the_debt_of_time

he ever had before in his life, one last hurrah to try and permanently bury the mistrust, the
heartache, the grief, and the pain.
So why wasn't he hungover?
Sirius looked to the side, noticing that he was in Potter Manor—his old bedroom.
A large assortment of potions were on a table by his bedside. James was sat in a chair
nearby, glaring at him.
He must have drank himself to the point of injury.
"Oh," Sirius muttered.
James rose a brow. "Oh?"
Sirius coughed, trying to clear the dryness from his throat. "Mornin', Prongs." He
smiled up at his best friend, who was suddenly hovering over him with a deranged look on
his face. Uh oh.
"You dickhead!" James yelled, sending a balled up fist into Sirius's cheek. "You
drank yourself into a coma, and you wake up and say 'Oh?' like nothing happened?"
Coma?!
"Ow! Arsehole, stop hitting me!" Sirius winced, trying to defend himself but not
having the strength to move much. How long had he been unconscious?
"What the hell is going on in here?" Lily yelled, bursting into the room, wide eyes
on her husband. Upon making eye contact with Sirius, she rushed to the bed, wrapping her
arms around his neck. "Oh God, we thought you were going to die, you idiot. If you were
a Muggle, you'd be dead, do you know that, you awful man? We were lucky that Peter was
sober enough to bring you here!"
Sirius looked over her shoulder where Peter sat in the corner of the room, avoiding
everyone's attention.
"Madam Pomfrey said that the Pack Bond probably saved your life," Lily said,
releasing him.
Remus walked into the room just in time to catch Lily in his arms, glaring down at
Sirius while the witch sobbed against his chest. He shifted her into Peter's arms just as
James reared back again and hit Sirius hard in the shoulder.
"Prongs!" Remus shouted as he rushed to his friend, pulling him away from the
bed. "He's still injured!"