Rating: PG-13
Word Count: 1733
Characters: Sirius, Remus, Madam Pomfrey, James, baby Harry

A lump of sodden black fur lay on the pebbled beach, spent and gasping. Sheer desperation had driven him through the cold waters when he might otherwise have slipped gratefully into oblivion with a bubbling sigh of relief, content in the knowledge that he died free. There was no strength left in him now. Even breathing was painful.

He lay for over an hour before the twin impetuses of the incoming tide and the setting sun forced him to legs shaking with exhaustion to find a warmer resting place. He might have dried more easily without his fur, but he lacked the strength to change. Besides, he could not risk it until he knew where he was.

Just beyond the beach stood a small copse of trees and he dragged his aching body towards it. Once in their shade, he discovered a small stream trickling back towards the sea and collapsed gratefully next to it, plunging his salt-encrusted snout into the cool water. It tasted sweet on his tongue.

Somewhat restored, he raised his head and sniffed the air. It smelled of trees, young grain, and the lingering warmth of a summer evening. There were no humans nearby. It would be safe to sleep here. He stood, stretching his still-quivering legs, finally feeling strong enough to shake much of the sea water from his fur.

He found a patch of summer grass at the foot of a tree which still caught the last rays of the setting sun, and curled up on it with a sigh of contentment. Sleep was not long in coming.

He opened his eyes as the first rays of daylight filtered through the boards on the Shrieking Shack's windows. Slowly, still aching from Remus's harsh treatment of him the previous night, he crawled out from under the bed. He padded down the stairs, not knowing what he ought to do.

Remus was lying with his back to him on the cold floorboards in a corner where not even the weak rays of dawn sunlight had penetrated. Silently, Sirius turned around and padded back up the stairs, returning a moment later dragging the dusty comforter from the bed behind him. As a dog, he was too clumsy to properly cover Remus, so he changed from the relative safety of his Animagus form, tentatively tucking the ragged coverlet around the other boy.

He could tell from Remus's breathing that he was still deeply asleep. His lips were white and there was a smear of blood on his neck and a troubled expression on his face. Helpless to know what to do, Sirius did as he always did, silently undressing and lifting the cover to offer his own warmth to the sleeping boy.

He put an arm around Remus, cradling him against his own body, and drifted off again, wondering if this would be the last time he would ever hold the other boy.

It was not long before he woke again to find Remus silently looking at him, eyes desolate, one tentative finger tracing the bruises on Sirius's arms. Sirius flinched involuntarily and Remus drew his hand away.

Closing his eyes, Sirius drew a deep breath. "I -- I'm sorry, Moony. So sorry. What I did, telling Sniv -- Severus to come here. It was stupid. It was beyond stupid." He opened his eyes. Remus was still looking at him. "I don't expect -- not right away, anyway -- but maybe some day you might forgive --?"

"No!" Remus looked horrified.

"Oh," said Sirius, voice toneless with devastation. "Right. I understand. I -- I'll just go then ...."

He sat up and began to turn away. But there was Remus's hand on his arm, preventing him. He turned back to see Remus half sitting up and trembling with the effort, eyes bright with tears.

"No, Padfoot. I didn't mean -- all I meant was that you shouldn't be the -- the one apologising. I should. After what I did to you ...." He took a deep, shaky breath. "Sirius -- Padfoot, I am so sorry."

"Moony, you don't have to apologise," Sirius said desperately. "It was my fault. And I'm sorry --"

But Remus shook his head, still looking down at the gray coverlet. "What I did to you -- I -- I was scared. I don't think that -- you know -- before Severus -- I don't think even I knew what the wolf was capable of. It scared me. I was afraid I'd -- afraid I'd hurt you." He looked up at last, eyes shining with tears. "I couldn't bear the thought of it. What I did to you last night -- I wasn't just trying to teach you a lesson; I wanted to hurt you. I was so angry -- so scared. I wanted to punish you, but I -- I also wanted to scare you away. So I wouldn't be able to hurt you anymore."

He reached out a tentative finger to brush a lock of hair out of Sirius's face. Sirius noticed that his hand was shaking, and he grabbed it and held it tight. "Moony, it's alright--" he began softly, but Remus interrupted.

