"Sirius?" Peter squeaked in surprise. He bit his lip and shook his head, "I'm sorry, Sirius, if this is to get me to come to the camp, I still ca--"

"I'm at St. Mungo's."

Peter stopped mid-sentence as Sirius cut him off. He sat up right, pulling the mirror from the drawer of his nightstand, a rush of urgency going through him. "What?"

Sirius's lower jaw quaked, "Pete, it was awful. It was bleedin' awful. Someone's gotta go find Moony and - and help him -- I -- I left, I had to leave, I couldn't stay, and --" His voice shook. "Please."

"I don't know how to get out there by myself," Peter panicked, "I can't apparate." But even as he said it, he started putting on his trainers, putting the mirror beside him on the bed, and reaching for his divination stones from under his pillow.

"Floo over to the Potters," Sirius said, "Mr. P will know how to get in touch with Dumbledore and Dumbledore knows where Mr. Scamander is and -- surely one of them can help him." Sirius's voice shook, "Oh Wormtail." 

Peter nodded, "Right. Right. I'll go. Right away, of course." He finished knotting his shoelaces and jumped up, shoving the velvet bag of stones into his pocket. "How about you, Padfoot? Are you alright?" His brow furrowed with concern.

"I'll be alright," Sirius said, though his voice didn't sound quite as confident as Peter would have liked.

"After I tell the Potters, I'll come to Mungo's," Peter promised. "So you aren't alone."

"Thanks, Pete," Sirius said as Peter slid the mirror into his jumper pocket.

Sirius lowered his half of the mirror, his arm burning in pain from holding it up. He looked down at his chest. It was raw, as red as uncooked steak, and burned with pain as it bubbled and oozed. His wand lay at his side - the leather jacket he'd been wearing, in which the mirror had been stowed, hung over the end of the bed he laid in. On the night stand stood a skin-colored bottle that steamed and gave out low hisses now and then, similar to the sound of the bubbling on his chest. He'd awakened this way mere moments ago.

Flashes of memories bounced off the inside of his mind...

They'd been swimming, the moon turning the water's surface silver. Sirius was barking and running, and Remus, too, and they'd been swimming and playing around. Remus was as himself as the transformation allowed, and they were having fun, it was like the old times, and Sirius had been thinking just how good this moon was going - remembering the first time Remus had been fully Remus. They were happy and together and safe. Sirius had been barking happily, like laughter as they played. Looking back, he realized suddenly that it was probably the barking that had drawn the attention to them - probably the barking, too, that had distracted Sirius enough to miss the sounds and smells of the approaching enemies.

Two wolves had emerged from the trees (just the two at first) - a jet black wolf, and a scrappy-looking tan one. Sirius had caught the scent of them at last and spun about in the ankle deep water to see them just as the hair on Remus's wolf's hackles had risen up, the wolfish instincts suddenly taking over, Remus falling behind the werewolf. Sirius's own hair had stood on end, too.

And suddenly from the tree line on their left had emerged a whole load of wolves - at least five more - and the were running at the water, and Remus was running at them, and the two that had first appeared were running into the fray, too, and there was a good deal of gnashing teeth and snapping jaws, of cries of outrage and pain, whimpers and howling. The wolves were much larger and more powerful than Sirius's dog form and he knew there was no way to help Remus except to get the hell away from the pack before one of them killed him. He formed the fastest plan he could - get away from them, transform while they were distracted, and stupefy the lot of them.

But then one of the wolves spotted him as he ran away from the ravenous fight on the shore, chasing him down the bank. Still in his dog form, scared to transform with the wolf on his heels, remembering what Dumbledore had once told them about wolf bites and how it effected his DNA as a dog versus as a human. He ducked and dodged brush and boulders, slid under low lying branches and leaped over logs. The wolf, much larger, crashed through all of it and remained on Sirius's heels. The sound of the other wolves fighting was fading behind them for how far they had gone, and Sirius was terrified. Not only could he himself be killed, but Remus was back there, Remus was fighting a whole pack of wolves alone...

