Summary: Sirius Black contemplates his fate as he explores his new surroundings after he falls behind the veil. Short story. Oneshot.

Disclaimer: The Harry Potter universe is not of my own design. I am merely borrowing it, and I assure you, no money is being made out of this.

Silence

Silence. Deafening silence.

It felt as if time itself had slowed down for him, allowing him a distinct awareness of everything around him as his body lost its balance and began to fall—waiting for the imminent impact of his back against the cold, hard floor. Strange. There was absolutely nothing around him. He knew his eyes were wide open, but all he could see was infinite darkness. He strained his ears, listening for any sound—any sound at all.

Nothing.

He felt himself crash onto the ground, and the silence was broken by a loud, hollow clank as his wand fell and clattered on the floor. Alerted by the fact that he was now unarmed, he quickly got on all fours and scrambled in all directions in search of his wand. After a few panicked breaths, he felt his hand enclose on a familiar length of wood, and he let out a sigh of relief.

Where am I?

He blinked his eyes several times and swiveled his head in all directions. It was stupid to feel suffocated at this point when he knew in his gut that a large expanse of nothing surrounded him. And yet his breaths became shorter and shorter. He had never felt such fear before.

What happened? What am I doing here?

He racked his brain and forced himself to think rationally. Just five minutes ago, he was dueling with Lestrange. And then he remembered a curse. Which curse could it be? Cruciatus? Probably. It seemed to be Lestrange's favorite. She preferred torturing to killing, anyway, or else the Longbottoms would be dead by now rather than insane. Was that it then? Was he hit by the curse? Had he gone insane as well?

No. I remember dodging it.

Or did he? Merlin, he was going insane!

In any case, he had no idea where he was now. What kind of dueler was he if he couldn't even remember—

"The veil," he murmured. I'm behind the bloody curtains, whatever that means.

"Am I dead?" he asked aloud. No one answered, however.

He sighed and lifted his wand. "Lumos."

The tip of his wand glowed. Under normal circumstances, it would've been enough to light a small room. This time however, the light only confirmed what he had feared—he was in no small room, for sure. Wherever he was, it was very big, and he was very much alone. The cold stone floor stretched endlessly before him in all directions. When he raised his wand above his head, he could not see a ceiling, and since there were no pillars around him, he had no reason to believe that there was even a roof at all.

He sighed again. Was he dead? He never imagined that death would be so lonely. He always imagined there would be people waiting for him to greet him. Lily and James and—

Harry!

He had only thought about it now, but if he was dead, how would Harry be feeling at this moment? Admittedly, when James died, he had secretly been in denial for a very long time, believing that his best friend had only gone into hiding. Was Harry thinking the same thing? Was he, at this very minute, hoping against hope that his godfather would come back? His heart ached at the thought. The last thing his godson needed right now was more pain.

Pain?

Surely if he were dead then he wouldn't be able to feel pain! His pulse quickened in excitement at the new thought, but he soon managed to contain it and brace himself for disappointment anyway. Sucking in his breath, he aimed his wand at his left index finger and let a white, lightning-like spark zap from the tip of his wand to the tip of his finger. His reaction was instantaneous.

"Shit!" he muttered under his breath, sucking on his fingertip. The pain was there all right, but that still wasn't enough proof, though. There could be a hundred explanations for that.

I could be dead or insane right now, but I will never know, will I? I can convince myself completely of my sanity, but there's no one around to tell me otherwise. Even if there were, who's to say that I didn't just conjure him/her in my head? What if I really am dead and my consciousness is just refusing to accept the fact? What if I'm insane and I've just made myself a new reality?

Or worse… What if I'm alive and well, but I'm stuck here forever, and everyone else thinks I'm dead?

He shuddered at his thoughts. Slowly, he sat down on the cold floor and hugged himself.

Where am I?

-o-o-o-o-o-

He awoke to the sound of his own stomach grumbling. Prying his eyes open, he was disappointed to see (or not because it was pitch black) that he was still in the same, dark place. He lay for a while on his back, contemplating the thought of either pulling an Avada Kedavra on himself or starving himself to death.

He shook his head. He hadn't even tried getting out, and, already, he was thinking of suicide! Shame on him.

He sighed and tried to muster enough concentration to conjure a decent meal. A faint popping sound told him that food (or at least something) had materialized before him. Lighting his wand, he glanced at the set-up before him and was delighted to see some delicious-looking chicken and bread rolls. Wasting no more time, he happily proceeded to eating.

Three hours later (at least by his estimation), while on an, as yet, fruitless exploration of the strange place, he was once again very much hungry and very much exhausted. The previous meal was a disaster! While the food looked impeccable, the taste was anything but. In fact, everything tasted like parchment!

Note to self: Invent flavored parchment, so that next time my food tastes like parchment, I won't be complaining.

He conjured a tall glass and muttered "Aguamenti" to fill it with water. After casting a purification spell and a cooling charm, he downed the water in three gulps. The taste made him grimace. Even that tasted awful, and it did nothing to quench his thirst.

He rolled his eyes and momentarily weighed the pros and cons of transfiguring himself into a dog. He had been walking for hours, and so far, he wasn't even aware if he had moved at all. Great. I'm tired and thirsty and hungry. This is going to be a looooong walk, he thought to himself. With a sigh, he raised his wand and brought the tip to his forehead.

"I wish I'd just been a camel," he muttered before completely transforming into Padfoot.

-o-o-o-o-o-

He had long lost track of time in this mysteriously empty place. He was tired. Too tired. Yes, he had escaped Azkaban before, but this time was different. This time, he was too filled with doubt; there were just so many things he wasn't sure of. Was there even any escape from this place? Was he even really alive?

He staggered and tripped and stumbled in exhaustion. The magic that had kept him as a dog for who knows how long finally faltered, transforming him back into a pathetic human down on all fours.

He panted and tried to push himself up, but his knees buckled from the weight and soon gave way. A soft thud followed by a hollow, clattering sound echoed through the empty place.

What a pathetic end.

And Sirius Black closed his eyes.

A/N: This is obviously set right after Sirius falls behind the stupid veil. Although there is not much to review, all kinds of reviews are still appreciated. Flames not included. Thanks for reading!