Sirius
Sirius Black’s life had never been easy. To be frank, it had only ever been the exact opposite of easy. But it had never been as miserable as in that exact moment, huddled together on the cold, dirty floor of the tiny Azkaban cell.
Two weeks had passed since he had been arrested. Fourteen days. Coincidentally, or maybe even tragically, there had been a full moon during those two weeks. It was very visible through the tiny, barred window, the moonlight shining past the bars and illuminating his cell in a way it hadn’t been illuminated before.
Still, no matter how Sirius looked at it, he couldn’t find any positivity in that fact. Not that there was anything positive there in the first place, the sheer presence of the dementors making him almost relive his worst moments in his mind.
But there had been something about that full moon that made him lose his mind even more than this godforsaken place.
The knowledge Remus would be alone with himself, yet again, with no one he could count on, no one he could trust. And if it wasn’t that, it was the pain in his heart, knowing even if he managed to break out, he wouldn’t want Sirius there.
Not when he was a cold blooded murderer and death eater in the eyes of the entire wizarding world.
Not when Remus thought Sirius had been the one to betray James and Lily.
In the end, it had been his fault to a certain extent, he thought when his days became especially miserable. He had been the one to suggest Peter as a secret keeper. And it had been Peter who betrayed them, tearing their lives apart in ways not even the war itself did.
James was dead. So was Lily. And Remus…
Sirius didn’t even dare go there, but when he did, it always sent him spiraling into a deep, dark hole with no way out. His thoughts became as dark as this place was, with its smell of death and pained, tortured screams echoing through the passages.
Moony…that had been the nickname given to him.
It hurt so much to know Remus no longer would think back to it as something sweet, a loving nickname given by his best friends. Instead, it would be a reminder of the horrors he had gone through, and a reminder of the horrors that had yet to come, which he would have to live through alone.
All by himself.
And there was nothing he could do.
He started frantically turning around on the cold cell floor again, as if trying to shake off the deep running feelings of exasperation which seemed to be present every second of every minute of every hour, ever since he had found out.
It was true. His life had never been exactly kind to him, but there were people that were.
James. Remus. Lily.
How had all of this happened? Everything had been alright, good even, when they graduated from Hogwarts. Sirius had been so full of hope back then, a now foreign word to him, hope for a new life with the most important people of his life.
Away from the Grimmauld Place, which back then had seemed like the worst place to ever exist. Away from his family, the worst kind of blood supremacists on earth, people he’d sworn he’d never become like.
But what was the point now? Now, when everyone thought of him as a madman, a death eater, a traitor. What was the point now, when every single drop of his will to live was being sucked out of his body, his mind, his soul?
The only thing that kept him going, ironically, was rage. Rage for himself, for suggesting a new secret keeper. Rage for his mother, Walburga, for having brought him into his hellhole of a life. But most importantly, rage for Peter Pettigrew, and his goddamned cowardice and selfishness, that had put an end to every good moment and overshadowed any happy memory he still had.
But for some reason, his rage had become Sirius’ best friend in those fourteen days he’d already spent there. Because it kept him going, rather than allowing him to lose his mind and his last sense of self. Because when he didn’t feel rage, he’d feel the despair and desperation that seemed to reign this place.
He didn’t know exactly when he had decided to kill Pettigrew, maybe it had been during his two week long stay or during his admission. Maybe he had already come to terms with it when he’d first heard his best friend had died. He didn’t know. It all seemed kind of blurry.
All except the certainty he’d get revenge. He’d avenge James and Lily, who had died way too soon. He’d avenge Remus, who’d now again have to be alone on moonlit nights, facing his darkest fear of himself without anyone who had his back.
And he’d avenge himself, and the time he’d spent in Azkaban, and the time he’d still have to spend there. But he would.
And he’d see Remus again. Remus, with his chocolate obsession and his books, with his ‘furry little problem’ but most importantly, his Moony.
He’d see him again. Whether it’d take a night or a thousand years. He’d see him again, and there was nothing anyone could do. He’d see him again.
His Moony.