Sirius was completely confused; he didn't know what was going on. His memory had gotten really weird; everything was all hazy and hopelessly jumbled up. The night before had been his infuriating encounter with Snape, and he was so out of sorts upon returning home that he had gone right to bed. Lily had tried to bribe him to come hang out with her and watch some muggle movie, but not even pizza was enough to restore Sirius' spirits. After mumbling about bad days andhaving a headache, Lily had handed him a cup of water andsome aspirin and let him go and rest in peace, a gesture Sirius had been thankful for.
This morning, he remembered had begun by Lily had woken up earlier than him, again, as usual. She had leaned over him when he was still in bed, gently shaken him awake, her long hair just barely brushing his face. She had told him that she was going to work and then would run some errands but she would be back before dinnertime, and that they had more than enough to order pizza that night. She had asked him if he was planning on going anywhere, and he had grunted a 'no', and told her that James had owled to let them know that couldn't come that afternoon but would later that night. So Lily had smiled and left in a good mood, humming a song to herself, and he had gone back to sleep.
He had woken up sometime later; the sun was just setting when he had gotten out of the shower. Hungry, he had padded into the kitchen, removed a generous chunk of the white frosted chocolate cake James' mother had made for them, from the fridge and put it on a plate. He had then proceeded to make a cup of coffee, and while it was brewing, he had brought the Daily Prophet in from the hall and begun to read the latest story about Voldemort, when his coffee had finished. He had poured the coffee into a mug then added his favorite ingredient to it—maple syrup—and brought it over to join the cake and newspaper on the countertop. And that was when everything went wrong.
Standing back out in the living room, leaning on the counter, he had just taken a bite of cake when the mother of all headaches hit him. An intense pain flared up in base of his neck and traveled upwards, until it felt like someone was splitting his skull open with a sledgehammer. He remembered crying out in pain, grasping at his hair, rubbing his temples, pressing his palms into the sides of his head, even hitting himself to try to stop the pain or at least divert his attention away from it. There was a bright flash of blue light…the pain intensified until he couldn't see…he threw out his hands, clearing the countertop of his meal…he heard the sound of glass shattering…thick, syrupy coffee burned his hands…and that was when his memory of that morning and the flat stopped, and he was…here.