A/N: Hey y'all! This was written for Hogwarts. Other prompts are listed below. :)

Astronomy Task 3: Write a story set on a snowy day/night

Word Count: 1333

Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter. Those rights go to JK Rowling.

Enjoy!

There were many things that Sirius Black didn't understand, and he wasn't fool enough to pretend that he did. The thing he most wished to uncover the truth of, however, was why.

Why was he suffering through someone else's punishment? Why was the world only safe when Lily and James were gone? Why was he here? Why wasn't Peter behind bars?

Sirius launched himself to his feet, seething. The Dementors took every happy emotion away, and this was one that they couldn't—anger. He wanted to feel something other than numbness, and focusing on his revenge—that was the best way to stay sane.

A cold breeze blew through the tiny window on the wall above him, making him shiver. Nights were always cold in Azkaban, but tonight, if he squinted hard enough, Sirius could just make out tiny white flakes dancing in the moonlight. So it was winter, then. His shoulders slumped. He wasn't sure exactly how much time had passed since his arrest, but this was the third winter he'd spent in prison.

Like they did every day, his thoughts drifted to Harry. By now, he'd be four years old. It haunted Sirius, the thought of the small boy—it reminded him that his actions had had negative consequences on the people he cared the most about. Sirius feared for his godson. After all, Peter was still out there.

With Harry.

Sirius stood on the tips of his toes, so he could just barely see over the edge of the window. He gripped the iron bars imbedded in it, the ice making his fingers ache. Grey eyes scanned the rocky shore in the distance, and he peered out at the horizon as though if he looked hard enough, he'd be able to see the mainland. Somewhere out there was a young boy, separated from his family, fending for himself. Sirius wondered if there was anyone to read him bedtime stories, or to clean him up after he fell. Were those green eyes still full of light, or had circumstance wiped them of even that? Did he still laugh like his father, doubled over with shaking shoulders? He didn't know, and it was killing him.

But of course, Harry Potter wasn't the only person Sirius owed an explanation to. Remus Lupin was also out there, alone, facing a world that had been turned upside down.

"Remus," he whispered into the blizzard raging on outside, "did you follow them? Or are you still out there?"

It was terrifying, not knowing Remus' fate. For all he knew, Peter could have reached him already—he was the last Marauder standing; the only one who stood a chance at discovering the truth.

It was thoughts like these that kept him up late every night. Sleep came in short bursts nowadays, and they were always laced with nightmares. He'd see Remus' amber eyes staring up blankly at a ceiling, just as James' had been; a coffin with Harry's name being lowered into the cold earth; in the worst ones, he saw their blood on his hands.

Sirius shuddered, his matted black hair swinging about his shoulders. He was a shadow of the person he'd been before, he knew. While he rotted here, getting thinner and thinner, drowning in regret over Lily and James' deaths, Peter Pettigrew—the true murderer—was running free, probably growing fat on someone else's food.

Sirius shouted in frustration and slammed his fist against the wall of his cell, ignoring the pain that shooted up his arm. He shivered in the winter wind, wishing that he could be outside in it, but it wasn't to be. He was trapped; Peter was not. Sirius was innocent; Peter was guilty.

It was easier to blame Peter than to face the part he'd played in his fate. He didn't want to think about how he'd urged the Potters to make the rat their Secret Keeper, or how he'd pushed away someone he should have trusted. His fingers were turning blue from the cold, but he only clenched the bars harder, as though if his hands hurt enough, his crimes could be reprieved. Sirius shivered violently, and though it would be more sensible to back away from the window, he remained where he stood. He could see them all in his mind's eye—James, Lily, Remus, Harry, and even Peter.

Anger filled him then, as biting as the air around him. He could still see Peter's nervous blue eyes, flicking back and forth even as he blasted the street apart. Then there was Lily's red hair, fanned out around her head, traces of tears still stuck to her face. He saw plainly James' blank face, flat on his back, his glasses broken. Harry's smiling face as he held his hands out to his godfather, begging to be picked up. Remus' face, hurt and angry, as Sirius shouted at him to leave them all alone—

He fell to the floor, shaking, and shook his head weakly. He'd give anything to see them again—to apologize. And though Remus was the only one who would be able to properly receive it, his desire to make right all the wrong he'd done overwhelmed him.

It would start with Peter.

As soon as he got out of prison, he would track the rat down and make him pay for what he'd done to Lily and James—to him. In another life, he would be enjoying the snow with Harry, toppling over every snowman the little boy built and listening to his laughter. But here, he was trapped for a crime he didn't commit, locked away with only memories and wishes for company. This idea of revenge had become an obsession for him, but he didn't care how unhealthy it was; everything seemed to dim in comparison to the wrongs against him.

"Peter," he whispered out the narrow window, "when I am free, you will be dead."

It was this promise that kept him going. He should not be here; he was innocent. He repeated like a mantra in his head, and that truth could not be stolen away by the Dementors. While he murmured it to himself, the self-loathing and depression was partially drowned out. He should not be here; he was innocent.

Screams erupted from outside his cell, jarring him from his thoughts. He ripped his hands away from the icy bars suddenly, as though he had been burned. He knew that sound; this is what the prisoners did when they felt the Dementors approaching. His hands were red and raw, but it wasn't the storm outside or its effects that had him shaking.

He quickly shifted into Padfoot, his dog form instantly warming him. It couldn't drive away all the Dementors' effects—his mind was still primarily human, after all—but the pull was much weaker than it was in his other body.

He could hear the screams much more clearly now, and winced at the piercing sound. He could hear despair, anger, and fear rolled into every note, and a wave of helplessness washed over him; how would he ever escape this place?

He gazed at the snow blowing into his cell and wished that it held the lightness and magic that it had only a few years previously. All he could see when he looked at it now was the harsh reality of the world he lived in, and the truth that people rarely get their happy endings. And Sirius was no fool; he had never expected life to be easy, and had learned from a young age that truly good people were much rarer than the greedy. He'd thought that Lily and James' light was untouchable; he'd thought that Remus had been filled with enough sorrow. And Harry… he'd believed that Harry was too perfect to hurt in such a way.

He always knew that it would snow; that their little summer would someday melt away. He thought they were all prepared for the storm, but this winter seemed eternal.

He longed to see the sun again.

A/N: Other prompts:

Writing Club:

Book Club: Dr. Sayer — (word) safe, (word) understand, (plot point) being unable to sleep, (dialogue) [Name], did you follow them?"

Showtime: 3. 666 — (word) consequence

Amber's Attic: 5. Carrie — (word) punishment

Count Your Buttons: Word — fear

Lyric Alley: What the hell am I doing here?

Sophie's Shelf: Task — (word) revenge

Emy's Emporium: (emotion) bitter

Angel's Arcade: Glacius — (weather) snowing, (emotion) fuming, (plot point) being held captive by someone, (dialogue) "When I am free, you will be dead.", (object) ice

Lo's Lowdown: Character: 9. Azazel — Alt. (word) obsession

Bex's Basement: Ghost Town, by the Specials — write about isolation

Autumn Funfair:

Bingo: 72. Screaming (2)

Gris-Gris Bag:

Character: Sirius Black