Author's Note: A short one shot that came to me and wouldn't let me sleep till it was written, but it's probably not my best work. Like most, it's Sirius/James, sort of. No warnings that I can think of, except slight slash.
"Those who danced were thought to be quite insane by those who could not hear the music." -Angela Monet.
Madness:
The first time he saw him Sirius was sure he was dreaming. He didn't feel like he was awake, because even asleep the inmates could feel the cold and despair of the dementors. It had to be a dream, because James couldn't possibly be there. Not leaning so casually against the bars of his cell like that, smiling at him. Not so tangible and real looking, no, because James wasn't alive. James was dead.
It wasn't like he'd never seen him before. Since the first night, and all the nights after that for however long he'd been in Azkaban he saw him. Always. Always recalled the way he found his body that night, still and pale and cold. So cold. He always saw that, the dementors somehow knew it was the memory that tormented him the most. The one that made him want to curl up in a ball and let himself go, lock himself in his own head like some of the other mad prisons.
No matter how hard he tried to forget the scene, how hard he tried to grasp some happy moment between him and James, he couldn't. He knew of course, that there had been happy moments. Azkaban took away you happy memories and the emotions felt by them, but it didn't take away your knowledge of them. Sometimes, when he's a dog and the effects of the dementors don't threaten to drown him, sometimes he can even recall James healthy and whole, happy and beautifully alive.
In human form he can only feel his darker emotions, the ones he's tried to suppress most of his life. Hate, hate for his so called family and the cause the stood for. For his little brother, who stupidly threw away his life. Hate for Pettigrew, a hate so deep and raw he could almost feel it burning inside him. Long buried and almost forgotten jealousy he felt for Lily, the envy he use to mask when around her and Prongs. How happy they were together. And fear, choking and mind numbing, all consuming fear. The fear that James blamed him, for his death, for Lily's death, for what had happened to their sweet little baby.
The second time he sees him, it's different. He's sitting on the cot, the old rickety and uncomfortable metal thing the ministry had provided as prisoner's beds. Most opted to sleep on the floor. James is talking to him, saying word's he can't quite make out, and Sirius just stares at him. He wants James to go away, and he wants him to stay all at the same time. James is to pure, to good, too innocent to be in a place like this. He wasn't scarred and damaged like Sirius was. James would never have done anything to deserve this place. But Sirius wants to look at him, wants to drink in the familiar features that are slowly being forgotten, needs to feel that almost sliver of happiness seeing James causes him.
Soon Sirius is becoming use to seeing him. He'll seem to wake up and there he'll be. Sometimes sitting, sometimes standing. Always smiling and talking. Sometimes Sirius will even talk back. He's getting better at it now. He thinks maybe James has become his guardian angel, to protect him. It's better than thinking he's slowly going mad.
Some aurors come once, to check on the prison. Sirius use to work with some of them in the Order, and he know's he's never seen more hate on their faces then when they actually see him in his cell. It doesn't bother him, he's long since past caring about the hate of people that have forsaken so many. James is there, but none of them acknowledge him.
"Who are you talking to Black," one of the women ask. He can't remember her name, but he believes he use to know her.
"James," he answers in complete honesty. He ignores the disbelief in her eyes, and looks away from the group, willing them to leave him and James alone to some peace without the dementors for once.
James disappears for a while shortly. Sirius has been spending more time as a dog, trying to escape the effects of the dementors. He spends as much time as he can as a dog, the only thoughts running through his mind during those times are of his innocence. But some days he has to be a man, the days when aurors and ministry officials come to Azkaban.
After spending so long with canine emotions, the return of his human ones are overwhelming. His throat constricts and it feels like a weight has been put on his chest. Hot tears prick and leak from his eyes and he just wants to bury his head in his hands and escape.
That's when he feels it. James is there again, and Merlin how he's missed seeing him. He's looking at him softly, and it seems like he's holding him, running his hands through long and lank black hair. Sirius wants to tell James not to touch him, that he's filthy and James is to clean, but he doesn't. Just stares and takes in the comfort. They've never touched before, not in the cell, never been this close.
James is kissing him now. Soft, full lips are moving over his. Lips he's never felt before, but knows he's always wanted to, and why isn't he responding. He starts to, and can almost imagine that he can taste James. A faint taste of that coffee he was always drinking, and whiskey, and something that fit just him. He's closed his eyes during this, and when he opens them again, James is gone.
"Mr. Black," there was a man at his door. He's pudgy and short, with a ridiculous bowler hat on his head. Standing in important robes of an aqua seeming color, he's sneering at him in disdain. There's a newspaper in his hand. Sirius figures what the hell, maybe next time James comes they'll have something to door.
"Hello Minister," he replies, amazing he can recall who he is, "How are you?" No need not to be polite after all. The minister is blinking at him, and Sirius has his first amusing thought in a while that the man resembled a fish.
"Can I have your newspaper? I miss doing the crossword," he says, pointing with one thin, bony finger at it. A lie, he never liked doing the crosswords. Remus use to love them though, and isn't it sad how he hasn't thought of Remus in a long while. Hasn't thought of anyone, not Remus or Lily or Harry. Just James.
The minister's mouth is gaping open, "Wha…how…um, here." The newspaper is tossed into the cell like poison and then the minister and his guard are hurrying away. Sirius shrugs and picks it up, intending to save it for later. When he sees James again. Seeing him makes Sirius feel almost whole.
James is back soon. It doesn't even feel like minutes and he's there again, smiling, and there's that cute dimple in his cheek that Sirius always thought was adorable. Sirius holds up the newspaper and James nods in agreement.
Sirius flips through the pages, and James hand is on top of his, helping. They haven't stopped on any page yet, it seems like their waiting. Waiting for what, Sirius doesn't know yet. The James' hand stops, the second his does, and Sirius sees it. Sees Pettigrew. A rat, and alive. He's sitting on some boys shoulder.
Rage and hate like he's never know is searing through his veins and he has to resist tearing the newspaper into little pieces. He wants to scream, but his voice is to hoarse from disuse to make the proper sound. He scans the article as quick as he can, stumbling over some words because it's been a long time since he's read. By the time he's done, a new obsession has taken over his mind, and when he looks over, James is gone again.