Title: Because You Smiled, Part Three: A Stained and Tainted Soul
Author: Ketsueki Ookami
Pairings: JP/SS, JP/LP, SB/RL
Summary: Another side of the story. What went on with Sirius all those years in Azkaban? Just how does he feel about the blood on his hands? A murderer tells his nightmare, literally. More in the works.
AN: Soon to come (based on amount of reviews): POVs of Remus, Lucius (It is decided! He will indeed receive a short interlude!), aaaaaaaaaand of course James. Yeah, he comes last. So if you wanna read it, you gotsta review it. Seems fair enough to me, being that I have revoked the dreaded review count rule. Gimme some reviews and I'll post the next chapter. That's just a few more, come on, you can do it!
Thank Yous: Thanks to the wonderful Bellisario, Lena, and Ilona for reviewing my story. And come on Bell, I'm only asking for five reviews a chapter! That shouldn't take very long! But.as you can see, I'll add when I get some reviews. Sooos, just keep reviewing and I'll keep it coming.
WARNING: Large amounts of gore! (And some sap. How do you fit gore and sap together in four pages of the same story? I must be talented) If you get a little sick or squicked, then I suggest you just stop reading this chapter. Don't flame me because of the fact that I can handle this. If you can't, just stop. If you feel the need to tell me you had to stop, do so nicely. You do not, for any reason, need to read this to fully understand the series. I am posting it because you may want to. These little monologues are all linked, but could definitely stand alone. And yes, I will count a complaint about gore as a review.
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I can still remember it like yesterday. Every last detail. His death has faded, finding his body has blurred, but I can tell you everything about twelve years in Azkaban in detail so gory I could make you scream. I could make you scream until your vocal cords shredded themselves into a gory tatter, and you'd still be trying to cry out. You'd be sobbing on the ground begging for mercy, begging me to stop, before I got through my first month. That's how it is, Remus. That's just how it is.
I can tell you what Dementors sound like when they're hungry. I can tell you what that cold slimy flesh feels like against your skin. I can tell you about getting the shit beaten out of me by real Death Eaters before they moved me to my own cell. The Death Eaters hated me. Either they were low-level ones, who thought I set Voldemort up; or they were from the inner circle and wanted to give me shit because I didn't do it. I lost either way.
People there knew I didn't do it! They knew! Those bastards knew I wasn't guilty! They knew about Pettigrew. If they wanted the traitor so much, why not tell the guards? Because they just wanted to see me rot away with them. I missed you Remus, with all my soul. Even when I thought you were the traitor, I loved you. I love you. Never doubt that. At first, I thought only of you. About how I had been wrong. And how I missed you so much it felt like my insides were being eaten away. They weren't happy thoughts, no. But they were thoughts. Then, my thoughts started turning towards Wormtail. I couldn't help it, it was like a drug. An obsession. But I'm sure it's the only reason I came out of there alive and in some semblance of sanity.
Yes, some semblance of sanity. Listen to me, Remus. I'm about to tell you something I've never shared with anyone before. It.it started three months in. I had these.dreams. I couldn't remember them to start with. But that's the way of recurring dreams, isn't it? At first they taunt you, then they bother you, then they disturb you, and soon you can feel yourself coming unhinged with every passing night. At least, I could. The content was.less than desirable.
These dreams, these damnable dreams, were always the same. I am sitting in the ruins of Godric's Hollow. What had once been the sitting room. It is dark, and the stars are faintly red in the night sky. The carpet.reeks of blood and death. Or maybe it is sex. Does it disturb you, that death and sex smell so similar to me? Rest assured, death-scent of this brand is almost identical. It is the scent of death by Cruciatus. The scent of blood and sweat and physical exertion. The differences are so subtle. There are still screams and howls lingering on the air. If I listen, I can hear them. I am sitting on a large damp stain. I bring my hand down to it, and then look at my fingers. Blood. James' blood. But that is hardly the worst of it.
"Hello, Padfoot old friend."
