I know you're somewhere out there
Somewhere far away
I want you back, I want you back.
Sirius was in pain. Sirius lived most of his days in pain now. It was a combination of many things. His living arrangements were less than stellar, for a start. The damp, leaking ceiling, the bricked walls and floor, the singular plank of wood and threadbare blanket that, apparently, was supposed to substitute as a bed. A permanent stale breeze hung in the air, it both smelled and left Sirius’ teeth chattering with its cold bite. Sirius had never been claustrophobic before, but staring at the same grey, bricked walls that was crawling with moss and other patches of colour (that Sirius was too queasy to look at closely) he could definitely feel himself becoming so.
My neighbours think I'm crazy
But they don't understand
You're all I had, you're all I had
He was aware of the different people that surrounded him, not too close; they didn’t want any of them conspiring, making plans or so on. More often than he cared to admit, the word family came to mind. He knew the majority of his estranged extended family lived among these cells. He didn’t know how many, of course, but he assumed it was a fair few. For the first time in years, he thought of his brother, Regulus. The idiot had gotten himself killed a few years prior. Sirius never knew the specifics of what happened, but he had been tangled in all his family’s pureblood shit, and so Sirius assumed his brother had just got drunk with his newfound power as TheHeir. Probably all went to his head, the attention. Sirius’ anger began crawling up his throat and pushed tears to the corner of his eyes. Two warring thoughts circled Sirius’ head. He was only 18 and that arrogant, immature fucking idiot. Sirius didn’t have it in him to hate Regulus, not really.
At night, when the stars light up my room
I sit by myself
Talking to the moon
Trying to get to you
Sirius thought of Remus often, it hurt, but he deserved the hurt. He wondered if Remus ever thought of him anymore. Did he want him to? No, Remus should move on, find someone better, find someone who would never doubt him, never think him a traitor. Sirius hit his palms against him forehead, the tears sprung to his eyes with ease. How could he have ever thought his Remus, his Moony, would ever have betrayed James and Lily? He was a Gryffindor to the heart, as loyal as they come. Sirius used to give himself excuses; the war blinded him, he didn’t trust anyone back then, on and on and on. He tried to explain to himself every which way to make it make sense, he couldn’t understand why the thought had ever even entered his head. It was better Remus thought him the traitor, he would do better without Sirius.
In hopes you're on the other side talking to me, too
Or am I a fool who sits alone talking to the moon?
Full moons were when it hurt most, he would watch the path of the moon every month, watch the silvery glow cover the distant forest. His heart tugged, he longed to transform into Padfoot and leave his confines to be there with Remus, with the wolf. Sirius knew that without the other marauders, the wolf tore Remus apart. Leaving his body littered with scars and torn up skin. Sirius remembers the first time he saw Remus in the hospital wing, after knowing what he was. The Remus that he knew, the strong, sarcastic, ridiculously smart git that was his best friend had been reduced to this pale, frail boy that Sirius almost didn’t recognise. It was then that he decided he would do anything in his power never to see Remus like that again. He screamed in frustration, he screamed until his throat was raw, but he kept on screaming. Remus was out there, his Remus, was out there in pain, and he was here, locked in a cell, hundreds of miles away, with only the moon as company. He shook the door of his cell, hearing it echo painfully around the prison. His whole body begged to be near Remus. His screams echoed the halls most nights. He was good at causing scenes, foolishly hoping someone might take pity on him. Not in here. He would get no such pity in a place like this.
I'm feeling like I'm famous, the talk of the town
They say I've gone mad
Yeah, I've gone mad
They listed his crimes. Betrayal. Traitor. Murderer. Torturer. Unforgivable Curses. Death Eater. He let out a bitter laugh, it sounded like home. He knew his laugh would be misinterpreted but he figured he had nothing left to lose. He’d already lost his family, his friends, his life, there was nothing left they could take from him. He laughed again, colder. He wondered what his parents thought of him. Were they proud of him? For once. The thought made his skin crawl. He felt sick. He was so overwhelmed and overexerted that he promptly collapsed in his restraints and emptied his stomach right there, on the floor, before being hauled out to be taken to his cell.
Sirius had never been scared of much in his life. The Gryffindor in him was too proud to admit when he was. Azkaban thrived on fear, there was no escaping it. The sheer number of Dementors surrounding the prison alone was enough to send one to madness. The higher profile the crime, the higher up said criminal was in their cells, and therefore, closer to the Dementors. If the number of stairs he had been dragged up was any indication, Sirius was right at the very top.
But they don't know what I know
'Cause when the sun goes down, someone's talking back
Yeah, they're talking back, oh
Sirius was thankful for his ability to become Padfoot, his one solace in this hell. Being a dog seemed to numb his senses, funnily enough he felt more human in his animagus form than himself these days. Padfoot also seemed to keep the dementors away, perhaps they assumed he’d finally been reduced to madness and couldn’t form his own thoughts anymore. He wasn’t far off. He couldn’t trust his own mind anymore, it kept reminding Sirius of what could be waiting for him outside of the prison walls. He didn’t want to think about the possibility of Remus waiting for him so, of course, that’s all he ever thought about. Sometimes, Sirius swore he could hear his voice, calling to him, comforting him or contrarily yelling at him, insulting him. Sirius wasn’t sure which one hurt more. He woke most mornings with Remus’ name on his lips, and though he desperately tried not to, he couldn’t help but think of the nights they had together in their shared flat; the long nights where they would touch and kiss every inch of each other. Sirius always spent a great deal of effort on Remus’s scars. Remus hated them but Sirius thought they were beautiful. He told Remus so with every kiss.
