The walls of Azkaban were cold. So cold that it felt like the chill had seeped into Sirius Black’s very bones. The wind howled outside, a constant reminder of the unforgiving sea just beyond the prison's crumbling stone walls. But inside, the dampness of the place felt far more suffocating than the air ever could.
The worst part wasn’t the Dementors—he had gotten used to their presence by now. The worst part was the nights. Every single night, when the moon climbed high in the sky, Sirius would find himself staring up at the sliver of silver light through the small, barred window of his cell. It was a mockery, that moon. A reminder of what he'd lost. Of what he'd done.
“James…” he whispered under his breath one evening, his voice cracking as it escaped his lips. He tried to recall the sound of his best friend's laugh, the warmth of his presence, but it felt as if James had never really been there at all. He was a memory, slipping away with each passing day, like a dream fading as the sun rises.
The guilt tore through him every night.
But it wasn’t just James. It was Remus.
He remembered, so clearly, the last time he saw him—those final days before everything had spiraled out of control. Before Peter’s betrayal and the death of Lily and James. He remembered the way Remus’s eyes would soften when they shared a quiet moment, his easy smile, the way he ran his fingers through his hair when he was nervous. Remus had always been the calm in the storm of their youthful chaos.
And Sirius had pushed him away.
The weight of it hit him harder than any curse ever could. Remus had loved him. Sirius had known that, but he'd been too wrapped up in the recklessness of his own youth to see it. They could have been something. They should have been something. If only Sirius hadn’t been so stubborn, so blind.
But that was in the past, now. That was the bitter regret that haunted him every night in Azkaban. That was the ache in his heart that never went away.
Sirius wasn’t sure how long he had been staring at the moon, but the pain was always there. Even now, in his prison, it was a cruel reminder of the life he had lost. He would remember how Remus would sometimes look up at the same sky, and they would talk about it, the way the moon made everything feel closer, more intimate.
But now, everything was so far away.
He never got to apologize to Remus. Never had the chance to make things right. Instead, he had made everything worse.
“What have I done?” he thought, curling his hands into fists. His palms were covered in scars from years of fighting—years of trying to escape, trying to prove that he wasn’t the monster everyone said he was.
There were no answers. No way to change the past. Remus had moved on, and Sirius hadn’t even been there to apologize. To hold him. To tell him he loved him.
“I’m sorry,” he whispered to the moon. “I’m sorry, Moony.”
But the moon didn't answer him. It never would.
---
The hours stretched on, and Sirius felt the darkness of Azkaban creep deeper into his soul. As he lay on the cold stone floor, gazing up at the moon that hung just outside his window, he allowed his mind to wander. The silence of the night was almost unbearable, and yet, it was the only comfort left to him.
And so, he spoke to the moon, as he often did. He couldn’t help it. In his mind, it was Moony—Remus, the one person he had always turned to in moments of need. Even now, even here, he imagined that Remus could hear him.
“You were always the one who listened, weren’t you?” Sirius said softly, his voice trembling slightly as he stared up at the pale light. “I didn’t deserve you, Moony. I didn’t deserve any of it, but you were always there. You always understood. Even when I didn’t understand myself.”
The moon seemed to shine a little brighter, almost as if responding. Sirius’ chest tightened, and he closed his eyes, trying to block out the memories that threatened to overwhelm him. But he couldn’t stop himself from remembering.
“I should have told you, Remus. I should have told you I loved you. I should have told you before it as too late. But I was too scared, too stupid. I never thought I was worthy of someone like you. But I was wrong. I was wrong, Moony.”
He let out a shaky breath and pressed a hand over his heart, as if trying to hold in the ache. “I pushed you away, and now all I have left is this regret. This never-ending silence. And this moon, this pale light, that mocks me every night.”
The moon shone through the bars of his cell, casting an eerie glow on the cold, gray stone. It was all he had left now. The endless sky above him, the cold sea crashing against the island, the dark shadows that lurked in every corner. It was all a reminder of his mistakes.
“I’m sorry, Moony. I never meant to hurt you. I never meant to destroy everything. I thought I was doing the right thing. But now I see... now I know. I’ve ruined it all.”
He could almost hear Remus’s voice in his head, soft and comforting, just like it had always been.
Sirius, it’s not your fault. We both made mistakes. We both lost our way.
But that wasn’t real. That was just his mind playing tricks on him. There was no Remus. Just a memory. And the more Sirius tried to grasp at it, the further it slipped through his fingers.
“I miss you, Moony,” Sirius whispered, tears slipping down his face as the words left his lips. “I wish I could have one more chance to make it right. To tell you everything.”
But the moon said nothing. The wind howled through the stone corridors, a chilling reminder that no one was coming to save him. And so, he lay in the darkness, waiting for the hours to pass.
---
As the night faded and the sky slowly began to lighten, Sirius shifted on the cold floor, his mind wandering once more. The first rays of dawn peeked over the horizon, casting a pale light over the jagged landscape of Azkaban. The sun wasn’t up yet, but the soft pinks and purples of the morning sky made Sirius feel something like hope, something fleeting and impossible.
He let himself drift, imagining that he was somewhere else—somewhere free. Somewhere with the people he loved.
“James,” he murmured, the name slipping from his lips like an old, familiar prayer. "I wish you were here. I wish I could talk to you one last time. I don’t know what to do, mate. I don’t know how to keep going without you."
The sunrise was creeping over the horizon, and Sirius could almost imagine James standing next to him, laughing that carefree laugh of his, the one that always made everything feel okay. The way his eyes would crinkle at the corners when he smiled, that grin that could light up the entire room.
Sirius swallowed hard, the weight of his guilt pressing down on him. He had failed James. He had failed everyone. “I should’ve been there for you. I should’ve protected you better. I should’ve been a better friend, a better godfather, a better... everything.”
But the light of dawn brought only silence. No comforting words. No laughter. Just the endless, suffocating quiet of Azkaban.
“Why did I let it all slip away?” Sirius murmured, his voice breaking. “I couldn’t save you, James. I couldn’t protect you, and I couldn’t protect Remus either.”
The first light of the day seemed to mock him, just like the moon had done all night. It was as if everything was a reminder of his failure. Of how he had watched his friends fall, unable to do anything to stop it.
But still, the light of dawn gave him a tiny bit of hope. Even in the darkness of Azkaban, even after everything that had happened, there was still something.
Maybe, just maybe, there was a chance for him to make peace with the past. A chance to find some semblance of redemption. But for now, all he could do was remember.
And so, as the sky brightened and the sun rose over the horizon, Sirius whispered softly into the empty cell, his voice barely audible.
“I’m sorry, James. I’ll never stop loving you. Never stop missing you.”
But the silence was all that answered.
And the sun, like the moon, moved on.