Hello fellow Potter fans. This story came to me in dream form and I just can't get it out of my head (not that I want to). It's a bit sad, in a bittersweet way, since it stars Sirius, Lupin, and Harry. Trigger warning for a suicide attempt.

Like a Bad Dream

Setting: Number 12 Grimmauld Place, 1996

Part 2:

Sirius Black would never have pegged himself as the suicidal type.

He made it through 12 years in Azkaban, literally the worst place on Earth, fueled mostly by hate and a dog's simpler emotions. One would think being back at his mother's house, having access to all the people he cared about—or at least those of them who were still alive, and at least some of the time—would seem like a vacation, paradise, in comparison. Thing was, it was still a prison. He had never truly escaped.

He thought he would be happier without all the dementors around though—and really, he would swear that he had been for a couple years. Surely there were a few bright memories that shine through the fog—but for the most part lately he felt like there was always a dementor hovering over his shoulder, ready to suck any of life's joys away nearly immediately after they come to him.

Take Christmas for example. It really was a good holiday—he had to be fair. Looking at it rationally it was wonderful, beyond wonderful to have Harry and Remus and all the rest of the Order and their kids around. Hosting was fun, but the best thing was being surrounded by all that busy, loud, laughing mass of people who all cared about each other…and him.

But still, overshadowing it all, sucking away all that fun and joy and life like one of his old hooded pals was the knowledge that they were all going to leave, leaving him alone except for the occasional visit from Snivellus or Dung or some well-meaning but utterly condescending Order member or another.

He knew, he knew this wasn't forever. The war wasn't going to go on forever. Either he was going to go down fighting gloriously to defend Harry and Dumbledore and the whole damn world or they were going to win. As soon as they won they would have proof that he was an innocent man and he would get a pardon. He could raise Harry like the godfather he deserved, for however many years were left after the war before he was a man. Well, he was already turning into a man, but still, 15 year-olds could use family support, which Harry was sorely lacking from those muggles and—if he was being honest—from his own godfather. The point was, within the next few years he would have freedom or he would be dead, and either would be worlds better than where he was now, if he could just get through it.

How weak did he have to be to not be able to get through it? Or just wait till Voldemort took care of it for him? What a drag on the people around him he must be… He knew he was, really—they tried to hide it, well except for Snivellus and Kreacher, not that their opinions mattered to him at all—but he cared immensely how it was affecting the rest of them. Especially Harry and Remus …

He tried to resist the dark, dragging sensation. Tried to reason with himself that Remus and Harry, in particular, loved him and would be devastated if he was dead. He knew they would grieve terribly, and be justified, since neither of them had any other family to speak of…but he just couldn't shake the assertion that even with that, they would be better off without him. He fought the feelings since the Christmas holidays ended, but with Remus and Harry's visit he let his guard down, so happy to be in their company again, that when they left for that errand and it hit him that soon they would both be leaving again for good—well, at least the rest of the school year, maybe longer—the feeling came roaring back, this time with little reserve left to fight it off.

He had been thinking about how he'd do it for some time. Not—not a plan exactly, he tried to tell himself, except what else you could call it he wasn't sure. Easy enough with magic to fly yourself up to the ceiling, tie a rope there, tie it here, drop your wand so you couldn't change your mind, and just let go.

So…that's what he did.

He regretted it almost instantly.

Dropping the wand had been stupid. An evil suggestion from the dark thoughts within the dense, dark fog. As the noose tightened and he twisted against it, trying to reach for the wand and accio it into his own hand—was that even possible?—that dark fog lifted for the first time since seeing Harry and the others off on the Hogwarts Express, leaving him clearheaded and full of fear, fear and sadness—not the ego-focused sadness that had come with the depression, no, sadness for those he was leaving behind, and fear that Harry was the one that was going to find him hanging there, dead, and that it was going to seriously mess him up.

How could it not?

So Sirius struggled, struggled to support his weight with his hands on the rope swinging above him instead of his neck, struggled to get out of the noose, struggled to get his wand…struggled to stay conscious for as long as it took to do any of those things.

But he couldn't do it…not any of it…and his limbs were getting heavier and heavier. His vision was darkening around the edges and his lungs were on fire but still he struggled, fruitlessly. No one could say Sirius Black went down without a fight.

Except they could, and they would.

How would they know he came to his senses in time if it turns out it wasn't in time? What did it even matter if he did the deed in the first place? God, what an idiot. He should have told someone how he'd been feeling. Remus would have stayed by his side night and day, would have gotten him help.

Dammit…poor Remus. I'm so sorry.

His last thoughts as the world around him faded were of them, Remus and Harry. He could almost hear their voices, as if from very far away.

"Sirius?"

