Cold. Sirius tucked his knees close to his chest, attempting to escape the waves of freezing air as dementors passed by him. He felt a single tear escape from his eye, only for it to be frozen solid on his cheek.
He felt exposed, weak. His head was filled with all of his worst memories, accompanied only by the occasional screams and deranged laughter. Sirius was only a shell of his former glory. He had been broken from inside out and ripped apart. He wiped his bottom lip, only then noticing the blood smearing his hand.
Sirius stared at the blood, glistening on his hand. It gave him the illusion of warmth, of comfort. He had always been taught the importance of his blood. No matter how hard he had tried to get rid of his family’s beliefs, he always felt as though he was more valuable. He didn’t really care about being pureblood, but he cared about being a Black.
Sirius tore his eyes off of the now dried blood, unsure of how long he had been staring. He knew if he kept looking and thinking, he would eventually start thinking of happy things. That couldn’t happen, not here. Not when each and every single happy thought could be taken from him, leaving him even more empty than he already was.
He forced himself to think of the worst. He remembered pain, like a burning hole in his heart. It was his mother, she had finally done it. SHe had burned Sirius off of the family tapestry.
He remembered trying to hold himself together until he eventually made it back to the dorm. Then he broke down, knowing it was over. He could never return now. Sirius had promised James he would never return, but at least it was an option before. This just made the decision easier, he supposed. Walburga Black didn’t love him.
Sirius had loved his mother for many years, he still did to some extent. He felt an obligation to the woman who had raised him, but she didn’t bring him any fond memories. He remembered the night he left, his mother’s cold voice.
“Perhaps you should leave then. Be like your degenerate cousin, you're no use for me and my family, Sirius.”
“Maybe I will.”
Then he left. He had often thought about whether or not his mother missed him. Maybe she did in the beginning, he remembers vividly hoping she would burst into his room and begin yelling. He knew it wasn’t healthy to miss such an environment, but it was in those moments which he felt most like his mother.
Sirius had grown up duelling his cousins and siblings. Fighting was a sign of respect when it came from family. It meant you were worth disagreeing with. He missed being able to yell and scream and let all out of him. He missed throwing spells out wildly like he was meant to. With his friends, Sirius had to avoid showing strong emotions in order to not be associated with his family. With his family, he had to be disciplined. Despite his discipline, his family knew the power of emotion felt, and so inside his house he could do as much destruction as it took for him to feel okay.
Sirius was once again awakened from inside of his mind as he felt the cold pull of a dementor. He shut his mind at once, feeling the memories of his worst fights flood to the surface. The dementor screeched, a horrid sound Sirius was sure he could never forget. He knew the sound was a sick show of enjoyment from the creature. He spat towards the creature.
“Leave me alone you half-breed!” He yelled.
The dementor seemed to sense another prisoner’s despair and it drifted away slowly. Sirius turned his back towards the bars which held him in. He shook uncontrollably, not sure if it was rage or cold.
Sirius looked at the small window, hoping to see the sky. He knew despite his complicated relationship with his family, they would always be in the sky above, watching him. To his disappointment, a heavy cloud of mist covered the sky, making him unable to see the stars.
Sirius felt hopeless, not knowing how long he had been in this cell. He wanted out, he wanted home. He wanted his mother.
Sirius joined the cacophony of screams and shrieks with his own helpless cries. He felt like a child once again, crying over broken glass. Unlike in his childhood, his mother wasn’t there to fix the cuts on him. His mother didn’t love him anymore, not like when he was a child.
Sirius’ cries turned into loud, high pitched howl’s. The noise that could only come from a big black dog.
Padfoot didn’t feel as horrid as Sirius did, and it was a much needed relief from his constant mental agony. Padfoot looked around and saw the coast was clear of any dementors. He charged towards the bars and threw himself at them, over and over again. Maybe one day, he could get through. Maybe one day he could escape, and see the stars once more.