And then Sirius misjudged a step and he tumbled over the side of the bank and down a small slope, hitting the sand and rolling, twisting his back funny, and landing on his side, a pain going up his front leg. 

The wolf had leaped upon him, stood over him with snarling fangs and hot breath that smelled of blood and rancid meat and Sirius had the fleeting thought that this would be the end of him. This is how I'm going to die. The wolf's teeth sank into his shoulder and tore and he began to dig and rip and shred at the fur at the neck and chest of Sirius's dog form. 

And it would've been the end of Sirius Black for real if there hadn't risen through the trees a loud shrieking howl that echoed and shivered the leaves.

The wolf paused his mangling and lifted his head, looking back the way they'd come and Sirius used the moment of him being off his guard to slam the wolf in his belly with his back legs just as hard as he could, knocking the dog into the river beside them. The current caught the wolf and he was dragged away, paddling with his legs hard, trying to get back to the shore. Surely, he would, surely within seconds Sirius would've been back under attack... Blood was gushing out of Sirius's chest, the top layer of skin and fur pulled away, hanging like a bloody loose flap. He couldn't run. He had only one way to get out of there.

Sirius transformed as the wolf fought all the harder for the shore... Sirius struggled to his feet as the wolf caught his footing on the riverbed and started to pull himself from the water, bracing his back haunches... springing forward... and CRACK!

Sirius disapparated.

And there he'd found himself at St. Mungo's, and he'd fallen into the glass, unable to stay standing as the blood poured from him, and he smacked his fist on the window, hoping somebody inside had seen him, and he fell onto the cold street...

That was the last he'd remembered before waking up in St. Mungo's.

Guilt filled him. He should've done more to help Remus, he should've disapparated to where Remus was on the shore and stunned the wolves before going for Mungo's. But then again, he'd barely made it to Mungo's. It was a miracle if he didn't splinch himself as it were, he never would've been able to disapparate twice... He would've died if he'd stayed... but now Remus... gods only knew if Remus was alive, and Sirius felt hot tears flood his eyes and he started sobbing there in the hospital bed.

The door to the room opened suddenly and there was Dorcas Meadows. Sirius had never in his life been more pleased to see anyone in all the world. She ran across the room to him, her eyes wide with worry. "Sirius?" she asked, "Bloody hell it really is you." She reached his side and her face paled as she saw the raw redness of his chest, the grafted skin laying upon it, oozing and melting into him, and she grabbed onto his hand to comfort him as he cried. "Sirius, what happened?"

"I want Moony," he cried. "I want my Moony."

Dorcas ran her hand over his hair, "We'll get him here for you. Where is he? I'll send for him right now."

"The Potters," Sirius choked out the words, "I need the Potters." 

"Alright. I'll get the Potters." Dorcas nodded.

"How did you know I was here?" Sirius asked her.

"When you arrived unconscious, they checked the ownership on your wand," Dorcas explained. "You're registered as my patient so they summoned me and they sent for your -- well for your mum. She wasn't at home, but your brother - he's just outside."

"Regulus is here?" Sirius asked.

"Yes, he came as soon as they got word to him that you were here," Dorcas said.

Sirius started crying all the harder.

"Shall I send him in to keep you company while I go get the Potters?"

"I - I dunno," Sirius cried, "I dunno. I - yes. Yes send him in."

"Alright," Dorcas nodded. She looked him over. "Are you okay?"

Sirius shook his head, "I dunno that either. I - I need Moony and the Potters. Please."

"I'll go and get them." She laid his hand back down and started for the door, then paused. "Sirius, we're going to talk later, okay? And it's going to be alright, whatever happens. We'll talk through it, alright?"

Sirius replied as though she hadn't spoken at all, "I need Moony and the Potters. Please!"

Dorcas sighed, and ducked out of the door.

Sirius covered his eyes, desperately trying to block the flashes of the memory of those wolves, of the howls of pain and the flying blood and fur he'd seen... The memory of the smell of the wolf's hot breath as it leaned over him, about to devour him, filling his senses... What if Remus had had a similar experience? What if Remus had been pinned by another wolf? What if that wolf had --

"Sirius?"

