Sirius reached top of the Astronomy Tower in a daze. It was incredible he had not been caught; he didn’t remember taking any particular care not to be seen. A small part of his mind acknowledged that it was foolish to the point of insanity to break more rules tonight. A much larger part knew with immovable certainty that he could not face the Gryffindor common room tonight.
The meeting with Dumbledore had been excruciating. Sirius hadn’t known it was possible to feel so much shame at one time. He had spent most of the interview staring at the surface of Dumbledore’s desk, focusing on betraying as little emotion as possible. This would have been hard enough with Snape sitting next to him, lobbying for his immediate expulsion and possible arrest, but Dumbledore’s quiet reproaches and inescapable disappointment had made it nearly impossible. And yet even that had been nothing compared to the meeting with his friends.
Sirius moved to the battlements, leaning against the cool stones, seeking support from their impersonal strength. Vacantly, he stared into the endless black sky, trying to wash the image of Remus’s stricken face from his mind. Automatically, his eyes traced the familiar constellations, his mind ticking off the names in his head. He stopped when he got to Leo, lingering on the star Regulus.
A new wave of sick shame swept through him, rippling over his determined numbness. It seemed criminally ludicrous now, to allow himself to become so upset over his erstwhile brother. Like he cared. Like Regulus meant anything to him next to James or Remus or—
And then the full force of panic set in. The reaction was so immediate, so physically intense that at first he did not realise why he felt compelled to his knees on the cold, even stones, nearly doubled up in grief and an unnameable terror. He pressed his face against the battlements, trying to stop his heart from battering through his chest, attempting to take deep, steadying breaths.
He could hear his own desperate pants, which was a wonder, since the voice that was screaming inside his head was drawing most of his attention.
This was it. He had finally done it. They would never forgive him for this, never. He had seen the betrayal that twisted Remus’s usually complacent features. He had seen the condemnation in James’s eyes—James, who had never condemned him before, who was like family to him.
A weak laugh escaped between his slowing gasps, and then he couldn’t stop. This seemed to be becoming a sort of sick habit with him, observed the part of him not immediately occupied with shattering into pieces.
Losing two families in under sixth months. That had to be some kind of record. He stopped laughing. Maybe there was something wrong with him, an unseen deformity that made him let people down. Abruptly, Dumbledore’s face flashed into his mind; the way the headmaster’s piercing blue eyes had been filled with anger and disappointment. Sirius had not been able to meet his gaze when Dumbledore demanded his motives. Hadn’t even been able to answer.
How could he have done it? How could he have risked his friend for a petty prank? He had not actually believed Snape would have the guts to take him up on his challenge, (though he had to admit he wasn’t sure if it would have made a difference at that moment). But the danger to Remus hadn’t even occurred to him, he had been so angry. What if Remus had killed Snape inadvertently? Remus had said what would happen, in the Hospital Wing. Remus would have him, Sirius, to thank for making him a murderer. Sirius squeezed his eyes shut against the searing shame that lanced through him. It was inexcusable. Unforgivable.
‘Stupid,’ he spat in a cracked whisper. The sound of his own voice was so pathetically broken that he felt a flash of embarrassment, despite the fact that there was nobody around to hear. Fighting back tears, he sat back, drawing his knees to his chest and dropping his head onto them with a groan. What could he say to make them forgive him? What could he do to fix his horrible mistake? How could he make Remus understand how sorry he was? There was nothing.
‘Good evening, Mr Black.’
Sirius’s head snapped up, cracking against the battlements. Albus Dumbledore had appeared on the tower from nowhere, his silver beard glimmering in the moonlight. An electric shock shot through Sirius; he scrambled to his feet.
‘Professor Dumbledore,’ he gasped, only too aware that he was out of bounds. ‘Professor, I’m sorry, I was going back to the common room, I just—’
Dumbledore held up one long-fingered hand to silence his protests. ‘That’s quite all right. I suspected that you might seek somewhere to collect your thoughts. I often come up here myself; the sky is an indulgent listener, don’t you agree?’ He smiled serenely, but Sirius could not bring himself to smile back.
Dumbledore strolled to the battlements and leaned against them, perfectly at ease. Sirius joined him awkwardly, keeping as much distance between them as he could while still being polite.
