The whispers weren't about him. He knew that. He knew they weren't. Yes, the Slytherins were glancing over in his direction, muttering to one another, looking again and again at him, but he was sitting at the Gryffindor table, across the hall. Just as likely they were really glaring at James or Sirius for some prank or other, or at Lily, who had bested Snape in Potions class that week, or even at Lucy Applebee, whose muggle mother had been killed by some so-called followers of Voldemort some twelve days earlier. There was no reason for Remus to think they were looking at him. Talking about him. Whispering about him. Spreading rumors about him.

Remus focused all his energy and attention on the sprout in his mouth. He could feel it, half chewed, too large to swallow. He felt like if it stayed in his mouth one second longer, he might end up throwing up his whole lunch. His stomach rolled over, threatening to upend entirely onto the table in front of him. He lifted his napkin up and tried to spit out the sprout as delicately as possible, while still getting it out of him as fast as he could. He felt a bead of sweat form on his forehead and roll, ever so slowly, down his temple and jaw. He felt it drip down onto his school robes.

Remus pushed his plate away, trying not to look at his food. He felt his stomach lurch again, and with it went the rest of the room. The Great Hall seemed to spin around him as he tried to take a deep breath, tried to get the ringing in his ears to go away. He clenched his jaw, not sure whether he should be more concerned about throwing up or fainting. He tried again to get a real breath, and felt as though he was sucking through a straw. He reached a shaking hand up and fumbled with his tie, loosening the knot and undoing his top button with clumsy fingers.

The ringing wasn't going away. In fact, it seemed to be getting louder. He put his hand on his heart and felt it pounding, pounding, pounding, far harder than he thought it should, or could. He wondered if standing up was something he could do without collapsing again. The edges of his vision seemed to be going just slightly blurry. It was now or never. If he didn't get out of that seat, out of that hall, somewhere cool, and quiet, and alone, without that blasted ringing, he was going to collapse to the ground and never get up again.

All at once, he pushed the best he was sitting on out and stood up. He was vaguely aware of Peter, who was sitting next to him, sloshing his pumpkin juice as Remus nearly flipped the bench over in his haste. "I've got to," he mumbled, not sure if he had finished his sentence. He was hot, far too hot, and his heart wouldn't stop pounding, and he wasn't sure if his vision was always that shiny or if that was new, but either way he was sure he didn't like it.

Remus rushed out of the hall, focused entirely on getting outside. In the Entrance Hall, however, he saw the main doors to the castle were standing open. Outside there were more people, enjoying the rare day of April sunshine, lazing about by the lake and under the trees. Remus turned down the hallway instead, heading towards the classrooms. He pushed open the first door he came to and found the Transfiguration classroom blissfully empty. He made it to the far wall and leaned against it, hands on the wall, head hanging down low between his arms, still gasping in air, trying to catch a hold of one real breath. Just one breath would be enough, he thought. Just one would do it. If he could get one real breath, maybe his heart would stop racing. Maybe then he wouldn't feel so hot. Maybe the dizziness would go away. Maybe he could unclench his jaw.

Remus thought he was alone until the hand was on his shoulder. He shuddered, his whole body practically convulsing. The hand withdrew, but it was back a moment later, accompanied by its partner, one on each of Remus's shoulders. He shuddered again, but the hands did not move. They stayed, steady, warm. Solid. He could feel each of the ten fingers through his school robe and uniform. He didn't move, but held on, trying to gasp in enough oxygen to kick his brain back on.

He forced his brain to focus. The feeling of the stone wall under his hands. The sound of his own ragged breathing. The way the light danced through the window and onto the floor he was staring at. The taste of bile in his mouth. The smell of something…something he couldn't place for a second. Soap. Freshly washed hair. Some specific smell of shampoo that he couldn't quite place, not with his heart pounding and his head thumping, and his face flushing. What was that smell? Where was it coming from?

"Strawberries," he heard a voice say. It took a few seconds for him to realize it was him. He lifted his head up, staring at the wall, and took the first real breath of air he had managed in what felt like an eternity.

"What's that?"

The voice didn't surprise him. He had put it together. Had calmed his brain down enough to realize whose hands were now slipping off his shoulders as he turned around to face the strawberry scented individual. "You changed your shampoo," Remus said. "Strawberries."

"Oh," Sirius said, shoving his hands into his pockets and looking slightly disconcerted. "I borrowed Pete's. I was out."

"I like the peppermint more," Remus said, and Sirius quirked a half smile at him, briefly, before settling his face back down into a look of deep concern.

"Are you alright?" Sirius asked.

Remus ran both hands through his hair, trying to hide how much they were shaking. "I'm fine."

"You didn't seem fine," Sirius argued.

"I…" Remus sighed. He tugged at his tie. He ran a hand over his mouth, still not entirely sure he wasn't going to lose his lunch. He pinched the bridge of his nose, feeling an all too familiar headache starting. "I will be fine."