The voice echoes, but it echoes in a strangely muted way. As though the speaker is in a foggy tunnel, and whatever sound isn't absorbed right away bounces around in disjointed patterns. I turn slowly. I don't want to look; I don't want to believe it. I am confronted with James. Not James as we knew him. He is mangled, and blood flows freely off of him, as though it is seeping out of his very pores. His skin is deathly white, and I stand. I take two steps, three. I am in front of him. I reach my hand out and touch his cheek. He is cold, and his skin is stiff. His eyes are dull, his hair is matted. He is a walking, talking corpse. And he laughs at me. A cold, cruel high pitched laugh that I didn't know he was capable of. The laugh sounds so.damaged. So.deranged. It is not the laugh of my friend. It is the laugh of a killer. Abruptly, the laughing stops. Slim, cold fingers are wrapped gently around my neck.
"You killed me, Sirius."
"No, James! I.it was an accident! I didn't know! I didn't-"
The fingers tighten and I start to sob. I can feel the irregularities of shattered bones and snapped sinew under the torn flesh. But there is still strength in these broken hands. Large amounts of strength. I feel as though my neck will be snapped, and I grasp frantically at the hands.
"James, what-.." I pant. "What are you-...uh, ah-?" I manage to gasp out enough of the question to be understood. He smiles. His teeth are stained with blood.
"I'm taking your life, Sirius. Isn't it only fair? You took mine, did you not?" He releases me and I crumple to the ground. "You had a hand in it, you know. Look, Sirius. My blood is on your hands."
I look down at my palms. They are indeed coated with blood. It pools in my palms and drips from my fingertips. I scrub my hands franticly on my dirty robes. I have noticed that these robes get dirtier and my hair gets more matted with every dream. It makes me wonder sometimes, if they are indeed dreams. The blood will not come off. I run from the ruins, to the pond in the back garden. I plunge my hands into the freezing water, and scrub them on the grass. Nothing works. All of my efforts simply make the blood spread.
"There is no denying it, Sirius." The voice, James' voice, is sing- song and mocking. I turn around, livid.
"I didn't kill you! It wasn't my fault! Go back to your rest! Stop tormenting me!" I am sobbing again. It makes James laugh.
"You can't deny the truth forever, Si-ri-us." He is circling me, taunting me. He is a spirit unwilling to accept his fate, and he will not move on until vindicated. I wonder what it would take to pay him back, to open the pathway to the Otherworld for him. I wonder if my death would be enough. He grabs me from behind, and once again those cold slim hands are wrapped around my throat. I struggle and cry, but he is too strong. Soon I feel the life fading from my body, and I hear him laugh.
I always wake up then, cold and sweating. The thing that clenches it in my mind, that proves these are not dreams, is the hand prints. Every time, I would awake screaming and sweating, shaking in anguish. I would bring my hands to my neck, to reassure myself that it was just a dream. And they would always be there. I could feel them. Warm and swollen, and undoubtedly red. He had been there. I knew it. He was dead. And like a shark in the water, he was after my blood.
These.visits, I guess I should call them now that you know their true nature. They continued for the duration of my stay in Azkaban, and for quite some time after. It wasn't until the incident with Harry in the Shrieking Shack that James left me in peace. It still shocks me how simple the solution was.
"Going to kill me, Harry?"
"You killed them!"
"I don't deny it, but if you knew the whole story." That was when it hit me. I had killed James. And.I had admitted it.
I had another dream that night. It was.different from the others. I am sitting in the ruins of Godric's hollow again. It is day this time. The ruins are old, and there is grass and flowers growing in them. I am sitting on the stain, but it is faint and dry. Birds fly amongst the trees, and I spot a stag next to the pond. I stay where I am sitting, fearing interaction with the man who so haunted me. I fear interaction with my own best friend. James transforms, and he stands. There is no blood. He is once again animated and handsome. He walks towards me, slowly and calmly. He leaves small indented footprints in the grass.
"Sirius."
"Stay.stay away! I did it! I did it, alright?! I killed you!" I start sobbing. "I killed you.It's all my fault."
He smiles sadly at me and takes my hand, pulling me up from the ground. I do not resist. He takes me in his arms and we stand there, rocking slowly back and forth on our feet. I recognize the gesture as what I did to comfort him when news of his parents' deaths had reached him.
"Yes and no, Sirius. You killed me, yes. But it is not all your fault. Peter killed me, Voldemort killed me, and Dumbledore killed me, and Remus killed me, and Lily killed me, and Harry killed me, and I killed myself. And there are so many more."