"It was such an awful thing to do. I don't know what you call it, Padfoot, but I call it rape. It was unforgivable and if I'm capable of it, I should be locked up, and you should stay the hell away from me." He swallowed, looking away again. Sirius could feel his whole body trembling. "I just want you to understand. I know it was terrible, what I did. And I'm sorry," he finished lamely.

Sirius let go of Remus's hand and reached down to draw back the blanket.

"What -- what are you doing?" cried Remus in a panicked voice.

"Hush, Moony," Sirius replied softly, lying down beside him. "I'm forgiving you."

Remus held his breath, not moving as Sirius gently traced the marks on his body. The old, familiar scars first. Then the new ones, from last month's moon. And at last, the fresh marks, dark with dried blood.

"I love you, Remus," he said at last, hands coming to rest cupping the boy's face. "There is nothing you could possibly do that would hurt me enough to change that." He bent his head and kissed him softly on the mouth. When he drew back, Remus's eyes were closed. "Do you forgive me?" he asked softly.

"Oh, Padfoot! Of course --" his voice broke, and a tear leaked out from beneath his eyelid.

Sirius, alarmed by the degree of his trembling, gathered the young werewolf into his arms, and held him close. Remus buried his face in Sirius's neck. "Hush, Moony. It's alright now. You can rest. Everything's going to be fine."

Sirius, clothes almost dry, gazed up into a sky pink with dawn, still caught halfway between dreaming and remembering. It had been Madam Pomfrey who had found them an hour later. Remus had blushed weakly and would not meet her eyes, but Sirius had done so defiantly, arms still tight around the other boy.

She had raised her eyebrows slightly, but all she had said was, "Come now, boys. Let's get you dressed and back up to the school. I expect you'll be wanting some proper rest." She had offered no challenge, nor had she ever mentioned it again. Poppy Pomfrey was nothing if not discreet.

But that had not been important. What was important was the fact that Remus had forgiven him. Remus had loved him. In Azkaban, it had been nearly impossible to recall Remus smiling, happy, loving, until Sirius had almost been convinced that he had made the whole thing up. But out here, under the trees and the sky, he could remember. It had all been true. Some of it had been bad, surely, and Azkaban had played on those memories. But so much of it had been so good! How could he have forgotten?

As the world began to warm to another glorious summer day, he closed his eyes and simply let the memories wash over him, reveling in them as they came flooding back.

He recalled the Marauders -- the first people in all the world to accept Sirius for who he was rather than what he was. James Potter, his best friend, who had drawn out the sullen boy with patience and gentle teasing and showed him that things like wealth and the purity of one's blood mattered far less than friendship and living life to the fullest, or the delicious rush of excitement that came from executing a finely-crafted prank.

And among the Marauders he had also, quite unexpectedly, found love. Remus Lupin -- the first person in his life Sirius had cared for besides himself -- that calm and constant presence, patiently explaining, making sense of the chaotic world of adolescence, ever forgiving, ever loving. Sirius had always considered Remus the first great miracle of his life, from the exciting tingle in his belly in the days when he had come to realise and accept his true feelings, to the wonder and amazement of realising those feelings were returned, to the contentment and satisfaction of building a life together.

The second great miracle had come after he and his friends had left Hogwarts, unexpected in the midst of a dreadful war where there was so little good to cling to. The pride he had felt at being named godfather to the mysterious lump beneath Lily's dress rose within him once again. His hands moved involuntarily as he remembered how it had felt to hold that tiny, precious bundle for the first time. Harry had been less than an hour old, and Remus had still been breathlessly awaiting his turn with the baby.

Sirius reflected that now he had perhaps experienced the third great miracle of his life: he was free. He had thought his life over when the doors of Azkaban had closed behind him at the age of twenty-two. But it was not, and now he could start again, rebuilding the life left behind so long ago.

He shifted to Padfoot and stretched his muscles, still aching from yesterday's long swim. As he set off to discover where he was, birds sang in the trees around him and insects buzzed in the grass. For the first time in a very long time, it felt like a new day. He had people to find and his good name to clear, but for now the most pressing issue was the whereabouts of breakfast.

Survivor's Guilt: Padfoot's Tale © 2005 Skjaere