Disclaimer: The HP Universe was created by JK Rowling. The whole world knows that.
The weather outside was truly beautiful, not that Sirius could see. Confined in the ancient home he held nothing but contempt for, Sirius could never experience just how beautiful life was. In fact, it was much like Azkaban without the Dementors, and the last Black could feel the familiar depression sinking in without his godson around. Except now, there was Firewhiskey to help him forget, and Ogden always knew how to loosen his tongue.
By the time Remus had returned to Grimmauld Place, the state of the dining room was abysmal, and Sirius wasn't much better. The most mischievous Marauder now sat in an armchair by the fireplace, sipping slowly from a tumbler, but the empty bottles lying around the dining table suggested he had been at this for quite some time. Remus went into the kitchen to collect his own glass, filled it with Firewhiskey, and joined Sirius in companionable silence. Even after a decade, the two men slipped into the same pattern: one waiting for the other to collect and share his thoughts.
"Moony, d'ye ever think about time? Damn thing. It's like time hasn't passed at all. When you've been chucked in Azkaban, they don't let you keep watches or clocks or anything. Who knows if it's been months or just x number of years? Hell, they could keep you there for far longer than your own sentence and you wouldn't know the difference until you were out. Me, Moony? I was sentenced for life. I didn't expect to get out, so what was the point? I'm surprised they didn't just give me the kiss then.
"Somehow, after an eternity passed – sometimes feel as if it was forever or just a few months – I started to hope. I heard one of the insane prisoners howling and remembered your howls, so for old time's sake I transformed into a dog, just to remember what it felt like those nights when we would traipse through the Forbidden Forest. Then I started feeling like myself. The depression went away, and I remembered I was innocent. The dementors brought up my guilt over James and Lily's deaths, and I felt like I belonged in Azkaban. But as a dog, I felt as close to happy as I could ever be in that goddamn place, and that's how I knew I had a way out.
"I thought I discovered this quickly. Time never passed there, and there were no windows so we couldn't even count the days. I figured it had only been a year or so since James die- since Voldemort was gone, even after I got that damn prophet from Fudge. I saw Pettigrew, but I didn't think to check the date, didn't think those kids were Harry's classmates, his closest friends. My godson still had to be just a toddler, right? No older than three, surely. I could simply snatch Peter, show his dead body to the Ministry and prove my innocence and then claim Harry, raise him right, the way James and Lily would have raised their son.
"But then I was at Surrey, as I remember Lily saying her wretched sister lived there, and who else would Harry go to? I was going to find the house, catch a glimpse of little toddling Harry when I saw James. James, except for the eyes. Which meant it wasn't James, but Harry. When did that happen? Harry was still supposed to be a child, just two or three at the most. He was the bloody toddler who only knew how to say 'mummy' and 'daddy' and 'Paddy' and 'Moony' and nothing else, who still needed to catch himself on a wall occasionally so he didn't fall because he just learned how to walk and his balance wasn't all that great. When did he become a bloody teenager?
"Don't get me wrong, I was thrilled to see him. But sometimes I still get them mixed up. I still think he's James, even though I've been out for two years, because Harry shouldn't be that old, not yet. Can you believe all the time I lost in Azkaban? It screwed with my brain. If I don't think too hard about it, I forget the troubles going on right now and assume Harry is five, can't control his magic and probably just set fire to someone's clothes because it would amuse him. Time. What is time?"
Lupin let that heavy thought fill the air, punctuated with a sip from his glass had Sirius knocked back the rest of his and refilled it to the brim. That's how Sirius felt about the twelve years, and Remus knew the man was waiting for him to reciprocate with his own story about his dozens. Remus started his story slowly, saying:
"I've always had to keep track of time. Not doing so was too dangerous in my case, you know that. So after that night, god, do you remember that was a full moon? By the time I recovered, James and Lily and Peter were dead, so I thought, you were in jail, and baby Harry had suddenly become the savior of the world.
"Full moons were never quite the same again. Time was never the same again. I rarely made personal contact with anyone, didn't know how to anymore, didn't want to anymore, so it was just me. Alone. I was acutely aware that time passed. One transformation meant one month. One Christmas meant another season. One Halloween meant another year. Greyer hairs, shabbier clothes… there were physical manifestations – signs," he added, remembering that in his inebriated state Sirius wouldn't be able to comprehend his usual vocabulary. "But it just crept by.
"I had some jobs. James and Lily were generous and left enough money for me for a few months, but I couldn't simply sit idle. But I couldn't get a job, either, not with a business or school where they were obligated to check my background with the Ministry, so I became a private tutor for a number of children. Some were magical children who needed just basic education like math and reading so they would be ready for homework. Some were muggle children who needed help with their school work, but those were young. After all, we never learned the complicated muggle subjects like Calculus, some advance, abstract math. Still others were Hogwarts students who needed extra help with their summer homework. Those were the best, because they were the only times I ever heard names from the old world, as I sometimes thought of it. Dumbledore, McGonagall, Flitwick, McKinnon, Weasley, Macmillan. I never saw any of those people, Dumbledore, Weasley, McKinnon, whoever, but the students I tutored saw them all the time during the school year. Whoever the children were, from whatever background, it didn't matter. I was employed privately, and I never saw these people regularly, so they never knew of my transformations and therefore never thought to bring my name up to the Ministry. It was unsteady pay, since I was only called on as needed, but it was something. And you know how I love teaching.
"Word got back to Dumbledore about my tutoring. He needed and new Defense Against the Dark Arts professor, and here I was. And, naturally, he didn't care about my lycanthropy and no one else on the staff knew, with the exception of those who had known during our school years, so it would be a well-kept secret.
"Suddenly, I was tossed back into the Old World again, I guess I should just call it the World, that was what I was missing out on, and realized that, slowly as time passed, it did pass. It now felt like a blink of an eye, like it all slipped out of my hands. There Harry was, at thirteen. Thirteen, when he was only one in some recent past. He had friends, he went to Hogwarts. He got in trouble and played Quidditch, just like James. But he's not as mischievous and he's kinder, sometimes, like Lily. Time. Where had time gone?"
Sirius scoffed bitterly. "So here we are, over a decade later. When I stop thinking about it, Harry's supposed to be about five. And you're bedding a girl who would be the same age as you, if you really had stopped aging the same time we all felt like time stopped." He laughed at his observation, tripping over his slurred words.
"Sirius," Remus said sharply, "Don't talk about it like that. Don't talk about her like that."
"Oh, right. You're sensitive about the age thing. It's a bit like robbing the cradle, isn't it? You pretty much are. I want to be there when you break the news to Andromeda, I'm sure she'll be thrilled about it."
Sirius had enough Firewhiskey, that's for sure. Remus took the bottle away (a useless gesture, as the bottle was almost empty anyway) and ordered Sirius to bed. Sirius simply gave a bark like laugh and stumbled towards the stairs when Remus caught hold of his arm. He just managed to guide the animagus up three stories and into his room before Sirius became deadweight. Sirius collapsed on the bed, and Remus positioned him more comfortably.
He knew that Sirius meant no harm, that it was only the alcohol speaking. If he remembered the incident in the morning, he would apologize to Remus for it, or Moony as he always called the werewolf when it was only the two of them or Tonks around. Sirius was stuck in the past, trying to move on but unable to in his childhood home. Just as Remus had been unable to, until he had others show him the way forward.
He hoped somehow Sirius would find a way to move forward. Living like this would kill him.