I'm new to this, be gentle!

I hate the thought of Sirius being in Azkaban for twelve years, so I wondered what would happen if he got out after one, and how his and Remus' relationship would continue. I'm going to alternate P.O.V in each chapter to address this. Sorry if some of the details are wrong.

1. Sirius

An urge to fight the men flickers at the back of his mind, but they are either side of him, bigger than him, and chains bind his wrists to theirs.

Neither man has spoken to him except to tell him he's scum. They had first muttered it when they arrived in his cell and punched him in the stomach. They had roughly yanked him off the floor, bound him to themselves, and dragged him down a maze of dim corridors. Every time he stumbled he earned another punch.

They didn't say why they fetched him, and he didn't think to ask. While they were still in the confines of the prison his thoughts were overwhelmed by misery and memories, crashing together, drowning him. Then they were outside, and he was being hit by the fresh air, forced to take deep shuddering breaths. His chest throbbed, but with each desperate gasp he recalled another memory. Laughing as he wrestled James, little Harry gurgling as he grinned up at the pair of them, Remus smiling at him, holding him at the waist, and... James dead, Lily dead, Harry alone, Remus... The conflicting thoughts were as painful as the air hitting his system, and with a directional pull from his left he stumbled and fell into the boat. His arms were stolen by the men, and unable to protect his head it sharply hit the side.

When he awoke he realised they were nearing land. The two men climbed out the boat first, and he was unwillingly dragged after them by the chains, his knees scraping painfully against the ground. He wriggled his legs, willing the soles of his feet to connect with land so he regain balance, but the men were too fast and he couldn't manage. Just when he thought his knees couldn't take any more cuts and his arms felt like they would finally break free from their sockets, the men stopped. Hastily he climbed to his feet, disgusted by the weakness of his legs.

"On three," one of the men had said, and they counted. With a tight sensation and a sickening lurch of his stomach the whole world went black. When he regained sight he found he was on the floor again, this time inside and surrounded by men and women wearing long robes and stern faces.

"Sirius Black," a voice says

He looks up and sees a wizard staring down at him with a mix of disgust and fear on his face.

The man smoothes his robes. "You are here today for a belated trial. Believe me when I say I regret this," he continues, his voice cold and sneering "the waste of resources spent on bringing you here, that is. Rest assured you'll soon be back in Azkaban, and no-one will doubt your guilt." With that he turns his back, and leads the party of witches and wizards into the courtroom.

Sirius, becoming accustomed to the variety of thought in his head, looks around and recognises where they were. The stone walls lit dimly by lanterns give it away. The Ministry. A trial. His stomach leaps with relief. He finds the courage to struggle to his feet, glad that despite the looming blackness he can still balance. The captors on his either side force him to move as they take two large steps towards the door, except in his case it's five. He dimly realises that he too is tall, and remembers how he used to stride around the school with only James standing a chance of keeping up, while Remus happily lingered behind and Peter trotted along as fast as he could.

He wonders what the court are going to do to him, what he can say to make them believe he's innocent. Why's he allowed a fair trial now? What's changed? The doors in front of him are pulled open from the inside, and an elbow in his ribs signals him to move. Around him he hears disapproving mutters, jeers and insults echo around the room. It's alarming after the deadly silence he's used to. He focuses on putting one foot in front of the other, and attempts to block out the noise. If he fell now would that be his chance over? He is thrown onto a large stone chair, and one by one the chains that bind him reattach themselves to the arms of the chair, freeing his captors of their burden. The seat is large, and he is lost in the middle. The chains are tight and hold him uncomfortably in place.

A familiar cough stands out from the blur of noise. Sirius looks up and finds his eyes drawn towards some plum robes that look alarming among the sea of black. Dumbledore. The owner of the robes smiles at him, another unique quality. It's a smile that says I believe you and Sirius is bathed in gratitude. He finds strength in the wizard's eyes, and doesn't look away until even when the interrogator begins.

Sirius tries to listen, but the beat of his heart drowns out the words, and he is therefore alarmed when a young witch approaches him, firmly wrenches his jaw apart and pours in three drops of a cold, minty liquid. He chokes but swallows the mixture, focusing on the encouraging smile of the plum wizard. His head becomes lighter, almost unattached from his aching body, and clearer, no longer forced to listen to those destroying thoughts. He sees the interrogator turn towards him.

"Name."

"Sirius Black," he says automatically. His throat hurts, unaccustomed to speaking after twelve long months of silence, but his voice is clear, the Veritaserum taking affect.

"On the night of 31st October last year, where were you?"

"I began the night by visiting Peter Pettigrew." Again he is surprised by the calmness of his voice. "I wanted to check he was okay."

