seemed to breathe. The space around them felt impossibly still, like the world had been wound down to a pause. Even the air seemed thickened with expectation, making each inhalation a conscious effort.
Somewhere, a twig cracked. A leaf shifted against another, the water flowed against the pebbles in the creekbeds. Every noise struck like thunder in the silence.
Sirius leaned closer, throat bone-dry, his fingers hovering just above Remus’ hair. He couldn’t make himself blink. Couldn’t make himself look away. His eyes watching the dying shimmer of light beneath his ribs.
Beside him, James knelt with the girl limp in his arms, his own breathing shallow and uneven. Regulus crouched at Remus’ head, wand shaking, the soft light of his lumos spell breathing across the four of them. Lily had one hand braced on James’ shoulder, the other clutched around her wand. Her lips moved soundlessly in a whispered prayer. The light from her wand joined Regulus’.
The darkness pressed closer. The silver flicker over Remus’ chest shuddered once, twice, then spluttered out, devoured by the dark as though the night itself had taken a breath and consumed him.
Sirius’ stilled, his breath freezing in his lungs. His hand shook as he brushed a damp curl from Remus’ forehead, fingers tracing the line of his temple with aching care.
“Remus?” He croaked, too small against the dark.
Suffocation. That was what it felt like. Space closing in, air thinning to nothing. Regulus’ and Lily’s light was steady and bright, but it didn’t matter. Sirius couldn’t breathe. Not until Remus did.
His voice was a broken plea. “Remus?”
Silence answered him.
It stretched unnaturally, like it had forgotten that it was supposed to keep moving forward. The air felt wrong, stripped bare of magic and warmth, like the woman had pumped the essence of life from the earth into Remus’ still body.
“Did it work?” James asked, voice cracking halfway through the words. He shifted the girl in his arms, shaking her gently at first, then harder when she didn’t respond. “Hey–wake up. Please.” His movements lost their rhythm; his grip slipped, caught again. One hand brushed her hair from her face. “Come on,” he whispered. She gave a faint groan, her head lolling uselessly to the side. “Please…please…”
She didn’t stir.
A sob tore from Lily. “No…” The word shattered on her tongue as she sank to her knees. Her arms wrapped around James, clinging, her cries muffled against his shoulder.
Regulus bowed his head, the soft light from his spell cutting sharp lines across his face, he muttered something under his breath, maybe a curse, but Sirius didn’t hear it.
He was watching Remus. Still. Too still. His lips were pale, parted slightly, the residue of one of the potions clinging to the corner of his mouth. Damp curls plastered to his forehead.
“Re?” The name came out more breath than word, a whisper of desperation, carrying every fragment of disbelief, every shard of hope he didn’t dare speak aloud.
Nothing.
Sirius could feel the burn behind his eyes, the roar in his ears. He lowered his forehead to Remus’, letting the damp curls brush against his cheek, whispering again and again, his name, broken syllables, promises, all tangled into a ragged, desperate stream of sound. His lips pressed to the side of Remus’ temple as each whisper sharpened, shifting from pleading to command.
He pressed closer, letting the heat of his body press against Remus’, fingertips tracing the faint outlines of his jaw and collarbone. There was nothing else around him. No forest, no wind, no voices, just Remus, just the fragile pulse he hunted for beneath pale skin, and the desperate hope that one more whisper, one more touch, one more second of closeness might be enough to bring him back.
Silence.
Silence.
Silence.
A violent, shuddering gasp ripped through the silence, like a drowning man clawing for air. Remus’ chest jerked, his back arching, and the silver light flared so brilliantly that Sirius had to reel back, squinting against its sudden intensity, before it softened into the gentle glow of moonlight drifting through the trees.
Everything was still, and in that stillness, he felt it. That familiar tug along the invisible tether he had tied between them. It started as the faintest spark, a flicker at the edge of his awareness, then surged, flooding through him. The bond sang, pulsing through his chest and into his very bones. It was warmth and comfort all at once, the unmistakable touch of Remus’ magic against his own, answering him.
Sirius’ eyes dropped, drawn down by that impossible, magnetic pull that lived between them. And there they were, those eyes. Soft, molten gold catching the silver light, wide and disoriented, blinking once, twice, before steadying and finding him.
A shaking laugh broke from Sirius and he caught Remus’ face in both hands, thumbs trembling against the familiar lines, terrified to blink in case the world stole this moment back.
“Moony,” he breathed, and this time it wasn’t a broken plea, it was soft and bright and full of something like hope, threaded with relief so fierce it hurt.
Remus’ lips parted, soundless at first, then a faint, rasping exhale that ghosted against Sirius’ wrist. It was enough. It was everything. Sirius pressed their foreheads together, laughter turning to tears as the tether between them thrummed, strong and steady.