A/N R&R please.
Disclaimer: I don't own the characters they are the property of J.K. Rowling, and further the information on 'Padfoots' comes from Harry Potter Lexicon. I own absolutely nothing.
Sirius Black had spent a lifetime running. He had lived a life based on escape, a life of running, of being fast. He had to be if he were to survive in the cold world he'd been thrown into. Sirius could remember Remus telling him that he should slow down; take time to smell the roses and other such things. He had told him that one day he could wake up and wonder where the time had gone. But Sirius had simply laughed and said he would know exactly where the time went, commenting that who needed to smell the roses when they could race from day to day. Remus had frowned at this and asked him why it was he wanted to rush through life. Sirius had paused when he said this and stared off into space for the briefest of moments wondering why he had spent his life running away in this manner.
He was a Gryffindor, for Merlin's sake, and he should stand up and face what life threw at him. But he often supposed that he couldn't completely get rid of the Slytherin in him that sought to survive over all else. The most important things in his family had been purity and survival, however in the Most Noble and Ancient House of Black if you weren't a pureblood you shouldn't live. To his family Sirius was almost as bad as a muggle-born or mud-blood as they dubbed them. He didn't care about purity of blood, or societal status. And as a result he had to make sure to stay out of the way. He'd spent a lifetime running. Finally he had turned back to his friend his face belaying no emotion before saying to him softly 'Because I'm a Black' and then he had smiled and turned toward James launching into an explanation of an idea he had come up with for a prank.
When he was ten months old Sirius Black learned to run. He skipped walking and went straight to run, he had reason to run, at ten months old his parents already hated him and he had to be quick on his feet. If he got in the way they would scream at him and to Sirius' young mind this was the worst thing they could do to him. Later he'd know he was wrong, but at ten months old he simply knew he needed to stay out of the way. And stay out of the way he did.
When Sirius Orion Black turned two years old his life changed forever. His little brother Regulas was born. And just like that there was no reason for him anymore, before his parents would occasionally offer him some attention, but now he was nothing. Now he was a badly behaved toddler whom they were sorry had ever been born. Forever engrained in his memory would be when he had accidentally made the baby cry by knocking into the umbrella stand. His mother had turned purple screaming that he was a disgrace, that he was a waste of flesh. Sirius ran, he ran, ran from the house and hid in the hollowed trunk of a large oak tree in the Black front yard. He remembered crying, he remembered thinking he was a bad boy, that everything was his fault.
As he grew up he learned that being fast was vital to his survival. As long as he could move fast enough to get out of the room before one of his relatives entered he might make it through the night without incident. And so he ran. As the years went by he became better at his art he could slip through rooms so quietly and so quickly that no one could ever spot him. Sirius often supposed that this was probably made him such an asset to the Marauders. James was the planner, Remus was the controller who made sure they stayed on task, Peter was the distraction who drew the professors away from the scene, and Sirius was the instigator; he put the plan into motion he could slip in and out of any classroom before anyone noticed he wasn't wherever he was supposed to be. When his animagus turned out to be a dog no one was surprised, especially as his form was dark, fast, and loyal. His grim-like form was perfect for slinking in alleyways and four legs made for fast running. Dogs were infamously loyal to those they loved and often threatening to those who sought to hurt their loved ones.
Even his nickname 'Padfoot' was not simply a matter of his status as a dog animagus, his particular breed of dog matched that of a fabled type of dog called 'a Padfoot' which were thought to guard graveyards in England, Padfoots are described as being larger then average dogs and are known to have the ability to disappear in an instant, as well as a pension for being swift runners. Sirius was born with a destiny, or rather a manner in which he would behave. And among these mannerisms was his ability to escape, to vanish. He would need this ability if he were to stay alive as well as keep his friends alive. Later he would wish that he had stayed the secret keeper, Sirius knew that he would never have betrayed his friends, no matter what he wouldn't have, and he also knew that Voldemort would never have been able to locate him if he went into hiding. He could have protected them, but in those final confused days he was certain that Peter was the safest option to keep Lily and James alive. He made a mistake and he was sorry. More then anything he wanted to turn back time and rescue his friends.
During Harry's third year when he escaped Azkaban and was on the run he faced no difficulties. Ministry workers and Dementors flooded the streets but no one spotted him sometimes he even ventured from the safety of being the grim like apparition and slunk through alleyways as the shadow of himself he had become. No one saw him, no one noticed, and Sirius was glad for it he had only one goal in mind; catch Peter make him pay for his betrayal of James and Lily Potter two of the best people Sirius had ever known, would ever know; and so Sirius had run from his watery prison wanting nothing more then to right the wrong that had occurred.
He'd spent his life running; always running. He had never been one for standing still but he always found it silly that he spent so much of his time running away; from reality, from his family, from life. It only seemed fitting that when he died he would die on the run. Sirius Black was born running. He spent his life running from his parents, from professors, from prison, from death. But you can only run for so long before the world catches up. And try as he might not even Sirius Black could outrun death. He sure as hell tried but in the end it caught up to him.
Looking back he sometimes wondered if maybe he should have listened to Remus all those years ago. Maybe if he had he wouldn't have ended up where he did. But upon thinking it over Sirius knew he really didn't regret it. In truth he loved to run, it set him free if only for a few moments he was finally free to be what he wanted, do what he wanted. He was not just the hated heir of the house of Black, he was himself, for a few moments he was who he wanted to be. Sirius Black had spent a lifetime running.
A/N Review!