Sirius opened his eyes slowly. The ceiling above him was in begun to whirl
round like a carousel. His body ached and his head felt like a large dead
weight. After lying still for a good five minutes, Sirius propped himself
up on his elbows to get a look at his surroundings. Clean white sheets,
high curtains and rows of medicine jars told him instantly that he was in
the hospital ward. Throwing the bed sheets back Sirius decided to see if
his body would support his weight.
Throwing the itchy bed covers back, he swung his legs over the side of the
bed and placed his feet on the floor. After only a step forward his legs
promptly buckled from beneath him.
The floor was cold and hard. Sirius's mind began its familiar round the
clock disturbance, whispers danced in his ears and pictures snapped before
his eyes. Hugging his knees into his chest, Sirius curled up on the floor
and closed his eyes.
James placed his hand on Sirius's head and pushed back a few strands of hair from the flickering closed eyes. Glancing at his hand he wondered what was unfolding beneath the thin bone that housed Sirius's weird brain. Who was born, murdered and resurrected inside that skull? What wandered behind Sirius's eyelids and tortured him at night? Sirius often dreamed about things that were going to happen, or of things that had already come to pass that he couldn't possibly know about. He had these visions in the day too, but the ones that came in the form of dreams were the more potent. They were also more cryptic which lulled Sirius into serenity when he began working them out. James sighed to himself. He felt like he'd failed Sirius somehow. When Sirius had these "attacks" he often felt as if he should have done more to help. A beep of his watch told him it was four in the morning. Thinking mildly of getting some sleep, he began to make a move. He was just crossing the room when Sirius gave a low moan. "Sirius?" he whispered.
James placed his hand on Sirius's head and pushed back a few strands of hair from the flickering closed eyes. Glancing at his hand he wondered what was unfolding beneath the thin bone that housed Sirius's weird brain. Who was born, murdered and resurrected inside that skull? What wandered behind Sirius's eyelids and tortured him at night? Sirius often dreamed about things that were going to happen, or of things that had already come to pass that he couldn't possibly know about. He had these visions in the day too, but the ones that came in the form of dreams were the more potent. They were also more cryptic which lulled Sirius into serenity when he began working them out. James sighed to himself. He felt like he'd failed Sirius somehow. When Sirius had these "attacks" he often felt as if he should have done more to help. A beep of his watch told him it was four in the morning. Thinking mildly of getting some sleep, he began to make a move. He was just crossing the room when Sirius gave a low moan. "Sirius?" he whispered.