Disclaimer: Charakters and situation belong to J.K.Rowling, no money is made with this story, it was only written to satisfy the author's love for fav-chara-torture.

Special thanks to my beta Lisande; at least you'll be able to read this with nearly no spelling mistakes! :)

Deep Fall

Everything around him was dark. He blinked to adjust his eyes and realised that he was wearing a blindfold. His hands were bound behind his back The side of his face was stinging with pain. Something wet and sticky was clinging to it. Blood. With a shudder he sat up and tried to orientate. And with his senses the memories came crashing back on him.

The empty hiding place. The smouldering ruin of the Potter's house. Little Harry crying. Pettigrew running as he noticed his persecutor. The words of accusation throwing him of. The blasting explosion.

Bodies. Screaming Muggles. The irony of it all.

He recalled the Hitwizards appearing on the scene. Being arrested. As the shock wore of fear came through. He started to struggle, to fight. Screaming that he was innocent. He saw Remus, arriving only a few minutes after Peter blasted the streets, together with another squad of Aurors.

// I didn't do it, Moony! I'm innocent!

"You lost the right to call me that, murderer! You betrayed them, you spineless coward! You traitorous bastard! ROT IN HELL, SIRIUS BLACK!!!" //

Remus had let him down. His last strand of hope had been ripped away. He'd panicked then, realising what was going to happen to him. He was innocent dammit, they had to believe him! What was going to happen to Harry? Peter was still alive, they were not save, didn't they see? Someone hit him hard in the face and he fell to the ground, nearly insane with fear and rage now.

HE DIDN'T WANT TO GO TO AZKABAN!!!

I didn't do it! Don't let them take me away! Remus, PLEASE!!! //

His heart started hammering wildly when he realised were he had to be now. They're going to question me! I'm going to have trial, they'll have to listen to me! The story fits, I can proof that Peter and me are Animagi! Dumbledore will hear me out, he'll be there, he's member of the Wizengamot! And they'll use Veritaserum! This is one big misunderstanding, they'll see it! It's going to be all right, they'll have to free me of the charges!

He tried to calm himself while thinking of the hearing. Of course they wouldn't ship him off to Azkaban! Feeling a bit more relieved and able to control the fear still lurking in the pitch of his stomach he settled back against the wall behind him and waited.

After some time he could hear footsteps. They were getting him for the hearing! Everything was ok, he would sort this out, there was no reason to worry. A key was thrust into the keyhole and the heavy door screeched open. Sirius still couldn't see anything, but he was sure that the blindfold was going to be removed the next moment.

"You fucking bastard!"

Before he could even register where the voice came from a boot caught him in the chest and pain shot through his body. He gasped and doubled over, trying to catch his breath. Someone pulled him up to his knees. He was kicked again, this time full in the face. With a cry of pain Sirius landed on the floor again. His mind was numbed by both shock and pain and he coughed harshly.

"I really hope they repay you with the Cruciatus for what you did before giving you the kiss, asshole." someone ground out through clenched teeth before going on to kick him in the stomach.

Sirius was shaking, still not able to orientate in the darkness when two strong pairs of hands grabbed him brutally and yanked him to his feet. Without another word his two guards briskly walked him out of the cell he'd been held in and down a long hall, careful to kick him in the heels sharply every time he stumbled at their rapid pace.

He heard a door open and was shoved into a room; apparently small because his steps didn't echo. The two men still holding his shoulders sat him down on a hard chair with as much force as possible. There was a content satisfied huff when his head cracked against the back of the interrogation chair he was now being chained to.

Then the blindfold was ripped off his eyes.

Bright light was greeting his now sensitive eyes and he clenched them shut, squinting at the room in front of him. A big desk standing on dais. Three people sitting behind it. More guards at the sides of the room, all pointing their wands at him. Looks of unrestrained rage and disgust on every face.

No Wizengamot. No Dumbledore. … And probably no trial.

Sirius gulped, fighting down the rush of panic starting to rise in his chest again. The people sitting before him and staring down at him where Bartemius Crouch, Head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement, Amelia Susan Bones, his vice of the job, and Cornelius Fudge, Junior Minister of Magic. All of them were trying to murder him with their gazes.