Almost…almost like…they were calling to him, calling for him.

"Sirius?!"

And then he went cold, and he realized that they were. They had gotten home, and were calling for him. He couldn't feel much anymore except the pain in his lungs, and even that was fading as he faded, but he struggled to remain conscious, struggled one more time to get his hands up to the noose…he had to loosen it enough to call to them…let them know where he was…tell them he was sorry…

Tears welled up and spilled over as he realized with what was left of his fading mind that he couldn't, as much as he wanted to, he couldn't hold on for them…

"Sirius!?"

His numb, weighted hands fell to his sides and he settled further down into the noose as his lungs finally gave in to the inevitable and he ceased breathing, heart first frantically beating and limbs twitching in one final effort to free his body of whatever was choking it, and then settling into stillness and finally stuttering completely to a stop.

"Sirius!"

He could almost, almost see them now, as he died…they hadn't seen him yet but he could tell they were about to step forward, about to find his body—because it was only a body now, he realized numbly, as if from afar…literally from afar, as he drifted away from it…only a body, and he couldn't stay any longer.

"SIRIUS!"

"Sirius! Nooo!"

Their voices followed him into the heavy darkness which swallowed his whole world.

Sirius came to himself, if you could call it that, slowly. The first thing he realized was that he could feel his body again somehow, although he had a feeling it wasn't really his body…he didn't really understand what it was, but it felt like he had his hands and arms and everything back…

The second thing he became aware of was the presence of two people he thought he would never see again.

"James!" He cried, although he wasn't sure you could really call it a "sound" that he made, leaping forward to wrap his arms around his lost friend.

"Lily," he breathed, as she moved into the hug. "You're here, you're real…so…I'm dead."

"You shouldn't be," James tightened his hold convulsively, trying to fill Sirius with warmth and love. "You would have never been if Lucious Malfoy hadn't thought he recognized you at the train station and put a curse on you. He cursed you with dark magic, something like what the muggles call depression, to make you feel unloved, unwanted, in the way. Something to strip you of your reason and get you to do something stupid," James revealed.

"And I did…I felt like they would be better off without me…constantly, pressing down on me was this sense that I should act on that thought. It was so hard to resist…"Sirius started.

"It wasn't your fault." Lily insisted, pulling back to look him in the eye.

"No, it wasn't." James stated gently, firmly, also pulling back a little, holding him by the shoulders now and staring him down, as if to will Sirius to understand and send him strength and resolve through eye-contact alone. "But you're not done down there yet. Harry and Remus need you, the Order needs you, the whole damn wizarding world needs you."

Sirius could only smile. Leave it to his best friend to wave away the darkness like it was nothing, to build him back up when he was at his lowest.

"You'll have to get Remus to lift the curse off of you, but now that you know it's there he should be able to get rid of it," James continued.

"But how…how can I go back? I tried, tried to get my wand, tried to release the noose, tried to call out, or at least hold out until they found me…and I couldn't—Harry and Remus, I'm so sorry—I shouldn't have put them through this. They've been through enough…" Sirius began.

"You can go back, because they haven't given up on you. Look," And just like that, James brought him back to that place by the ceiling, hovering above the scene as Remus cut his body down, caught him, and began attempts to resuscitate him. He heard as they discovered that he was still warm, saw as the hope warred with the despair in their faces. "You can still go back."

He wanted to, wanted more than anything to banish those looks from Harry and Remus's faces, to never see so much grief on them again.

He loved them so much.

"They need you. Please, be the father I couldn't be for Harry, be the friend and brother I can't be for Remus." James wrapped his arms around Sirius again, drawing him first in a hug, and then placed his hands on either side of his heart, right where Remus and Harry were directing their spells.

"You're my best man, the brother I chose, and you've still got work to do. Go back with our love, Sirius. We'll be waiting here for you all; take your time." And James shoved him back into his own body.

He awoke to Remus's voice, struggling for air and yet breathing easier with each intake and exhale as the healing charms took effect, marveling at the wonder of it.

"Re—Remus…"

Sirius was struck by the intensity of Remus's gaze as his eyes snapped to meet Sirius's, the firm grip of his hand on his shoulder, as he came to terms with the idea that Sirius really was alive.

"Sirius," Remus sobbed with what must have been relief, "I'm here, we're here…we've got you."

A fresh tear rolled down Sirius's cheek as Remus gazed at him so intensely, squeezing his shoulder as if he might still slip away if Remus didn't hold on tight enough, touched by the little sob Remus couldn't quite keep out of his voice as he realized that Sirius was ok, and at his words…I'm here… He should have gone to Remus weeks ago, he thought as the next tear fell, should have trusted that he would have Sirius's back…we've got you…of course he did, he was Remus wasn't he?