Why do I like starting stuff with nightmares?
This one just felt logical. I mean, if you'd spent twelve years in Azkaban, you'd be unable to sleep for some time. It's set sometime in Order of the Phoenix, when Harry's staying over at 12 Grimmauld Place.
Disclaimer: I do not own anything except my pine wand and Golden Snitch. None of the Harry Potter franchise belongs to me and I am not affiliated with J. K. Rowling or Warner Bros.
Sirius was just dozing off at the table when Molly finally wrapped up the chatter. He looked up, hoping he could get some sleep soon.
Everyone else seemed to be falling asleep, too. He grinned. Molly could go on for hours about nearly anything. Looking around, he saw them; Fred and George, faces pressed against the table, pretending to snore in order to silence their long-winded mother; Arthur, leaning back in his chair, hands behind his head, snoring for real; Tonks, leaning on Remus, both of them fast asleep; Harry, head buried in folded arms on the table; Ron, his face in the remnants of a bowl of soup, bubbling softly; Hermione, propping up her head on one hand, about to fall off her chair; even Snape's serpentine eyes were starting to ease themselves shut.
Dumbledore snorted, sat up, and blinked a few times. "Well, er, thank you, Molly. That was... informative. However, I see that some of our friends," he looked directly at Ron, "seem to be in need of some rest."
"Ah, yes, of course- Ron! Get your face out of your bowl, this instant!"
Ron jerked awake. "Whazzamatter," he mumbled, amongst the raucous cheers and uncontrolled laughing of the twins. "Oh, go away."
Only Harry, Hermione, Remus, and the Weasleys stayed over. Nobody bothered to see the rest out the door. When everyone had made their way up the stairs, Sirius turned out the lights and trudged to his room.
As soon as his head hit the pillow, he heard the distant echoes of shuffling footsteps. He opened his eyes, wondering if Harry'd had one of those dreams again.
He was shocked to find himself in a stone cell.
He leapt off of the cold floor, suddenly recognizing his all-too-familiar surroundings. Distant screams echoed off the walls, grim firelight crackled in the torches, and black cloaks swished freely about as the hissing, raspy breath of the inmates grew more constricted as the Dementors drew nearer.
He slumped against the back wall, wondering what had happened. Had he been recaptured by the Ministry? Was Harry alright? Had his freedom been only a dream in the first place?
Then, he felt it. The draining coldness seeping into every crevice of the already chilly stone cell. The horrible, sucking feeling of everything being drained out of him except fear, regret, sadness. He grasped desperately for something good in the back of his mind, something he knew was there, just out of reach.
The chill abated somewhat, long enough for him to realize that he'd fallen into the corner, arms raised defensively. He felt the sweat trickling behind his ear, down to his shoulders. He could hear each heartbeat, feel each ragged breath in his lungs, struggling to continue.
The wave of terror swept through him again. He shrank as far into the corner as he possibly could, shutting his eyes, protecting the back of his head (though he knew it wouldn't do any good). What was that thought, the thing he'd held onto before? Where had it gone? Had it disappeared? He screamed. He could feel the cold breath on the back of his neck, pulsing, waiting. Gingerly, slowly, he looked up into the hood of a Dementor. It reached up with its yellowed hands, grasped the tattered black fabric around its head, and began to pull it back.
"No, this can't really be happening, there's no way they've cleared-" The words stuck in the back of his throat. The hood was almost off.
"NO!" Shutting his eyes tightly, he just wanted it to be over.
Then, he felt a hand on his head. He jerked awake, panting, wide-eyed, panicked.
"S-Sirius?" Harry ventured shakily.
Sirius looked wildly around him. There were no stone walls, no torchlight, no hooded figures - only the moon shining through the open window. He tore out of bed, flying to the glass pane. Closing his eyes, he felt the night air surrounding him, heard the crickets chirping.
"Sirius," said Harry, somewhat stronger this time. "You okay?"
He opened his eyes again, watching the half moon and stars for a second or two, before replying. "Harry, you should be in bed."
When he turned around, Ron and Hermione were standing behind Harry. "You three should be asleep right now. What's going on?"
They looked at him, eyes wide.
"What happened?" he pressed.
Ron spoke up. "Well, it's bloody hard to sleep when there's someone yelling about Dementors and kisses across the hall."
"... Ah."
"Are you okay?" Harry asked.
"Er... yeah, fine. Just had a weird dream. I'm fine. Go on, back to bed, you guys."
Ron and Hermione complied, but Harry stuck around. "Was it..."
Sirius sighed. "Yes, Harry, it was Azkaban again. You know how things like that can affect your sleep."
"Yeah."
They stood in silence for a minute. Harry was about to say something when Remus burst in.
"Sirius, I heard you scream, what's happened? What's wrong?"
"Relax, Remus, just a bad dream."
Remus stared at him. "You're loud, you know. Heard you downstairs. You should-"
"I should what?" he snapped. "Go to St. Mungo's? Take Muggle sleeping pills? Get a girlfriend? What exactly should I do? You tell me, Remus, because I'm sick of not sleeping!"
"Er-"
"Honestly, it'd be nice to have an answer to all this! And it'd be great if people would stop worrying about me and running in here in the middle of the night, asking me incessantly if I'm alright!"
"Sirius, you-"
"I'M FINE!" he bellowed, noting the shock on Molly's face as she, too, entered the room. "Oh for...for Godric's sake..." He leaned against the wall.
Remus quietly, slowly left the room. Harry followed, and so did Molly, leaving Sirius alone with his thoughts.
He checked his memories, making sure he could still find the happy ones. Marauder days, James' and Lily's wedding, nearly catching Peter, his first taste of freedom (and firewhisky) after twelve years in hell, meeting Harry again (how eager he was to come live with him), flying away on Buckbeak, seeing the look on Snivellus' face, having the Order around, and Molly's cooking. Yes, they were all there.
"It's all a dream. Just relax," he told himself, breathing deeply, heart still racing.
That's the end of the chapter. Tell me what you think; suggestions and comments are always welcome! Flames will be used to fill my fireplace.