"Your reasons for that?"

"I knew that Peter had been made Secret Keeper for James and Lily Potter." He hears a murmur go round the room, but continues. "It was meant to be me, but I backed out at last minute. It was too obvious for it to be me; James was my best friend. I was scared."

The interrogator doesn't seem perturbed by Sirius's admission, and his eyes keep glaring at him. "And what did you find when you got to Pettigrew's?"

"He had gone. At first I worried that they'd got him, but it was too tidy and I could tell there had been no struggle. I was suspicious but I didn't know then – not for sure. I went to James'." He pauses, the images of what he saw flashing in his mind. He doesn't want to relieve the moment let alone recount the story before the court, but the potion acts otherwise. "I saw James first. His body..." his eyes prickle. "His body was on the floor. I knew he was dead from looking at him, but I checked for a pulse anyway, and there wasn't one. Further into the house I saw Lily in front of Harry's cot. I... I wanted to run out of there, but I couldn't move. I just sat and stared at them... at James."

"Go on."

"I knew somebody had betrayed them, and only one person aside from me knew their whereabouts. Peter. I was angry; angry at myself for not agreeing to remain Secret Keeper but furious at him. We had sworn we'd always protect each other, but he... I wanted to kill him."

"And did you?"

Sirius notices the interrogator is beginning to sound confident in his accusations again, and continues at a pace, the influence of Veritaserum preventing him from tripping over his words. "I left the house, saw Hagrid on the way out, and headed for Peter. It was a crowded street but I didn't care. I wanted to make him realise what he had done. I wanted to make him pay for it. We saw each other at the same time, and I ran at him, shouting, calling him a traitor. We both had our wands out, and I wanted to kill him. He beat me to it. Just before I had a chance to curse him he shouted the words. He used Avada Kadavra. I saw him... I saw him strike a finger off his own hand and transform into a rat. Not only had he been the spy, he'd set me up. After all our time at Hogwarts with me believing he was stupid, he managed that. He outwitted me and I laughed. I actually laughed. Then I looked around me and all the muggles were on the floor. Dead."

The courtroom is silent. Sirius looks to the interrogator for the next question, and sees the wizard looking lost. He wonders if he should say more, and opens his mouth aimlessly. With a minor disturbance in the courtyard the plum robes stands up. Dumbledore looks at him and he gazes back helplessly.

"Well," Dumbledore says, "Sirius has verified his story. Is there anything further you should like to ask?"

The interrogator dumbly shakes his head. "Dismissed."

Sirius feels a click rather than hears it, and watches as the tight chains around his wrists release him and dissolve into thin air. He watches as the courtroom empties in haste, leaving only him and Dumbledore.

As Dumbledore reaches his side, all he can do is gape up into his eyes and whisper his question. "Free?"

"Free," Dumbledore confirms. "Congratulations."

Sirius gasps. Still in the stone chair, he leans forwards, placing his head in his hands.

"Perhaps we should move," Dumbledore suggests, with a slight hint of amusement. "For one, despite the renowned properties of Veritaserum I think many members of this court have rather prejudiced views, and I would rather avoid confrontation. And two, I know a certain young man is awaiting your return.'

Sirius looks up, and sees Dumbledore smiling at him again, offering him something. His wand. He takes it, and smiles in return. The expression feels stiff but easier than speaking.

"Can you stand?"

Sirius forces himself to his feet, reluctantly taking Dumbledore's arm in support.

"I think side-along is preferable today. Hold tight."

Again the sickening sensation tugs in the darkness. Again he feels his legs give way, but this time a supporting hand tightens around his waist. It is dark now, and Sirius wonders how long they were in the court. Funny thing, time. Through the glow of the street lights he recognises where they are.

"I shan't come in, I think, but will be round in a day's time." Dumbledore says, gently leading him towards the door. "There are some matters we need to discuss, I'm sure you'll agree, but for now you should rest." He pauses. "Goodbye for now, Sirius, and congratulations once again."

The grip around him vanishes, and he is left with no choice but to enter. He pushes the door open. His home is familiar, warm and sweet smelling. He stumbles over the doormat just as Remus reaches the bottom of the stairs.

"Sirius."

He feels his body go limp, but instead of hitting the floor he is caught between two strong arms. His hands desperately grab at the woollen cardigan, and he buries his head into the other man's neck. He feels hands on his back, his hair, and it's too much. Too much after all those terrible thoughts, first in there and then outside, the realisation that some of it was true. And then the fact that someone is there, someone cares after everything. His eyes prickle, and he only fights it for a few seconds. The cold tears trickle down his face. His shoulders heave, and he can feel he is no longer alone.