He opened his eyes. Regulus Black stood in the doorway, and Kreacher the house elf loomed just behind him, peering around Regulus's hip, his ears flat to his head and wide eyes staring, a bit of an expression of disgust in his face. Regulus's face itself showed panic and a bit of sickness, too, looking at Sirius's raw chest and the claw marks on his shoulder. 

Regulus moved slowly as he came closer, as though afraid to get too close. "I - I came as soon as I heard."

Sirius stared at his brother, swallowing back his crying. "I don't know why they summoned you."

Regulus stopped moving closer, he stood a small distance from the bed, somewhere around Sirius's knees, and he murmured, "They actually were trying to summons mother, but she wasn't home."

"It's the middle of the bloody night, where was she?" Sirius asked. Regulus looked abashed, and Sirius scoffed, "Working for the Dark Lord was she?" he spat.

Regulus felt his throat lump up and he looked down at his feet. "I dunno, Sirius, alright, she just wasn't at home. But I was, and Kreacher came to fetch me, and -- and I'm here."

"Well thank fuck it isn't her that's come," Sirius said, "I'd be dead for sure. She'd bleedin' kill me as look at me."

"She wouldn't," Regulus said, shaking his head, "Sirius, mother's not really --"

"Stop defending her!" Sirius said harshly, "She's dark, Regulus, she's dark as they come. Working for Voldemort, helping him succeed in anyway at all, it's dark business. Anyone working for him in even the slightest degree is just as bad as he is."

Regulus bit his tongue. He wanted to argue, he wanted to tell Sirius there were things that he didn't understand about working for Voldemort. He tugged at the sleeve of his jumper, the dark mark there itching like a reminder of the utter control that Voldemort had... But Sirius wouldn't understand, even if Regulus tried to tell him about it. Sirius wouldn't understand how the subtle rebellion worked. Subtly was lost on Sirius - the last thing in the world that Sirius was was subtle.

Sirius stared down at his hands.

The silence hanging between the brothers was deep and intense and seemed to stretch on forever, neither knowing what to say. Sirius wanted nothing more than for the Potters to arrive, for Dumbledore or Newt Scamander to appear with Remus Lupin, whole and alive... Regulus, on the other hand, wanted nothing more than the right words to say to comfort his brother's pain, to show that they were on the same side, really...

"There once was a dog named Snuffles," Regulus suddenly said, the words coming to him.

"Stop," Sirius begged, and tears flooded his eyes again, for the words did not comfort him but reminded him of laying next to the dying Charlus Potter in those precious seconds, made his stomach turn with the memory of that, and he shook his head, "Stop. Stop, don't say another word of that bloody story."

Regulus stopped, his eyes wet. "I - I'm sorry, I just am trying to --"

"To what? To make things worse?" Sirius snapped.

Regulus stared up at him, "No, it's just --" He shook his head, "Nevermind."

"What?" Sirius barked, "What is it, Regulus, you just what?" 

"I'm just trying to help," Regulus whispered.

Sirius said, "Well that doesn't help, alright?"

"Alright," Regulus said quietly.

Sirius sighed, seeing the hurt in Regulus's eyes. "I don't mean to be a ruddy arsehole, it's just that you --"

But before Sirius could explain himself, the door of the room burst opened and Peter Pettigrew came in, followed by Dora Potter, both of whose eyes were wild with worry... And as the pair of them descended upon Sirius, Regulus backed away, turning and leaving the room quickly, before Peter or Dora Potter could say anything to him. "Come on Kreacher," Regulus commanded, and he walked swiftly down the hall to the stairwell, passing Dorcas Meadows as they went.

"Is Master Regulus finished talking to his blood-traitor brother?" Kreacher asked, "Is we going back to the Noble House of Black now?"

"Yeah, I'm finished talking to him," Regulus replied, and he grabbed Kreacher's hand, "Take me home."

"Yes master," Kreacher said, and he snapped his fingers.