Marauders One Shots

Injured (S.B./LE)

Warnings: descriptions of injuries, a gross misuse of commas

Word count: 2.9k

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Sirius slumps against the garden wall; holding a hand to his bleeding arm. He grits his teeth against the pain, resisting the growing urge to moan in pain.

A rogue spell had hit him after his cover had been blown on a mission. The Death Eaters he were following had been tipped off to his presence and retaliated from the first sign of his appearance.

It got nasty quickly.

Sirius had always been talented with duelling spells; practicing most of them on Severus Snape through his formative years at Hogwarts.

But twelve years imprisoned in Azkaban had made his reflexes a little rusty.

Sirius hisses, putting pressure on the wound to stem the bleeding. He wouldn't be able to heal this on his own; he was already feeling woozy from the blood loss. The swears that leaving his mouth in response to the pain, would turn even the dirtiest of cheeks red.

He gathers what little strength he has left and enters Grimmauld Place.

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From your place in the kitchen, you have a clear view of the front door. The minute Sirius left on his mission, you had sat down in that place and you wouldn't move until he walked through the door again.

From your place in the kitchen, you see Sirius walk through the front door – face pale, arm bleeding.

He sags heavily against the wall; his face drawn with pain. You shoot up out of your seat, practically running the ten feet to him.

Your eyes take in the damage: a deep cut running down the length of his upper arm, and it was bleeding heavily. You knew then that his mission had gone wrong and he had been very close to dying tonight. Your heart skips a beat at the very thought; a life without Sirius would be like living with half a heart.

You smile as calmly as you can, "Alright, sweetheart. I think we're going to need to sort this out, don't you?"

"You're not wrong, darling."

You wrap an arm around his waist; supporting his weight as you walk down the hall to the kitchen where you could get him sat down.

"Harry?" You call; sitting Sirius down at the large kitchen table.

"Is he going to be okay?" Harry questions, his voice wobbling despite his best attempt to not let it. He had followed you out from his place in the kitchen; he had chosen to spend time with you to get to know you better as his Godmother rather than stay upstairs with Ron and Hermione.

"He's going to be just fine, but I need to you to go find me some things okay?"

"What do you need?"

"I need a towel and a fresh shirt for Sirius too – a button up if you can find one. Can you get those for me please?"

"I'll be right back with them."

He disappears; you can hear his feet clattering up the stairs – in a rush to get what you asked for. You head to the kitchen, grabbing a pair of scissors from the draw before reaching for one of the many first aid kits hidden around the house.

"Sirius, I know how much you love this jacket and shirt but I'm going to have to cut off the sleeve."

He groans; half from the pain in his arm and half from the pain of losing this jacket. "Babe, they're my favourite."