"What happened? You just ran out of the hall like you had seen a dementor," Sirius said. "You left all your things and everything."

"I'm sorry," Remus said automatically.

"What's wrong? What's going on?"

"I just…needed to get some air."

"Clearly," Sirius said. "But…why?"

Remus ran both hands across his face, then reached back and rubbed his own shoulders for a moment. The ringing, the flushing, the spinning, all of it was gone. In its place, he felt hollow. Beaten up from the inside out. Like he needed a scalding hot shower, or a nap, or some chocolate.

As though he had read his mind, Sirius reached into his pocket and pulled out half a bar of Honeyduke's milk chocolate and held it out to him. Remus accepted it without a word and took a bite. He looked at Sirius. "How did you know?"

Sirius shrugged. "Like I said. Looked like you had seen a dementor."

"It wasn't that," Remus said. "But the chocolate helps. Cheers."

"Rem," Sirius said softly, and Remus dropped his gaze to the chocolate bar in his hand. "Rem. What happened?"

"I don't know how to explain it, exactly," Remus said quietly.

"Try? Please?" Sirius asked. Remus sank down, sliding against the wall until he was sitting on the ground, knees up, still looking at the chocolate in his hands. Sirius sank down into a desk chair, sideways, facing Remus, watching him intently.

"When I first started at Hogwarts, I used to get these terrible nightmares," Remus said, addressing his chocolate. "I used to wake up screaming, trying to run away, thrashing about."

"I remember," Sirius said softly.

"In the dreams, I would be somewhere normal. In the hall, having lunch, or in the corridor, or a classroom. Surrounded by people. And then someone would shout it out. My biggest, deepest, worst secret. Sometimes it was James, or Pete, or Snape, or even Dumbledore or McGonagall. Different people every time it seemed. And then everyone around me would turn on me. And I knew I needed to get out, to escape somehow. Only I couldn't make my legs move, and I couldn't breathe, and the room would spin around, and I would be stuck. And then I would wake up, screaming, and all that." Remus took another tiny bite of the chocolate. Sirius didn't speak. "The dreams continued for a long time. And then you and James and Pete, you know, you became, well…"

Remus stopped, looking around, sure they were alone, but still nervous to say it out loud. Sirius was nodding. "We changed, yeah. What happened then?"

"The dreams stopped," Remus said with a shrug. "They just stopped. Overnight. You lot showed me what you had done, and I never had another one again. Until recently. They started again not long ago, and with them these…panic attacks I think is the clinical word for it. It's like the dreams, only I'm not dreaming. I'll be somewhere around school, and suddenly I get that feeling. That I need to run, to escape, only I can't breathe, and the world is spinning, and I think I might just pass out instead of being able to run anywhere. It's like my fight or flight has kicked in, only I've chosen flight but I can't seem to manage it."

He saw a tear hit his hand. He didn't remember starting to cry, but now that one had fell, he could feel the rest tracing down his cheeks, sitting, waiting, in his eyes. He didn't bother to brush them away, just sat and let them fall, waiting for Sirius to speak.

"When did they…how long have you been having these…attacks?" Sirius asked haltingly. Now Remus brushed the tears away, roughly, with the back of his hand, and looked up at Sirius. The other boy couldn't keep the look of pity off his face.

"A while," he said vaguely, knowing Sirius would understand no matter how vague he was. He was right. He could see the moment the light dawned in Sirius's eyes. He watched as his two words hit Sirius, and destroyed him. Watched Sirius collapse from within.

"Oh," Sirius said, nearly a moan. "Oh. Oh god. This is because of me. Because of what I did."

"No," Remus lied automatically, not able to stand seeing Sirius look so panicked. Sirius's eyes darted around the room like a trapped animal, and Remus reached out towards him, no matter that they were a solid three feet apart. "Sirius, come on."

"It is," Sirius said, and he stood up now, pushing hands through his hair and pulling at the roots. "It's because of me, isn't it? Because of what I did with Snape?"

"No," Remus lied again. "It's not. I swear."

Sirius looked Remus in the eye, his face white as a sheet. "In your dreams now, who says it? Who blurts out your secret for the world to hear?"

Remus's voice was barely above a whisper as he answered, wishing he could lie to Sirius. "You. It's always you. Since…everything with Snape."

Sirius bent double, as though he had been kicked in the gut, as though Remus's words had physically wounded him. Remus tossed the chocolate aside and stood up, reaching out for Sirius, but Sirius stumbled a step back, straightening up most of the way, his arm still wrapped around his center as though trying to hold himself in. "No, don't, don't touch me, don't try to make me feel better. I should be the one comforting you. I did this to you. This is my fault. I'm so sor—"

"No," Remus said sharply, cutting Sirius off. "No, we aren't doing this again. We aren't going through all this bloody shit again. You messed up. I forgave you. That was a year ago. We aren't going to rehash it. I already forgave you, Sirius. We're us again. We're fine again. This is just…an unfortunate side effect."

