He Does His Waiting
Sirius Black avoids happy thoughts. He avoids happy thoughts because they are the only thing he has left and no way in bloody hell is he going to let those soul-sucking leeches have them.
Sirius Black avoids happy thoughts.
He focuses on the truth instead.
The truth is heartless.
It's heartless because James is dead and Lily is dead and Harry - oh, dear Harry - is who knows where.
For a moment, a brief moment, Sirius Black thinks of Harry Potter. He thinks of Harry Potter, the baby boy he held in his hands. The baby boy who is left with a lightening-shaped scar on his forehead. The baby boy who is too young to be facing the dark forces.
The spitting image of his father, he remembers, but Lily's eyes. Yes, Lily's eyes.
Cold air washes over him and covers him in sweat, the blood in his veins stopping their flow. Sirius Black looks up to see a hooded figure approach him, and locks the memories of the baby boy in the deep corners of his mind.
They won't take Harry, either.
The truth sets him free.
Not with evidence or trials or witnesses - God forbid - but with one clean escape through the jail walls. Sirius Black knows he's free the moment his blood starts boiling as he runs on four legs through the woods and the light air caresses his fur. He barks once, twice, three times and he barks and barks and barks and his hot breath fills the air. Sirius Black barks because he remembers. He remembers and lets the memories wash over him freely - freely - as he jumps around from one foot to the other. He thinks of James and Lily and Remus and Harry and he barks and spins and lets the pictures appear all around him as the trees blur and make figures of every single happy memory he ever had.
Then Sirius Black stops spinning. He stops spinning and goes back to his human form. He then sits down on the green forrest grass that is somewhat covered in leaves and he laughs.
Sirius Black laughs because he is free.
