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Sirius woke with a start, his eyes flying open, his lips parted in a sharp yell. The sound seemed foreign to him, several pitches too high, the tone too raspy. His chest heaved with the bygone panic of his wandering subconscious. He could scarcely remember what he had been dreaming about. Looking about the room with darting eyes he slumped back against the headboard of his bed, he wasn’t at Grimmauld anymore, he was at the Potter’s, safe.
Then his dream flooded back to him, at that feeling of relief, he had been back there. He was sticky with sweat as he usually was after a nightmare, but the rapid cooling between his legs felt wrong. Peeling the covers back revealed his shame and tears welled in his eyes before he had even looked, he knew what had happened, knew he was too old. Mrs Potter surely wouldn’t care for this behaviour, he had been trying so hard to avoid crossing her. The tears spilled freely now and he choked around a sob that was wrenched from his throat at the prospect of leaving. Finally he thought he had found his home, but now in the harsh black and white of nighttime he realised how temporary it all was. He couldn’t stop his sobbing, the painful heaving of his lungs. The hot tears ran down his face and what didn’t fell down his throat, choking him.
He stared down at his soaked pyjamas and ruined bedsheets and started crying embarrassingly loudly, not able to stop or calm down. The humiliation washed over him like a weighted blanket and pinned his chest down, he felt pressure like he never had. He couldn’t breath, he couldn’t stop crying, he couldn’t stop the panicked flow of thoughts as he worried what to pack first when he was inevitably kicked out of his newfound home.
A crack of yellow light suddenly hit him and he stopped moving, stopped breathing, stopped everything. For a moment he couldn’t see at all, but he felt James beside him before his vision cleared.
“Mate. It’s okay, it’s alright.” James’ hands were on his shoulders, he was sitting just shy of the wet patch. The tears started anew but this time there was a chest to lean into, a heartbeat to focus on, a shushing noise to calm his frazzled nerves.
“I-I’m so-orry” Sirius shuddered, feeling the damp patch on James’ t-shirt that his tears had made. James shuffled a little, maneuvering Sirius until he was leant back against his chest, his head on James’ shoulder.
“There’s nothing to be sorry for mate, it’s just an accident.” Sirius sobbed at that, pushing his head into James’ neck.
“I’m fifteen,” He muttered pitifully, moving away from Jame’s embrace, feeling disgusted with himself, “Don’t, don’t sit there.” James brushed a gentle hand through his hair, mussed from sleep and from all his frantic pulling at it.
“Shh, Padfoot, it’s alright. Why don’t you come get a shower or a bath, yeah? I’ll go and make a hot chocolate.” Curse James and his mother-hen nature. Sirius felt a bubble of panic at the thought of him leaving. It must have shown on his face, or he whined slightly too loudly because James was cradling him against his chest in seconds, seemingly not caring that one of Sirius’ wet pant legs was pressed lightly against his own bare ones; maybe James would stop wearing just boxers to bed in future.
“Alright, I can sit with you, whilst you clean up? I’ll sit and talk to you.” He said, keeping his strong hands firm on Sirius’ back, rubbing calming circles onto his oversized band tee. Sirius flushed crimson but nodded bonelessly, flailing in humiliation when James scooped a hand under his bum and lifted him off the bed. It was a shameless display of strength and Sirius could feel him smirking above him. He let himself be carried to the bathroom and placed down on the edge of the bathtub.
“You get out of those wet clothes Pads and I’ll start running the bath okay? Do you want lavender bubbles or whatever this one is?” He held up two bottles, one unmarked but containing a yellow bubble bath. Sirius sighed, peeling the wet fabric off his legs and wincing at the cool night air.
“Lavender please.” He said quietly. James nodded and poured way too much under the running stream of water. The wetness had spread halfway up Sirius’ back as well, it was utterly mortifying to divest himself of his wet clothes like a two year old, but he summoned his Gryffindor courage to at least get through this night. James was whistling softly as he stirred the water with his hands. Sirius, standing only in his wet boxer briefs suddenly felt a wave of tears pass over him and he grabbed James around the middle, burying his face in his back. James stiffened for just a second before twisting in his grip and returning the embrace, letting Sirius flop against his chest and guiding them to the floor, Sirius placed between his legs.
“Pads, Padfoot. Hey,” James brushed his hands through his hair softly, pausing to untangle a few knots along the way, “What’s going on? You know I don’t care right, that you wet the bed, it happens Sirius, no one’s going to blame you. You’ve been through so much, you amaze me sometimes how strong you are…” He paused, and took a wavering breath, “I hate seeing you like this mate.” He sounded awfully close to tears Sirius thought. He looked up at James’ shining eyes.
“I just feel so weak.” He whispered.
“No, you’re so strong. You’re so strong.” James whispered back, resting his forehead against Sirius’, the both of them overcome with emotion.
“Right, get in the bath or you’ll get cold. I’ll play you some guitar if you like.” Sirius barked a surprised laugh.
“Where did that come from?” He smiled wetly, “Since when do you play the guitar?”
“I’m learning to impress Lily. Thought it might cheer you up.”
“No offense James but the last thing I need is a private mariachi band as I have a bath.”
“Fine, fine. I’ll just tell you about the top ten quidditch dives of last season. I’ve been reading all about them recently. Okay, so number ten, Miriam Puddleton, she caught the snitch at 45 minutes...”
James wittered on as Sirius got himself into the bathtub and sunk into the warm bubbles. His best mate sat up against the side chatting happily. He was home.