AN: This story swaps between third person omniscient and first person POVs. The first person povs will be italicized to separate them. They also will not be on the same time frame as the third person. They may be taking place a week before what you just read in third person or a month after, etc. :)
January 13th 1977 - Sirius
He lies here, unknowingly in my arms, shuddering with each breath. They're mangled and hot against the skin of my neck but I'm not noticing. I clutch onto him, afraid of losing him. Again. It's the worst thing that can happen -and that does happen.- I've just gotten him back after my own stupidity lost him to me and I lost him again last night. To the moon. He lets out another shaking breath and my heart clenches at the memory of his pain. So here I am laying in a too-small, closed off hospital wing bed; my arms tightening around him, as if afraid he'll run. In reality, I know he won't. I know he's too weak in this moment. I know he prefers even the days of pain and aching to the nights of animal instinct and the feeling of losing control.
I should remove my arms from his, for once, fragile form. I know how he'll react if he wakes with them around him. He'll ask me why I'm in the hospital bed with him. He'll ask me why I'm even here and not in double potions with Slughorn. I'll tell him I was worried about my best friend and after what we've been through, he'll accept the answer. He knows I worry about him but he doesn't know the depth of my worry. In fact, at this moment, I'm not even sure I understand it. I've always worried about him. Since our first day. But my heart has never clenched at the sight of him like this as much as it does now.