"Sirius Prokyon Black. You are charged with the murder of Lilliana Potter and James Harold Potter, association with You-Know-who, murder of Peter Pettigrew, murder of twelve members of the Muggle community, high treason and the practice of Dark Magic! As deputy for the Wizengamot we find you –"

"I didn't do it" Sirius broke him off with a frantic scream. "I'm innocent! It was Pettigrew – whompphh!!!" One of the guards still standing at his side clamped a hand over his mouth and gagged him with a swish of his wand. Before Sirius could react he backhanded him hard across the face. Sirius' head whipped around and smashed against the back of the chair he was bound to. Blood trickled down his chin.

Crouch glared at him as if he was the ugliest piece of dirt he'd ever been forced to look at. "How dare you taint the name of this man who stood up like a hero against you like that?! Never before in my entire life have I seen something as filthy and unworthy of human attention as now." His voice was becoming louder and louder with each syllable and he'd risen from his chair when the next words were spit out:

"Sirius Black, you are sentenced to Azkaban custody for the rest of your life!"

Sirius sat there shocked, not able to move. He hadn't said that! He couldn't! He had a right to defend himself, they couldn't just send him to Azkaban like that! THEY COULDN'T!!!

No-one waited for him to stomach the verdict enough to speak again. The chains fell down and he was grabbed again and pulled to his feet. They dragged him over and out of the small room again. He wrenched his head around again in despair and somehow managed to free himself from the gag.

"I'M INNOCENT! I DIDN'T DO ANYTHING; YOU CAN'T DO THIS! YOU CAN'T!!!"

Nobody listened. He only succeeded in provoking the guard even more. When he tried to fight the two holding him off in a fit of panic, someone kicked his legs out from beneath him and he crumbled. There was an angry cry from behind him and suddenly his whole body was on fire.

White-hot metal was pierced under his skin and every inch of his skin seemed to burst at the intense pain. He screamed under the torture just wishing that it would stop, stop, stop …

And then it was gone. He was half-unconscious with the after effects of the Cruciatus. Hands dragged him to his feet again and he could only dimly make the heated voices around him out through the haze.

"Are you mad to use the Cruciatus on him?! Do you want to be shipped of to Azkaban, too!"

"It's not like someone would mind! Look at this fucking piece of shit; he deserves it! It's far too good for him he deserves even more!!!" A sharp kick to his ribs and this time he was sure something broke.

"Man, take that wand down!! You maniac can torture him when we get over, but not in a Ministry hall!"

His mind started to slip off into darkness; the pain was becoming too much. He didn't even see the Dementors approaching when they reached the end of the hall. He only felt the coldness sweep beneath his skin. Icy hands clamped down on his upper arms and dragged his unresisting figure over the floor. And then there was nothing.

~*~*~*~*~*~

When he came to this time he didn't even need a second to remember where he was and what was going on. And that scared him. His body was aching, he was lying on a cell floor again, his hands still bound on his back. But this was different. Everything was cold and hopeless and dead. He wanted to cry out in despair, but his throat was raw from screaming. He didn't even try to sit up and fight the unnatural coldness floating around him.

Dementors.

He probably was already in Azkaban, but the fact there were still footsteps audible on the other side of the cell door, voices and busy noises, told him that they weren't through with him yet. What was coming now? What else could they do to him?

The Kiss.

His hearts sped up again and this time there was nothing he could think of to calm himself. Strangling fear pressed his windpipe closed and the presence of the Dementors made everything only worse. He'd never liked those creatures, but had still been able to fend them off with his mind clear and his angst controlled.

Now he was defenceless. There was no-one here to help him and it would stay that way until the end of his days. How would he possibly survive this for the rest of his life? What was the point in sending him here? 'They should have killed me instantly. That would have been more humanly than this.' But he knew well that he was supposed to suffer before he died.

He didn't know what else was coming towards him.