‘I have just been to see your friend, Mr. Remus Lupin,’ Dumbledore began, without looking at him.
Sirius’s heart twisted sickly at the word ‘friend,’ but still he did not speak. He stared at the stones beneath his feet.
‘Is there anything you would like to tell me?’
The question came out of nowhere, soft and neutral.
‘Sir?’ Sirius asked, confused.
‘Anything about tonight you would like to speak of, perhaps, out of the hearing of Mr. Snape?’
New anxiety prickled up his spine. This conversation could come dangerously close to the subject of Animagi. It had been miracle enough that Sirius had escaped giving anything away during the initial confrontation with Dumbledore, especially as he had recently discovered just how difficult it was to hide things from the headmaster.
‘I—not really,’ he stammered.
Dumbledore turned to watch him, and in even in the dark Sirius could feel those piercing blue eyes boring into him. It occurred to Sirius that he did have several things he wanted to say, though only one of those was he willing to share aloud. He dropped his gaze, turning to stare straight ahead.
‘I’m…really sorry, sir. For everything. I don’t know why I…’ His words were barely audible and woefully inadequate. He wished Dumbledore would look away.
‘Sirius, I am not blind, for all that I am exceedingly old. I realise there is no love lost between you and Mr. Snape, and I am aware that this has been an exceptionally difficult few months for you.’
Sirius stiffened. Was it possible this conversation was going to get more uncomfortable? How was it that everyone was aware of the details of his home life?
Dumbledore continued, his gentle voice never breaking pace. ‘Leaving one’s home is a monumental decision, and with such decisions are bound to come unforeseen regrets.’
‘I don’t regret that decision,’ Sirius snapped, without thinking. ‘Sir,’ he added belatedly.
Dumbledore was silent a moment, gazing out over the grounds. ‘You cannot choose your brother’s path for him,’ he said softly. ‘Regulus is his own person, as you are yours.’
The directness of the statement threw Sirius off. He opened his mouth to say something, anything, that would dilute the harsh honesty of it, but his breath seeped out in a sigh of defeat. How Dumbledore had gleaned his motives from Snape’s edited and biased testimony Sirius would never know. He did not have the energy to care.
Dumbledore was watching, his blue eyes far too kind for comfort. Sirius shook his head.
‘I know,’ he mumbled. ‘It’s no excuse.’ His eyes blurred treacherously, the price of candour. ‘I can’t believe I endangered Remus because of…him.’ He didn’t know whether he was referring to his brother or Snape. Maybe both.
‘I assume you have made your apologies to Mr. Lupin?’ Dumbledore pressed quietly.
Sirius nodded. He hoped Dumbledore knew it had been more genuine than the one he had been pressed to give Snape in the headmaster’s office.
‘I could only assume he was rather reluctant to accept?’
Closing his eyes, Sirius nodded again.
‘That is understandable,’ Dumbledore observed gently.
‘I know, sir.’ He had to speak an octave lower than usual to ensure his voice didn’t crack. Somehow he didn’t think the headmaster was fooled.
Dumbledore sighed, and turned once more to face the open sky. ‘Friendships are the most remarkable things,’ he murmured dreamily. ‘Fragile as our weakest moments, and yet somehow able to withstand the most taxing trials of human nature.’
Sirius snorted; it was that or sob. Dumbledore watched him closely.
‘You share a very strong bond with Messers Lupin, Potter, and Pettigrew. I am much mistaken if they will not be willing to forgive you…given time and effort.’
Sirius squinted up at Orion. ‘I’m…not so sure about that, sir.’ Only now did he realise his greatest fear. How inconvenient.
‘No one is sure of forgiveness. That is why it is such a wonderful thing.’
If you get it, Sirius thought. But Dumbledore had been much kinder than he deserved, so he tried not to let his doubt show. ‘Yes, sir.’
Dumbledore seemed to sense it anyway. ‘It is the business of humans to make mistakes, Sirius. They are merely part of our growing pains. What matters is how we rise to the occasion. Personally, I often find a good night’s sleep to be very conducive to making fresh starts,’ he hinted.
‘Yes, sir,’ sighed Sirius. ‘I should be getting back,’ he added uselessly, and turned to go. For all that he admired the headmaster’s wisdom, he could not help but doubt that Dumbledore had ever made a mistake so deplorable as this.