I look at him, tilting my head slightly to look into his eyes. He is very tall. Harry will never reach his height. "I.don't understand."
"We all had a hand in my death, Sirius. Some of us more than others. You have accepted your responsibility. Now you must forgive yourself."
"How? How can I forgive myself?!"
"I don't know, Sirius. I have forgiven you."
"What?"
"You have accepted your responsibility. So now I can forgive you. I can forgive you because you understand. I can move on now."
"Have you forgiven the others?"
"Some will never be forgiven." I know he is referring to Voldemort and Wormtail. "Some will not be ready to realize the part they played until they themselves have died."
"Harry?"
"Yes. My Harry." He smiles fondly. I know he and Lily were having problems with the marriage towards the end, whether or not they would admit it. However, He still loved Harry. I admired that. Many a man would turn and walk away. Many a man would ignore their son completely, out of spite for the mother. James was never one for punishing a person for another's faults. "Harry has Lily to watch over him. There are others I must watch."
I don't ask who. I know, and it disgusts me. But James is James, and James has taken a lot of jobs I wouldn't have touched with a ten foot broomstick in the past. I admire that also.
"So.you're going now?"
"Yes." He pulls me close, holds me tight, and I drown in his warmth and his scent. He's so real. I never want to let go. He leans in and kisses my cheek. It is a brotherly gesture, and I welcome it. He holds me at arms length and looks into my eyes. I can't stop myself from crying. This time, though, they are happy tears. "Take care of yourself, Sirius. And Remus and Harry. They need you."
I hold him close, happy for the chance to say goodbye. "I'll miss you."
"There's no need to miss me. Some bonds are far too strong to be broken. Like bonds of love."
"Of love?"
"Yes. Love. Sirius, you are a brother to me. Nothing can change that. I love you like family. More than family. Just think of me, and I'll be with you in my own way."
"You promise?"
"Yeah. I promise."
I awoke in the morning feeling peaceful and sated. The air was fresh.well, as fresh as it can be in the summertime, and for the first time in almost thirteen years I was ready to admit that it was a beautiful day. Well, almost. So I thought of James and forgiveness. And then it was.
Author: Ketsueki Ookami
Pairings: JP/SS, JP/LP, SB/RL
Summary: Another side of the story. What went on with Sirius all those years in Azkaban? Just how does he feel about the blood on his hands? A murderer tells his nightmare, literally. More in the works.
AN: Soon to come (based on amount of reviews): POVs of Remus, Lucius (It is decided! He will indeed receive a short interlude!), aaaaaaaaaand of course James. Yeah, he comes last. So if you wanna read it, you gotsta review it. Seems fair enough to me, being that I have revoked the dreaded review count rule. Gimme some reviews and I'll post the next chapter. That's just a few more, come on, you can do it!
Thank Yous: Thanks to the wonderful Bellisario, Lena, and Ilona for reviewing my story. And come on Bell, I'm only asking for five reviews a chapter! That shouldn't take very long! But.as you can see, I'll add when I get some reviews. Sooos, just keep reviewing and I'll keep it coming.
WARNING: Large amounts of gore! (And some sap. How do you fit gore and sap together in four pages of the same story? I must be talented) If you get a little sick or squicked, then I suggest you just stop reading this chapter. Don't flame me because of the fact that I can handle this. If you can't, just stop. If you feel the need to tell me you had to stop, do so nicely. You do not, for any reason, need to read this to fully understand the series. I am posting it because you may want to. These little monologues are all linked, but could definitely stand alone. And yes, I will count a complaint about gore as a review.
---------------------------------------------------------------------------- ----------------------------
I can still remember it like yesterday. Every last detail. His death has faded, finding his body has blurred, but I can tell you everything about twelve years in Azkaban in detail so gory I could make you scream. I could make you scream until your vocal cords shredded themselves into a gory tatter, and you'd still be trying to cry out. You'd be sobbing on the ground begging for mercy, begging me to stop, before I got through my first month. That's how it is, Remus. That's just how it is.
I can tell you what Dementors sound like when they're hungry. I can tell you what that cold slimy flesh feels like against your skin. I can tell you about getting the shit beaten out of me by real Death Eaters before they moved me to my own cell. The Death Eaters hated me. Either they were low-level ones, who thought I set Voldemort up; or they were from the inner circle and wanted to give me shit because I didn't do it. I lost either way.
