I noticed the owl at my window before even he started to peck at it. I was up from the shabby armchair immediately to take the Prophet from the barn owl, slotting some knuts into the leather pouch on its leg. The owl flew away as soon as I'd fastened the tie on the pouch, the sole living thing I'd had any contact with in several weeks. Besides my…clients. To put it euphemistically.
Likewise, the Prophet - evening edition, for I was never awake early enough anymore to pay the owl for the morning edition - was my only form of entertainment anymore. That, I had to admit, was quite pathetic. Entertainment. I snorted humourlessly. The Prophet was about as entertaining as watching paint dry.
I scanned the front page quickly first, making my way back to my armchair near the struggling fire, and instantly realised why I'd felt like I was forgetting something all day.
It was the 31st of October.
I felt as if someone had punched me in the stomach, winded, gasping for breath. I strained to regain some composure before I could examine the paper again. Eventually, feeling sick to my stomach, I risked a look at it. It seemed the Prophet was enjoying the five year anniversary of my friends' deaths. One smaller headline in particular held my attention.
BLACK CLAIMS INNOCENCE
Notorious mass murderer Sirius Black, in an interview with the Daily Prophet , claims he is actually innocent, despite little evidence in his favour.
I sat frozen in my seat for perhaps a minute, staring at the headline without reading the rest of the article.
Innocent? How could Sirius honestly expect anyone to believe that? Did he think I'd believe that? Was he deluded? Had he really lost it in Azkaban?
But, as I thought of it, it was just like him to lie about this. He was always the one to lie to teachers at Hogwarts to cover up for the pranks James, Peter and himself did when I wouldn't lie for them. At that thought, the memories of the Marauders' days at Hogwarts came flooding back to me painfully.
'Moony!' a raven-haired boy accosted a quieter brunette. 'Prongs wants me to ask you for your help to turn Dumbledore's beard bright pink even though I've already told him you'll say no!'
And Sirius had lied to me for God only knows how long leading up to his betrayal of James and Lily. Perhaps he never even loved me. That was very possible. The thought was poison, seeping through my mind with agonising effect. Maybe his estrangement from the Blacks was an act. Maybe it was all a very well thought out plan to make a perfect spy.
I'd often thought this before. The more paranoid I became, the more it made sense. It horrified me to think that Sirius may never have loved me. But it made more sense than the alternative.
I regarded the article in front of me with disgust. Then I savagely ripped the entire front page from the rest of the newspaper and hurled it into the dwindling fire, ignoring the fact that it would probably destroy any hope of having a decent flame tonight.
How dare Sirius claim innocence? It was sickening.
The thought preoccupied me completely as I left my grotty flat, half an hour later, to go to…work.
AN: You can interpret Remus's 'work' however you like, obviously it's not pleasant and very much a last resort for him. As you can see, these chapters are getting progressively shorter, sorry. I'll be doing one more that will be a little longer than a drabble (I'll probably upload it later today) and then I'll stop. Please review! I still love you forever :D!