When he moved to his side to ease the pressure from his ribs heavy chains dragged over the rough concrete floor. Somebody outside made a hushing noise and a shadow appeared in front of the tiny window in the cell door. He could dimly make out the malicious grin on the man's face.

"He's awake!"

With that he was dragged out of the cell and down another corridor. A few other guards followed the two that were leading, or more dragging, him. Further behind Dementors joined the procession and Sirius had to gag as he thought of the sickness of it. His mind shortly wandered towards Peter and the hot rage burning in his chest was nearly enough to rip him out of his foggy-minded state.

"C'mon, move your legs, asshole!" the guard to his right sneered and gave him a rough shove.

His body was close to collapsing again and the pain in his legs made it nearly impossible to walk. He tried to stay on his feet and keep the pace his guards gave, but his muscles screamed in protest and soon refused to obey the barked commands from the others. They passed a few closed doors and then proceeded towards a stairway leading down.

"I swear if you don't move it, I'll make you!!" the man to his right screamed again and pushed him forward roughly, but Sirius found himself unable to comply, even if he had wanted.

"Get yourself together, Rick!" the other snarled, but he, too, jerked the prisoner's shoulder forward brutally.

They reached the stairs and Rick stopped at the first step. He looked sideways to the apathetic Sirius and then over to his colleague. As they started to go down the first steps he said: "I refuse to carry him down these fucking stairs like an invalid! Let the shit walk himself!"

"If you can, make him, dumbass!" the other replied through gritted teeth and grabbed Sirius' shoulder even harder to prevent him from overbalancing and tumbling down the stairs. But as it seemed he'd overdone Rick's temper.

"And I fucking will!!!" he roared, seized the prisoner's right arm and shoulder and gave him a mighty shove before letting go. Shocked, the guard on Sirius' other side did the same. Sirius didn't even have time to realise what had happened as he felt like he flew through the air.

With a sickening 'crack' he hit the stone steps further down the stairway. A hoarse scream erupted from his ravaged throat as searing pain shot through his whole body. He felt his right arm break as it was crushed beneath his body. His cries of pain were silenced when he rolled further down and smashed his face against the edge of a step. Blood filled his mouth and he nearly choked on it as he landed on his back again.

The world around him was spinning wildly and he was nearly unconscious as he crashed down on the lower end of the staircase. His heart was beating so fast it hurt against his cracked ribs and his head felt like it was going to explode. Moaning quietly he shifted and moved his broken arm. His hips and back felt as if they'd been shattered by the vicious fall and he was sure he would die any second now.

A hand jerked his head around another was pressing to his neck and nearly suffocating him. The voices drifting around him were growing louder and louder. Someone turned him over and checked the back of his skull. Blood was trickling over his skin. Wands were prodding him everywhere and the pain just didn't crease.

'Make it stop!' he begged silently. 'Get me out of here, please! HELP!!!'

"Are mad?! Were you trying to kill him?"

"Why do you care, Davis?! It's not like anybody'll miss him!!!"

"That doesn't mean that you can do something like this! Do you want to end up here, too?"

"If anything I'll be rewarded for giving the filthy bastard what he deserves! He's not going to get out of here alive anyway! Not even dead!"

"You still can't treat him like that! He's a human being after all!"

Rick's voice was low and dark when he answered. "This is not a human being anymore, not after all the things he's done! He doesn't deserve to be treated like a human."

Thick silence followed his statement. Sirius felt like he was an outstander, watching the whole scene; not like he was the subject being referred to. The pain was numbing his mind more and more and though he was still trembling with shock and panic, the physical strain was starting to wear on his body. He was dimly aware that his wounds had to be served after the fall and that he would probably go into shock soon. But he couldn't do anything about it. Nothing.

"Look." Rick said and kicked him against the chin. He winced and moaned quietly as another jab of pain was added to his torture. "Nothing vital broken. He can still walk, he's still alive. No harm done. He'll be dead in a few weeks anyway. Do you really want to go on about this just because of this worthless piece of shit?"

Apparently the answer was no, because Sirius was picked up again and dragged over to a door amongst many that were lining the dark hall way they were in now. Another guard opened it and Sirius was thrown to the floor carelessly once inside. To his surprise it was rather warm in the room; there was a fire going on. What the hell was happening now?