"I can't…" Sirius wouldn't look him in the eye. He backed away slowly. When he ran into a desk, he sank into the chair and hugged both arms around himself, looking as though he might shatter into a million pieces at any moment.

"Sirius," Remus said, pleadingly. He knelt down in front of Sirius, gazing up at him for a change. "Sirius, please. Please don't do this. Don't make us go through this again. We're done. We did this already. I for one do not want to live through it again. It was bad enough the first time. But now we're fine. We're okay. Please."

"I'm sorry," Sirius said before Remus could stop him. "It's my fault."

Remus looked at him for a long moment. Then he stood up, feeling a rush of annoyance with Sirius, the drama queen. "You know what? You're right. It is your fault. Now get the fuck over it."

"What?" Sirius asked, staggered.

"You do not get to fall apart, Sirius," Remus said bluntly. "You messed up. I forgave you. Now you need to grow up, get over it, and stop making this all about you. This is my issue. Not yours. Mine. Did it come from something you did? Maybe. Is it your fault? Perhaps. Does that mean you have to fix it? Of course not. This is my shit, Sirius. Mine. So stop. I've forgiven you. I meant it when I said it a year ago. We are past this. Move on."

"How can I when I know what it's done to you?" Sirius asked. Remus felt his righteousness slipping out of him as quickly as it had come. Sirius gazed up at him with his grey eyes wide. Sirius, who knew exactly how Remus liked his tea, and always made it perfectly. Sirius, who couldn't be bothered to take notes in any of his classes, except on the day after a full moon, when Remus would need to borrow them. Sirius, who had pushed his magical abilities to their fullest and learned to shift and morph his body so he could be with Remus at his toughest moments. Sirius, who had taken Remus on his first broom ride, and barely laughed at all when Remus got airsick and threw up in Hagrid's pumpkin patch. Sirius, who smiled at Remus in just the right way, at just the right times, and made Remus's cheeks go pink, his heart fluttering in a way that wasn't scary, that wasn't panic, but was something rather closer to love instead. Sirius, who had been so close to being something more than a friend all those months ago when he had sent Snape into the willow and sent them careening off the path that seemed laid out in front of them. Sirius, who had taken it slowly, agonizingly slowly, in the year since then, letting Remus set the pace, never pushing, never asking for more than Remus could give, never demanding or expecting anything. Seeming to relish each moment that Remus held his hand, each time Remus's fingers brushed against his arm, never pushing or asking or begging for anything more.

Always putting Remus first. Always.

Remus sighed. He sank down into the chair in front of Sirius, twisting around to face his friend. "I'm sorry."

"You don't need to apologize," Sirius said at once.

"You don't even know what I'm apologizing for, you great twat," Remus said, and he was relieved to see Sirius's hangdog expression lighten somewhat. "I'm sorry for saying you can't help me fix this. I know all you want is to fix this, to fix me. But please, Sirius, I can't deal with this shit again. You are absolved, forgiven, everything. Okay? Please?"

Sirius frowned. "I don't want to fix you, Moons. You're not broken. I just want to…I don't know. Do whatever it takes to make you whole again."

It was ironic, Remus thought, that people thought of him, Remus, as the smart one, the brainy one, the wordy one. It was Sirius who could bring Remus to his knees with just one turn of phrase, always seeming to know exactly what to say to make Remus blush, or laugh, or squirm. Or fall more helplessly in love with him.

"I don't need anything to make me whole," Remus said slowly, "Except you." He looked up at Sirius and shrugged.

"What does that mean?" Sirius asked.

"It means that I've had a lot of these attacks, or whatever," Remus said. "I know you haven't seen them, really. They're not always this bad. I can usually cut them off at the pass. A few have gotten like this though. Remember last month, when I fainted? I told you lot it was just because of the full moon."

"I remember," Sirius said, frowning. "That was one of these things?"

"Yes," Remus said. "Normally when they get this bad, I just sort of try to hold on and get to someplace where I can throw up, or pass out, or whatever. I've never walked one back before. Before today, that is. You did that. You, being here, or around, or whatever. You calmed me down. I didn't really think that was possible."

Remus saw the small flash of pride in Sirius's eyes and smiled a very small smile. "So what does that mean?" Sirius asked.

"It means," Remus said, "That if you still feel like you need to help me, you can. Be here for me. When I start to go off, be around. Help me. Hold my hand, or talk to me, or just stand around smelling like peppermint or strawberries, or whatever you bloody smell like that day. And maybe…maybe together they'll go away."

"I can do that," Sirius said. He traced the wood of the desk in front of him with one finger. "I can be here for whatever you need."

Remus reached out and caught hold of Sirius's hand with his own. He wove his fingers into Sirius's, feeling the warmth seep into his own cool skin. "Then we're agreed. You're going to be here. Be around. Always?"

"Always," Sirius agreed.