Marauders x Reader One Shots

Sweet Sixteen || Part Eight - Padfoot

So I got a really good tip from MissWolfstar97 , who pointed out something that sort of helped me solidify exactly how this story is going to end, so thank you so much for that!
  Warning: MAJOR dark topics discussed here. Pretty gory scene described. I understand if you would rather skip this chapter, I will provide a brief explanation of what happened at the bottom so that you don't miss any important details by doing so.

It was cold in the house, which was weird because it was the height of summer.

  Y/n didn't know what to do with her limbs. It was like they were super-glued to her bed and all she could do was writhe in a desperate attempt to free herself. she couldn't be back here. She couldn't. Not when the last time it happened...

  Her breathing was coming in quick, panicking bursts and somewhere in the back of her mind she knew she was hyperventilating, she just didn't know how to stop—

  "Y/N WAKE UP! WAKE UP! PLEASE WAKE UP!"

  The sobbing, terrified screams of her mother cut through her panic and she shot up, eyes flying open. The scene in front of her was too familiar, too real.

  Not again, she pleaded with her mind, please don't make me see it again.

  But her pleas weren't answered. Her mother and father were huddled together in the corner, shaking in fear an grief. Grief for what she had done. Grief for the charred human in the corner, no longer moving. Y/n was frozen in place as she saw the face that had been with her through her entire childhood. That same face was now covered in burns, the eyes closed as if she were simply sleeping in her bed. Except Y/n knew she wasn't. Knew her sister was dead from the way her chest didn't move, the way her eyes didn't shift behind the lids.

  Y/n knew that somehow, in her sleep — her nightmare — she had killed her own sister. That if she hadn't woken up when she did, her parents would have met a similar fate.

  She jolted from the nightmare with a gasp, her skin slick with sweat. She was shaking violently, her body feeling foreign as if she had never been in it before.

  She could still see her parents' faces as they pressed up against the corner, fear and horror filling their features. Fear of her. Of what she'd done and was about to do. She didn't blame them for hating her kind. Didn't blame them for hating her. After all, it was her fault, her fault, her fault, and nothing could change that. It didn't matter that she'd been slowly feeling like her old self these past few days while talking to Sirius. It didn't matter that being with him made her feel like less of  a bad person. None of that changed the fact that she'd royally messed her life — and her parents' lives — up because she let her control slip. Yes, she had dragged herself out of her spiralling pit of self-hatred and grief a while ago, but that didn't mean she never found herself on the edge of it again, in danger of falling right back down, down, down into the suffocating darkness.

  Y/n found herself looking towards Sienna's empty bed, wishing her best friend was here. She was the only person other than her parents who knew what Y/n had done. And she had never judged her for it. Not once. But even so, she would never understand what it was like to have parents who hated you.

  Sirius would, Y/n knew. Now that she'd gotten to know him better, she had started seeing signs of his past trauma with his own parents. The way he avoided talking about them. The way looked at James and Remus as if they were the only family he had. The only true family. And now he was starting to look at her like that. It made her long to tell him everything. She almost had a few hours ago when he'd walked her to the Tower, but, as always, that voice in the back of her head stopped her.