Disclaimer: Names, characters and situations are based on the Harry Potter novells and belong to J.K.Rowling. No money is made with this story.

Thanks to Lisande, for beta-reading and encouragement!

A few days ago I re-read some scenes in OotP, especially the ones featuring Sirius. It made me very angry and sad. This is the result of the following temper tantrum and rush of inspiration. I hope you like it! Enjoy:

Cracking

With a crash the vase hit the wall and shattered.

Shards flew over the old parquet floor with chirping sounds. They came to a halt, lying on the floor like a precious cover of glittering diamonts. He stared at them angrily. His hands still shook from the wave of fury raging inside his chest. He was breathing quickly. Long, dark hair fell into his eyes.

The shards on the floor seemed to be taunting him. Nasty little voices that kept telling him how useless he was. 'Coward!' they whispered. 'Traitor! Go on and hide away! COWARD!' They kept chanting their infuriating slander, over and over again the words echoed through his head. The bubbeling rage in his stomach was reaching its hottest point. He felt like he was going to burst –

Suddenly a knock on the door washed over him like a splash off cold water. A muffled voice sounded through the closed door, half-heartedly demanding him to open up. The fire that had been burning in his chest a few seconds before had been reduced to a smouldering heap, only distantly reminding of the burst of emotions a moment before.

The knocking stopped, the voice retreated, but it had done its share. He was down again. The tight feeling in his chest was still there, now even more painful then minutes ago. His was trembling madly as the adrenaline faded off, leaving only a weakened and shaken body. With a desperate sob he let himself fall against the moldy wall and slid down to the floor.

His eyes strayed to the glass shards again, which were still blinking maliciously at him. Suddenly he was back to the cold and empty feeling deep inside, the unbearable state he'd been in the last few months. The walls were pressing onto him again, taunting him for his helplessness. Only a faded memory of the wonderful free feeling of raging fury remained, but with the time it would vanish, too.

He'd taken it all without protest. He'd seen Dumbledore's reasons, even if he didn't agree with them. Obidently he'd ignored the nasty side-remarks from Snape, the stinging comments from Molly Weasley. He'd done everything they'd asked of him, accepting the fact that his pleads wouldn't be granted. Even at the painful rows at the kitching table, in front of everybody else, he'd forced his anger down and swallowed everything that was thrown at him. No matter how bitter and unfair the accusations were.

But now it was becoming too much. He just couldn't take it anymore. All the pain and bitterness bottled up inside, he just hadn't been able to keep it down anymore. All he'd wanted was to get free of the heavy weight pressing onto him.

But even now he'd backed down for peace's sake and gone quietly. In a last desperate attempt to free himself he slammed his fist down on the parquet floor, wincing as sharp little glass shards pierced into his palm. The anger was gone completely now, like a dream, only leaving cold emptiness in its wake.

Tears welled up in his eyes as he stared at his hand and watched the blood seep out of the small cuts. Warm and sticky it formed little rivulets and dripped down his palm, over his hand and forearm. The trembling had taken over his whole body now. With a silent sob he drew his knees up to his chest and burried his face in his arms.

Brokenly, he cried.

A/N: Can I have some reviews now? Please? *big sad puppydogeyes*