People there knew I didn't do it! They knew! Those bastards knew I wasn't guilty! They knew about Pettigrew. If they wanted the traitor so much, why not tell the guards? Because they just wanted to see me rot away with them. I missed you Remus, with all my soul. Even when I thought you were the traitor, I loved you. I love you. Never doubt that. At first, I thought only of you. About how I had been wrong. And how I missed you so much it felt like my insides were being eaten away. They weren't happy thoughts, no. But they were thoughts. Then, my thoughts started turning towards Wormtail. I couldn't help it, it was like a drug. An obsession. But I'm sure it's the only reason I came out of there alive and in some semblance of sanity.
Yes, some semblance of sanity. Listen to me, Remus. I'm about to tell you something I've never shared with anyone before. It.it started three months in. I had these.dreams. I couldn't remember them to start with. But that's the way of recurring dreams, isn't it? At first they taunt you, then they bother you, then they disturb you, and soon you can feel yourself coming unhinged with every passing night. At least, I could. The content was.less than desirable.
These dreams, these damnable dreams, were always the same. I am sitting in the ruins of Godric's Hollow. What had once been the sitting room. It is dark, and the stars are faintly red in the night sky. The carpet.reeks of blood and death. Or maybe it is sex. Does it disturb you, that death and sex smell so similar to me? Rest assured, death-scent of this brand is almost identical. It is the scent of death by Cruciatus. The scent of blood and sweat and physical exertion. The differences are so subtle. There are still screams and howls lingering on the air. If I listen, I can hear them. I am sitting on a large damp stain. I bring my hand down to it, and then look at my fingers. Blood. James' blood. But that is hardly the worst of it.
"Hello, Padfoot old friend."
The voice echoes, but it echoes in a strangely muted way. As though the speaker is in a foggy tunnel, and whatever sound isn't absorbed right away bounces around in disjointed patterns. I turn slowly. I don't want to look; I don't want to believe it. I am confronted with James. Not James as we knew him. He is mangled, and blood flows freely off of him, as though it is seeping out of his very pores. His skin is deathly white, and I stand. I take two steps, three. I am in front of him. I reach my hand out and touch his cheek. He is cold, and his skin is stiff. His eyes are dull, his hair is matted. He is a walking, talking corpse. And he laughs at me. A cold, cruel high pitched laugh that I didn't know he was capable of. The laugh sounds so.damaged. So.deranged. It is not the laugh of my friend. It is the laugh of a killer. Abruptly, the laughing stops. Slim, cold fingers are wrapped gently around my neck.
"You killed me, Sirius."
"No, James! I.it was an accident! I didn't know! I didn't-"
The fingers tighten and I start to sob. I can feel the irregularities of shattered bones and snapped sinew under the torn flesh. But there is still strength in these broken hands. Large amounts of strength. I feel as though my neck will be snapped, and I grasp frantically at the hands.
"James, what-.." I pant. "What are you-...uh, ah-?" I manage to gasp out enough of the question to be understood. He smiles. His teeth are stained with blood.
"I'm taking your life, Sirius. Isn't it only fair? You took mine, did you not?" He releases me and I crumple to the ground. "You had a hand in it, you know. Look, Sirius. My blood is on your hands."
I look down at my palms. They are indeed coated with blood. It pools in my palms and drips from my fingertips. I scrub my hands franticly on my dirty robes. I have noticed that these robes get dirtier and my hair gets more matted with every dream. It makes me wonder sometimes, if they are indeed dreams. The blood will not come off. I run from the ruins, to the pond in the back garden. I plunge my hands into the freezing water, and scrub them on the grass. Nothing works. All of my efforts simply make the blood spread.
"There is no denying it, Sirius." The voice, James' voice, is sing- song and mocking. I turn around, livid.
"I didn't kill you! It wasn't my fault! Go back to your rest! Stop tormenting me!" I am sobbing again. It makes James laugh.
"You can't deny the truth forever, Si-ri-us." He is circling me, taunting me. He is a spirit unwilling to accept his fate, and he will not move on until vindicated. I wonder what it would take to pay him back, to open the pathway to the Otherworld for him. I wonder if my death would be enough. He grabs me from behind, and once again those cold slim hands are wrapped around my throat. I struggle and cry, but he is too strong. Soon I feel the life fading from my body, and I hear him laugh.