Thoughts like these only broke Sirius’ heart. He couldn’t stand the thought of another man, or woman, getting to appreciate Remus the same way he used to. It turned his heart green with jealousy.
At night, when the stars light up my room
I sit by myself.
While the stars reminded him of both Remus and Regulus, they also reminded Sirius of Andy. He thought of Andy a lot, she was safe to think about, and he didn’t want to forget her. He thought about her, and her daughter, Nymphodora, as she was called. Sirius remembered one of the times he’d visited the Tonks family. It was a far cry from Grimmauld Place; the bright, open, lived-in space shocked Sirius when he first arrived at the Tonks residence. The windows let in actual, natural sunlight and there were definitely no creepy paintings with eyes that followed you. He stepped in the doorstep and was immediately accosted by a small blue-haired child. The child stepped back and blinked her dark, round eyes at Sirius, before waving a small hand. Sirius waved back. Just then Andy appeared at the end of the hallway.
“I see you’ve met my little monster, cousin.” She said, with a smile, walking over to Sirius. She wrapped him in a hug and led him into the living room, where Ted began reading to Nymphodora. He raised a hand in acknowledgement to Sirius, Sirius nodded back. This was one memory Sirius clung to, his only peace in this place.
Talking to the moon
Trying to get to you
In hopes you're on the other side talking to me, too
Or am I a fool who sits alone talking to the moon?
All his time alone gave Sirius far too much time to think about things, and one of the things that had always alluded Sirius, was his lack of trial. Surely, even in these times, and in the interest of fairness, they would check something. What happened to innocent until proven guilty and all that bullshit? Slowly, all the events began to click into place. Why was James’ Invisibility Cloak taken from him the night of his murder? Why couldn’t James or Lily be their own Secret Keeper? Why on Earth did Dumbledore have a need for James’ cloak? It didn’t make sense!! Why wasn’t his wand checked? Why didn’t they use Veritiserum upon his arrival? Why why why!? Sirius’ anger slowly mounted, it would become so overwhelming, his vision would cloud, and his body would freeze, as if he had just been hit by a Levicorpus jinx.
The Dementors only sucked the good out of you, so Sirius’ anger only got worse over his time in Azkaban. He swore and cursed them all, Peter and Dumbledore and his parents and Regulus, even Remus. He called them every colourful name under the sun, accompanied with his furious ranting. It wasn’t fair. None of it.
His anger towards Peter was so potent, it scared him. He had been his friend. One of his best friends. How could he do this? To him, but especially to James. Wormtail adored Prongs. He would never admit it out loud, but sometimes Sirius felt it bordered on obsession, but even then, he never imagined that Peter would do such a thing. One of Sirius’ favourite things about Wormy was his loyalty. In school, he regularly took the fall for some of Sirius and James’ pranks. He would sit with Remus and help him with Herbology. He went to every single one of James’ Quidditch games, even when Remus and Sirius would sometimes skip, in favour of having the dorm to themselves. Had he always been like this? Had this Peter always been there? Had any of it been real? There were too many unanswerable questions that swam in Sirius’ head.
'Cause every night, I'm talking to the moon
Still trying to get to you
In hopes you're on the other side talking to me, too
Or am I a fool who sits alone talking to the moon?
Oh-oh
Twelve years. Twelve years Sirius had spent in this place. There wasn’t much of the man he once was before; he could barely remember him. What did he like? What did he do? Who was he? The man Sirius used to be had wasted away. A lot of time had passed, he was no longer the arrogant 21year old with a flighty temper and a flare for dramatics, he was 33 now, and he was tired.
So tired.
He wondered if there was anyone left outside these walls that still remembered him, still missed him. His mind wandered to thoughts of Remus, was he all alone too? He tried to remember what it felt like to be held by him, to be enveloped in his arms. It had been so long since he had felt that way. He hung his head, and tears streamed from his eyes and fell to the floor. Sirius began to mourn his lost life. The life he planned to share with Remus. After the war, they were going to move somewhere away from it all, maybe somewhere by the sea. In Wales! Next to the old Lupin cottage! Maybe they’d get married, unofficially of course, but true in the eyes of those who mattered. He imagined Remus’ shining eyes as they danced under the stars. He thought the dementors would’ve appeared to suck these thoughts from his head by now, but maybe they were tinged with so much bitterness and despair, they didn’t even count as ‘happy’. Sirius forced himself to shake the train of thought even so.
He was started by a sudden noise in front of his cell. A newspaper had fallen, from where Sirius wasn’t sure. He picked it up and began to read. He noted the front page. It had a picture of a large wizarding family waving to the camera. Sirius smiled softly; the Prewett’s sister Molly (now Weasley) was staring at Sirius, as she stood next to her husband Arthur. Sirius skimmed the plethora of red headed children, noting the twins’ likeness to their uncles. Sirius moved to put the paper away when he saw one of the Weasley children struggle with something before turning to face the camera. Curious, he examined the boy closer. He was holding a rat. A sinking suspicion that had been bubbling within Sirius simmered over, as he looked even closer at the paper. His eyes narrowed – the rat was missing a finger.
I know you're somewhere out there
Somewhere far away. . .