It was difficult to watch the way Sirius moved here in this dark, lonely cell; it was painful to understand that he had been reduced to moving like this, stiff, slow and uncoordinated, for a long time before this moment. How long had he been stuck here, in pain and without any hope of rescue, knowing that the only way this would ever end was with his death? Sirius was a strong-willed person, Remus knew that better than most people: even so, the effort of will it must have taken for him just to survive to this point was staggering.
It occurred to him somewhere in the back of his mind that Dumbledore - or maybe several members of the Order - must have known what was happening to Sirius. And they hadn't told him. They'd had the ability to get in touch with him, even among the werewolves - he's been summoned by secret Order contact more than once in the past few months - but they'd never told him. Had anyone told James and Lily what was going on? Had they told Peter? Or had it been felt that it was safer to let Sirius endure what he could here alone? He was going to have to think about this later on, and about what it meant. But there was no time now.
"Right, good," he said quietly, steadying Sirius upright against the wall with one hand on his shoulder. He was examining a particularly crusted gash across the right side of Sirius's chest. "Let's start with this cut here."
He glanced up into Sirius's face, his lips pulling back in a brief sympathetic grimace: the light from the magical fire beside them glinted off teeth that were noticeably sharper than usual. "I'm going to have to decontaminate it first, I'm afraid. Tell me if you need a moment and I'll stop, all right?"
There was no need to warn Sirius that decontaminating an injury without using a numbing potion was painful - all of them had performed this procedure for one another at some point in the past couple of years.
As he set to work cleaning the area with a conjured cloth, he finally responded to Sirius's warning. "Yes, it looks like they know who we are," he agreed, looking studiously down at Sirius's chest rather than up into his face. "That's why they called me here in the first place. But I'm not leaving you here, whatever you think you can handle."
no subject
It occurred to him somewhere in the back of his mind that Dumbledore - or maybe several members of the Order - must have known what was happening to Sirius. And they hadn't told him. They'd had the ability to get in touch with him, even among the werewolves - he's been summoned by secret Order contact more than once in the past few months - but they'd never told him. Had anyone told James and Lily what was going on? Had they told Peter? Or had it been felt that it was safer to let Sirius endure what he could here alone? He was going to have to think about this later on, and about what it meant. But there was no time now.
"Right, good," he said quietly, steadying Sirius upright against the wall with one hand on his shoulder. He was examining a particularly crusted gash across the right side of Sirius's chest. "Let's start with this cut here."
He glanced up into Sirius's face, his lips pulling back in a brief sympathetic grimace: the light from the magical fire beside them glinted off teeth that were noticeably sharper than usual. "I'm going to have to decontaminate it first, I'm afraid. Tell me if you need a moment and I'll stop, all right?"
There was no need to warn Sirius that decontaminating an injury without using a numbing potion was painful - all of them had performed this procedure for one another at some point in the past couple of years.
As he set to work cleaning the area with a conjured cloth, he finally responded to Sirius's warning. "Yes, it looks like they know who we are," he agreed, looking studiously down at Sirius's chest rather than up into his face. "That's why they called me here in the first place. But I'm not leaving you here, whatever you think you can handle."