I always wake up then, cold and sweating. The thing that clenches it in my mind, that proves these are not dreams, is the hand prints. Every time, I would awake screaming and sweating, shaking in anguish. I would bring my hands to my neck, to reassure myself that it was just a dream. And they would always be there. I could feel them. Warm and swollen, and undoubtedly red. He had been there. I knew it. He was dead. And like a shark in the water, he was after my blood.
These.visits, I guess I should call them now that you know their true nature. They continued for the duration of my stay in Azkaban, and for quite some time after. It wasn't until the incident with Harry in the Shrieking Shack that James left me in peace. It still shocks me how simple the solution was.
"Going to kill me, Harry?"
"You killed them!"
"I don't deny it, but if you knew the whole story." That was when it hit me. I had killed James. And.I had admitted it.
I had another dream that night. It was.different from the others. I am sitting in the ruins of Godric's hollow again. It is day this time. The ruins are old, and there is grass and flowers growing in them. I am sitting on the stain, but it is faint and dry. Birds fly amongst the trees, and I spot a stag next to the pond. I stay where I am sitting, fearing interaction with the man who so haunted me. I fear interaction with my own best friend. James transforms, and he stands. There is no blood. He is once again animated and handsome. He walks towards me, slowly and calmly. He leaves small indented footprints in the grass.
"Sirius."
"Stay.stay away! I did it! I did it, alright?! I killed you!" I start sobbing. "I killed you.It's all my fault."
He smiles sadly at me and takes my hand, pulling me up from the ground. I do not resist. He takes me in his arms and we stand there, rocking slowly back and forth on our feet. I recognize the gesture as what I did to comfort him when news of his parents' deaths had reached him.
"Yes and no, Sirius. You killed me, yes. But it is not all your fault. Peter killed me, Voldemort killed me, and Dumbledore killed me, and Remus killed me, and Lily killed me, and Harry killed me, and I killed myself. And there are so many more."
I look at him, tilting my head slightly to look into his eyes. He is very tall. Harry will never reach his height. "I.don't understand."
"We all had a hand in my death, Sirius. Some of us more than others. You have accepted your responsibility. Now you must forgive yourself."
"How? How can I forgive myself?!"
"I don't know, Sirius. I have forgiven you."
"What?"
"You have accepted your responsibility. So now I can forgive you. I can forgive you because you understand. I can move on now."
"Have you forgiven the others?"
"Some will never be forgiven." I know he is referring to Voldemort and Wormtail. "Some will not be ready to realize the part they played until they themselves have died."
"Harry?"
"Yes. My Harry." He smiles fondly. I know he and Lily were having problems with the marriage towards the end, whether or not they would admit it. However, He still loved Harry. I admired that. Many a man would turn and walk away. Many a man would ignore their son completely, out of spite for the mother. James was never one for punishing a person for another's faults. "Harry has Lily to watch over him. There are others I must watch."
I don't ask who. I know, and it disgusts me. But James is James, and James has taken a lot of jobs I wouldn't have touched with a ten foot broomstick in the past. I admire that also.
"So.you're going now?"
"Yes." He pulls me close, holds me tight, and I drown in his warmth and his scent. He's so real. I never want to let go. He leans in and kisses my cheek. It is a brotherly gesture, and I welcome it. He holds me at arms length and looks into my eyes. I can't stop myself from crying. This time, though, they are happy tears. "Take care of yourself, Sirius. And Remus and Harry. They need you."
I hold him close, happy for the chance to say goodbye. "I'll miss you."
"There's no need to miss me. Some bonds are far too strong to be broken. Like bonds of love."
"Of love?"
"Yes. Love. Sirius, you are a brother to me. Nothing can change that. I love you like family. More than family. Just think of me, and I'll be with you in my own way."
"You promise?"
"Yeah. I promise."
I awoke in the morning feeling peaceful and sated. The air was fresh.well, as fresh as it can be in the summertime, and for the first time in almost thirteen years I was ready to admit that it was a beautiful day. Well, almost. So I thought of James and forgiveness. And then it was.