"Every man is in his own hell."

- Shakespeare

1.

See, Sirius is one of those inhuman specimens who never falls ill, but James has had two bad bouts of 'flu in their one-and-a-half years of Hogwarts, and Peter once stayed out all night in the snow because the fourth years gave him Firewhiskey and caught a fever that had him hallucinating for three days. And Remus, despite his jumper abuse and obscene rationality about his own wellbeing, is quite often skinny and pale and tired-looking, sometimes getting night-long high temperatures that enable Sirius to sit and chat to him and give him cold flannels until he can sleep, the sickliness is all just the way he is.

And all the others get ill sometimes too: Millie Luckworth, a pretty girl Sirius vaguely knows, managed to develop and then recover from meningitis last autumn for example. All this, Sirius knows. Everyone gets ill, and will keep getting ill, in the draughty castle. So it seems entirely suspicious that now Remus is hot and white and sweaty and shivering and throwing up into the basin beside his bed, there is such a commotion.

Dumbledore has looked out of character and worried, and has been to visit Remus four times in the past two days. Remus has looked utterly miserable, and they have had hushed conversations that Remus just lies to Sirius about the nature of when he asks later. Sirius would like to have been angry that Remus doesn't trust him with whatever is going on, but he can't feel annoyance when he sees him, delicate, fragile Remus, nestled in blankets, pale as a ghost, shivering violently, hair sticking to his face with sweat, only scratchy, uncomfortable helplessness, and sympathetic misery so intense sometimes he thinks he feels physical pain.

Not that he hardly has a chance to see Remus now he is ill with this mystery fever that looks a hell of a lot like a usual fever and there's a group of professors who flock to their dorm to continually take his temperature and prescribe things and feel his forehead and read him things he clearly isn't listening to and try and force gallons of water down his throat. Sirius doesn't understand the desperation of trying to get him better so quickly, and thinks privately he alone could do a much better job of looking after Remus, keeping him somewhere dark and cool with blankets and supplying him with food and calm companionship (even that sounds good; maybe he's the one with the fever after all).

He thinks Remus would probably smile if he kissed him on the forehead and closed the door, leaving him to get better at his own pace. Not all this- pressure. Anyway, Dumbledore leaves Remus after another of their private conversations and Remus beckons Sirius over, weakly. He hasn't left the bed in three days, except to go to the toilet, and has slept an obscene amount.

He looks terrible, his face dusty, eyes dull and nestled on purple bags, lips thin and white. It makes Sirius itch restlessly and his mind race, because he isn't being allowed to do a thing to help.

Usually Remus is the one he goes to when the top of his head feels like it'll blow off soon with his mind screaming and he doesn't even know what about. He just always feels this rage.

"How are you feeling?" asks Sirius kindly, sitting gently on the edge of the bed, trying to stay very calm when he just wants to leap on and hug Remus and make him feel better.

"Bad" croaks Remus, stating the obvious. "Thanks, though. Sirius, I've got to go away for a couple days- it's all complicated, 'cos I'm ill, and I've not really been listening to them talk, but it's just for- treatment."

"But you only have the 'flu," says Sirius suspiciously, feeling anger well up in his chest. "We've all had it. You can't treat that – you just have to let it get better. Not travel." Remus looks lost for words.

"I- you can."

"How?" demands Sirius immediately.

"I don't know- well- no I mean- I did say I've not been paying attention, it's- I don't know. I'll be back soon. What's the problem?"

"So, how come they didn't take James away for this, then, when it was him?" he reasons angrily, frustration boiling up inside him because Remus is being so vague. He's deliberately avoiding the fucking conversation and Sirius cannot deal with this.

"I'm not a fucking doctor!" snaps Remus tiredly. He looks so exhausted, so defeated. Sirius's insides tremble and itch to know what's going on. Poor Remus. Bony, pale, tragic, fragile Remus. And he is tragic, this boy he knows so well and loves so much, it's like he's labouring under this huge weight, now he thinks it, that's almost exactly what it is. It's like he knows him so very well, yet not at all.

"Sorry" Sirius says quietly, such an un-Sirius thing to say that Remus lifts his head with his stiff neck and looks at him. "Look, it's going to be alright, mate, you know," says Sirius gruffly. And Remus's bloodshot eyes suddenly fill with tears. "I don't mean- like, in a really soppy way" says Sirius hurriedly, wondering what's happening to his sensible, mild-mannered, composed friend – and what's wrong with his stupid eyes. Sirius is normally the emotional one, and he actually does cry more than all the other Marauders put together, he rants and raves and screams daily and hugs and sometimes kisses his friends and even people he doesn't know well, but Remus is very closed off.

But now he's ill, he's aching and nauseous, he's despairing, somehow he's greatly weakened, and his eyes and mouth are red and wet. He jerks his arm free of the duvets to grab Sirius's hand, and shuts his eyes, and Sirius looks miserably at the tears dribbling silver lines down his beautiful face.

"Remus" he says suddenly. "How did you get that scar?" The tears are dripping over it, and it's only very fine, across his nose and cheek, like a little white thread nestling in his wet skin. And Remus opens his eyes, and, in a voice like his heart is breaking, looks at Sirius and whispers, "You're often right about a lot of stuff, and I'll deny that if you tell anyone, but you are, but- somehow, I don't think it's all going to all be alright, Sirius, you know." And he shuts his eyes again, chest shaking, long eyelashes spiky.

"Why?" asks Sirius very quietly, as if the answer's a clandestine secret, and only as he says it he realises his voice is wet and choked too, because his throat feels like it will close, and he doesn't know why.

"Go away, Sirius" mumbles Remus, his hand crawling away from Sirius's, his head tilting back, his eyes closing.

"What? I'll stay here. I'll look after you." Sirius wipes his eyes hurriedly with his cuff, being strong for Remus.

"LEAVE ME ALONE" Remus rasps harshly, eyes still clamped shut, and his chest jerks with stifled tears. He needs to cry, and he isn't going to until Sirius leaves, so rather than let Remus feel he's an intruder, Sirius does, wandering back to the common room, and sitting alone feeling very shaken. Beautiful, soft, sweet Remus, upstairs dying all alone, and still lying to him.

He's lying with his fake smile, lying with his silence, lying with his excuses about everything. Sirius has been sleepless, so he drops off in the common room and when he wakes, an hour or so later, he knows exactly what to do. He races back up the spiral steps.

James and Peter are sitting on Peter's bed playing Wizard's Chess. Remus's bed is made.

"Where is he?" Sirius practically screeches.

James moves a piece and says: "They already took him away. Hey Pete- Checkmate."

Update to come soon, if people like. Reviews are prized, so much appreciated, and stuck on my little metaphorical wall of love. :)