The Marauders - Order of the Phoenix - Part Two

LXXVI: 24 June, 1994

Sirius sat anxiously on a log, listening closely. He wanted to transform, but he didn't dare to. He didn't know how long it took the animal form to heal once it had been on the edge of death as he'd been... He wished he could ask McGonagall, but he knew it would be a long while before he could ask her anything. 

But maybe one day, he comforted himself, I will be able to. Thanks to Harry and Hermione. One day. 

His wounds were still bloody. He found a small bag tied 'round Buckbeak's neck and in it he found his wand and some food. A block of some cheese, an apple, and some sandwiches. He didn't know where the food had come from - how Harry and Hermione possibly could've gotten his wand and tied it to Buckbeak's neck, or any myriad of questions he had about the little package, but he was entirely too grateful to ask questions of it. He crouched in the shadow of the trees, shoving bites of roast beef sandwiches into his mouth eagerly, sharing bits of the meat with Buckbeak.

He let his mind wander while he ate, thinking of what he might say to Remus when they were alone together. Would there be a lot of apologizing and such or would things be just like old times rather quickly? 

He was nervous, he didn't know what to expect. And hadn't Remus mentioned that he'd been with a friend when they were talking? What if the friend was something more? What if Remus had things to take care of? What if in the heat of the moment, Remus had said things he didn't mean - things like... that they were still married? And if they were still married... what would that look like? Did he dare to dream that it might look... domestic and normal? Or at least as close to that as an ex-convict and a gay werewolf could get anyway? 

He pictured their old flat in East London. Damn he missed that place. If any place had been what he'd thought of when he'd been homesick all those years in the prison, that flat had been it.

Having eaten, he worked at bandaging his wounds. They couldn't be magically healed, but he nipped about through the trees around their clearing and found a couple herbs he recognized from lessons in Herbology or Potions long ago. Wincing at the bitter taste, he chewed them up and spat them into his hand, making a sort of paste to put on them, which wasn't as good as if he'd had a real salve from the Hospital Wing, but it was better than nothing. He smeared that onto his cuts and magicked bandages around them, covering them, protecting them from the elements. It was shoddy medical care at it's finest, he thought, and he'd be lucky if his limbs didn't fall right off.

Ah, James would be tickled by that.

Every now and then, through the trees, he would hear a sound and he would spring up to his feet and draw his wand, expecting the werewolf to come spinging through the brush. At first, he was concerned about the werewolf coming out and getting him but the longer the night wore on, the more he was concerned with having not heard the wolf - not for his sake, but for Remus's.

Where was that stupid wolf?

If Sirius was as torn up as he was... surely Remus was just as bad, if not worse, since he was probably tearing himself up even more now that he didn't have the dog to take his agitations out on or to distract him.

Sirius took to pacing as three o'clock rolled about and he was still without any sign of the wolf.

At four, Sirius took up Buckbeak's lead. "Come on," he said, leading him along. Buckbeak was displeased, stamping his taloned feet in irritation that he was being kept awake at such odd hours for a hippogriff. Sirius tucked the rucksack around his shoulders and paused in the brush, gathering more of the herbs and leaves he'd found. He shoved them into the rucksack nervously, taking a lot more of them than he thought he'd need... more than he prayed he would need.