The chains chafed at his wrists, but the convict took no note. The fight was gone from the once happy man, drained in a single night. This whole charade was the icing on the cake. He could almost see the world rubbing the salt into his wound. But he didn't care. Not anymore.

Life had obviously had it in for him. Maybe he'd made a mistake all those years, not keeping it a secret. But who wants to live life a lie? As long as the choice was there, he wouldn't live a lie. Not like Remus. That was the difference, though. He had had a choice. Remus hadn't. Whether he had chosen right was another story.

Until today he thought he had chosen right. Never once had it interfered with life, and in fact had enhanced it quite a bit. Even last night it had helped him as he scurried through the ruins, trying to find any sign of them. But today....oh, god, today of all days....

It hadn't even come into his mind as a factor until the moment Peter had "killed" himself. In that instant, he knew that it would influence the Ministry, that he wouldn't even get a trial because of it. After all, who trusts a thief?

"He is to be taken to Azkaban immediately. What? A trial? No! No trial. I saw it with my own eyes! The man- What? Veritaserum? Whatever for, Dumbledore? No, no, I tell you, I saw him do it. With his record especially, it couldn't have been anything else. No! The matter is closed, Headmaster. There will be no more discussion."

No emotion registered on the accused's face, but inside a range of emotions from utter despair (Why me?! Why James?! Why Lily and Harry?!) to uncontrollable rage (I'll kill the rat, I swear it on my life!) warred with one another. Despair won for the moment, swallowing him into an unconsolable maw of complete and total desperation. (James is dead! Dead! De-e-a-a-d....)



* * *



The four year old hugged Sheri tightly around the waist, tears streaming from his eyes. A bruise was already blossoming on his cheek, part of his anguish, as the terrified tot buried his face in her skirts.

"Mama just *hic* hit me again, Sheri. I dun-*hic*-no why, though. Doesn't she *hic* love me? I love *hic* her! Why doesn't Mama *hic* love me, Sheri?"

The winsome blonde smoothed his black hair and held him steady as the little boy cried himself out. When the hiccups had stopped, she knelt down to his height, looking him in the eyes.

"Mama loves you, Sirius. She just has a hard time showing it because every time she sees you...Well, you were the one mistake she's ever made, Sirius."

"M-mist-t-t-take?"

The child was still stuttering from muscles tense from sobbing, trying to keep the tears from flowing. It was at the point where it wasn't that he wouldn't stop, but that he couldn't stop.

"Sirius...Do you know what Mama does?"

"Y-yeah. Sh-sh-she's a whore."

"And you know what a whore is, right?"

"Uh huh" He did live in a whorehouse, after all.

"Well, Sirius, she didn't mean to have you. No whore is expecting child. But she forgot to protect herself and along you came. And every time she sees you, it's like reopening a scab.

The boy nodded knowledgeably. He knew all about scabs.

"There now, do you understand?"

"I s'ppose so."

"Good boy."

* * *



The man started as that memory faded. It had been a long time since he had thought about Sheri. She had been his surrogate mother, drying his tears when his blood mother had abused him, comforting him when Mama had rejected him. Despite being a whore herself, she had been a kind person, and the only thing between himself and the streets for five years. Until the-

His mind shied violently away from thought. No point in dwelling on further misery. Not now, anyways.