"Get him ready!" a guard, Davis, snarled as he went over to the fire and started to poke it with a long metal rod.

Sirius frowned, feeling the fear returning, but still too dazed by the pain to figure out what they were planning now. Why didn't they just put him into a cell and let him rot? Before he could persuade that particular thought however, a few pairs of hands were on him again, this time unfastening the clasps of his robe and pulling it down, so that his upper back was exposed to the air.

He was turned onto his stomach. Someone placed his knee in the small of his back to keep him in place, ignoring the pained grunt from the prisoner. Some laughed quietly as he weakly struggled against them, others forced him into position by more kicks or sharp slaps. One on each side they pressed his shoulders to the ground. Another hand roughly yanked his head to one side and pushed it down, so that he couldn't move his upper body anymore.

The voices around him were getting louder, more excited, and though he couldn't tell what they were going to do he knew that it wouldn't be good for him. A soft hiss of the fire. He was able to turn his head upwards, just a bit, and caught sight of Davis raking the fire. The fear was starting to get hold of him again and he felt nauseated. His whole body was shaking with pain and fear, and by now nobody seemed to find it funny anymore.

A guard came over to them, holding a vial with a black oily fluid. Sirius noticed that he was wearing gloves – and an evil grin. He obviously enjoyed the way the prisoner was staring up at him with horrified eyes. Then he vanished from Sirius' field of vision. The Animagus suppressed a scared whimper.

The pressure on his head and shoulders increased and someone placed a hand in the back of his neck and bent his head further down. Then something wet touched his bare skin. At first it felt ice-cold, but then the skin covered in it seemed to be on fire. Burning pain spread from his right shoulder blade over his whole back and made him cry out weakly. Tears were slipping down his cheek and provoked some gloating laughter.

With a hitch he forced his eyes open and his gaze settled on the fire and the guard crouching in front of it again. At this moment Davis drew the rod out of the flames. The oddly shaped end was glowing white-hot. Suddenly Sirius' blood froze as he realised what Davis was holding in his hand.

A branding iron.

With a strangled cry Sirius jerked away, trying to fight off the hands holding him down, but he didn't even succeed in moving an inch. The pain coursing through his body was totally forgotten now, he felt numb and cold in sight of the hot metal. His pulse sped up again, this time threatening to burst his chest. He wanted to scream in fear, in despair, but nothing came out.

Davis, too, vanished out of his field of vision and the hands holding him down clamped hard enough to bruise. He was trembling madly, his whole body was out of his control now and for the agonisingly long seconds he lay there, shocked, stunned and defenceless and waited for the pain.

He reared up with an agonised scream as the white-hot branding iron made contact with his skin. Guards were fighting to keep his trashing figure down on the floor. Every muscle, every sinew he possessed clenched and constricted as fire shot through his veins, burning every fibre of his body. And all he could do was lie there and scream until his throat gave out.

~*~*~*~*~*~

He didn't remember how long it lasted. He didn't know when he had passed out, when the pain had become too much to bear. All he knew was that he was lying on a concrete floor again, cold and hard this one, and that he wasn't able to move. His throat had long since given up and his mind was empty.

He didn't feel himself anymore. He didn't know were he was and what he was supposed to do here. Pictures and fragments of sentences swirled through the cold air around him; they no longer held any meaning. He didn't understand them and he didn't even know if they belonged to him or not.

All he remembered was the pain. The unbearable pain bursting in his chest. The bone-splitting ache when his world had crumbled around him. The uncontrolled hurt when everybody had let him down, when he'd fallen into darkness and nobody had caught him. Pain and grief and regret was all he knew and remembered at the moment.

Right now he was sure – that he was dead.

All right, I hope you enjoyed this, at least a little bit. It's awfully overdue, even though the story it belongs to isn't up yet. This is a prequel/sidestory to "Back to Life", which you'll hopefully read soon as well! Watch out for it!

Now, I'm sure you've got a lot of things to say about it, so let me hear it in your review! Thanks!