Disclaimer - I own nothing you recognise.
Written for;
Camp Potter - History Appreciation Week 2 - Sirius Black
Theme Challenge - 4;2 - Someone regretting a past choice.
Hunger Games - Hope.
Drip. Drip. Drip.
Drip. Drip. Drip.
How long has he been here? He doesn't know. It's been a long time, he knows that. A year? Two years? Ten years? Time passes differently here. He tried marking it for a while, first by meals, then by the moonlight, but it didn't take long to loose track.
Drip. Drip. Drip.
He wonders what's happening outside the little world of Azkaban. Is Moony okay? Has he managed, month to month, without his friends there to help him through the full moon? Has he managed to get a job, to feed himself? Has he made new friends?
Has he already forgotten the stolen kisses and passionate nights they shared?
Has he forgotten the love between them?
Has he forgotten Sirius?
Drip. Drip. Drip.
And what about little Harry? Is he still a bouncing baby, or has he grown up? Does he love quidditch, or is he a bookworm? Is he serious like Lil's, or a mini Marauder, already pranking the masses?
Does he remember his godfather? Does he remember nights out on the motorbike and rides on Padfoot's back?
Is he still the image of James, or has he grown into a little Lily?
Do his eyes still shine brightly with happiness?
Is he happy without - No. He cannot think about them.
Drip. Drip. Drip.
Why did he have to make such a mess of the whole thing? He's fully aware that he's to blame for James - NO. He knows it's all his fault. He should never have changed, should never have even given the idea to switch, but he thought.
Well. He thought he knew a lot back then. He's more used to being clueless now, but it still stings.
Why did he have to react so hastily? He could be in a house, no, he could be in a home with Moony and little Harry. He could have told Harry all about what they got up to at school, he could have helped the little rascal hide away from Moony when he was being particularly responsible, he could have -
There are a lot of things he could have done differently.
Better.
Drip. Drip. Drip.
He's lost all hope of ever getting out of this hell.
The terrible food. The never ending dripping of water from the walls. The Dementors. The cold. The screaming and the crying.
He's never going to be free.
But he can dream.
Drip. Drip. Drip.
It's getting colder.
Drip. Drip. Drip.
The house is in front of him... blasted apart... broken... Hagrid... Harry... His life is in smithereens.
The Rat.
Drip. Drip. Drip.
He'll have to concentrate better next time. He didn't make the transformation fast enough, the Dementors got the jump on him. He'll be faster. Padfoot deals with them better.
Drip. Drip. Drip.
Minister Fudge. Waffling old windbag. Prophet. Weasleys.
Drip. Drip. Drip.
The Rat.
Drip. Drip. Drip.
Freedom.
He'll do better this time. He'll save his godson.
It's time to live his dreams and be better.