For days upon days that became Sirius' new mantra. He couldn't say or think anything else. And all he knew was that he had to escape-- absolutely had to, and kill the man that had destroyed his life and killed two of his best friends, who had meant more to him than life itself. He had had no hope for so long- he had thought Peter was dead and there was no one left alive that knew the truth; that Sirius had bailed out at the last second to be James and Lily's secret keeper…therefore there was no hope of clearing his name. It had been the perfect frame. He had been the perfect fall guy. One simple mistake to trust another human being had killed nearly everything that was dear to him.
But he was alive…there was no hope in clearing his name- the minute he even got near a Dementor if he escaped, even if he had a witness with him, would certainly mean his death-- so the only thought, the only dream was to kill him. Slowly, and painfully, with every unforgivable curse there was, and finally be convicted for something he had actually done. It didn't matter what happened to him now. Vengeance was the only real truth in the world, and justice would be served. It was fate that this happened, he repeated to himself with a psychotic grin. And fate has made me its angel of death.
He would laugh - a horrible, mad laugh that frightened the other prisoners and the human guards. In fact they were so frightened they sent back for the Minister and they all watched him in his sleep as he chanted "He's at Hogwarts…" over and over and over again.
The monthly package came on time, but Sirius almost didn't have the mind to open it. It sat there for a day or two, until he finally did open it in his dazed state, ate the small piece of chocolate cake inside and read the very strange note.
"Don't eat anything else from now on until you're small enough as Padfoot to slip through the bars. The dementors won't sense you-- with your life force so weak both from your dog form and eating so little, they will most likely ignore your presence altogether. Leave in the early evening as soon as you can fit through the bars. Follow the moon to the shore and due east until you reach a crossroads. The road sign will say 'Devinshire, 2 miles north.' Head north till you reach Devinshire. In the middle of the town there is a small café with a porch. Turn right and go down the street. I will be waiting for you in the shadows. I have rented a small home there where you can recover your strength. They will expect you to go directly to Hogwarts, which means you will be safe with me until you are ready to travel again.
"And for what it's worth, I'm sorry."
It took him two weeks to starve himself to a point where he could get his head through the bars. He knew the rest of him would come easy after that. He tried to make Padfoot even more scarce than he usually did, only going into dog form when it was within his natural sleeping schedule. The day finally came where he felt rested enough to make the long swim and run-- he had slept all night and nearly all day. It was nearly four o'clock when he awoke from his dream-- a dream involving strangling Peter slowly as he tied him over a large bonfire…
With a start he woke up, very much alarmed, wondering if he had slept through the next night as well. After all, his stress level was very high as he was now on a tight schedule- something he hadn't been on in twelve years. Much to his relief there was only one plate of rotting gruel on his floor that smelled nearly a day old, which meant it wasn't dinner time again. In his alarm he had forgotten his body pain, but it suddenly came rushing back to him, and he groaned softly. Sitting up in bed, clenching his blanket, he soon collapsed against the wall and listened to his own heavy breathing for a while. He couldn't do anything else.
But this was the night. No matter what he was feeling. If he didn't go now, another day or two and he'd probably starve to death…
Even that rotting plate of gruel on the floor looked appetizing to him. Even his hand looked appetizing. During the weeks he had allowed Padfoot to chew a little on the hay around the cell, but it was such a painful thing not to eat it. Such hunger he had never experience before, even in the attempts to kill himself over the years until he finally gave in to eating again, as most of the prisoners did at some point in their sentence. But this time he just kept dreaming about this mystery person and drooling over all the delicious food he or she might have waiting for him…
There was only one thing in the world that made him trust this person, and that was the fact that they knew about Padfoot. That untold secret was only known by marauders; it was a magic blood pact that they all made that their lips would be sealed to anyone else. Sirius had no idea how exactly this person knew, but they must go way back with one of the marauders to know. Even before the blood pact. Or maybe…even a Marauder. And not Peter, because Peter wouldn't risk his safety for such a thing.
No. That was a ridiculous idea. Don't get your hopes up for nothing…
It had occurred to him that it might actually be a friend of Peter's, trying to lure him away from killing him. Or worse, try and kill Sirius after gaining his trust. But right now this person was his only contact in the outside world, and he wouldn't be able to make it on his own. Just thinking about swimming all that way and then running for miles and miles made him feel as if he were going to faint.
It took hours upon hours upon practically forever for the sun to set. Sirius just sat there, waiting, chewing the horrid, crusted-with-blood roots on his fingers where nails used to be. When it was finally dinner time and the dementors took the old plate away and set down the new, he was careful and emptied the contents into his little cement cubby hole. Then as the moon rose, he pocketed his newspaper clippings of Harry, the copy of the daily prophet with Peter in it, folded up his blanket, and took one last look at the tiny place he had lived for so long.
He stared at the moonlight for a long time, as it always made him think of Remus. He tried not to remember those memories he had of their last moments together-- he knew that Remus wouldn't want him to. He would want him to think of the good times. If Remus still cared at all, that is.
Now, quit it. You're getting your hopes up again…
Then he looked carefully at all the writings he had made on the wall, including his large message that adorned the Southern wall:
"Sirius Black died in this cell. He was not guilty. Tell Remus Lupin that I love him."
In a way, the message was still true. But now it was time to clear his head-- even though he was feeling so sick and dizzy that he thought he would collapse any moment. He shook his head hard and as soon as there was snoring in the hallway, he transfigured into Padfoot and spent the next hour squeezing through the bars one body-part at time. Squeezing and squeezing and squeezing delicately, painstakingly. Taking frequent breaks because he was so exhausted and had such little energy to spend. But when he was finally free, he dragged the blanket behind him in his teeth and carefully made his way out of the familiar hallway.
Hugging the walls as best he could, cringing at the delicate sound of his feet clapping against the linoleum and the blanket dragging along behind him, he stepped into a much brighter area. It was obviously where the few humans who worked at Azkaban sat at their desks and twiddled their thumbs (they were kept very far away from the Dementors); there was only Mortimer, sitting in front of the radio, snoring loudly. He knew that the sounds he was making were too quiet for any human to hear, even an Auror, but a dementor would easily hear it and catch him escaping in an instant. He prayed as hard as he could to every God he could think of that he would be able to get out to the main courtyard.
Damn…an iron door, locked. Obviously it led out to the courtyard. Just as he was about to give up hope, he spotted a small vent to the side of the door near the floor, just big enough for Padfoot to crawl through. Sadly, the vent was screwed shut. He would need a screwdriver, or…
Looking very carefully around him, he transfigured back into himself and took the tip of his shoelace in his hand. Using it, he picked at the phillips-headed screw in the vent grating until it slowly began to turn. Happily he grabbed it with his fingers and twisted it as fast as he could; still terrified somewhere in his heart that the Dementors would soon find him and everything would be hopeless.
The vent was open. Quickly he transfigured back into Padfoot and crawled through the vent. The vent was so small that it was extremely difficult for him to drag the blanket along with him, but he refused to leave it behind.
The vent had several small grates, all circling about the bottom of the outside of the walls, facing the courtyard. He kept following it, watching at least a dozen dementors gliding around in the middle of the courtyard, listening, waiting. Waiting for him to make a mistake. He was shaking all over.
As he passed one grate he realized suddenly that it had been a very large mistake to turn into a man, just for that short time. One Dementor had sense his presence and was coming out of the building and into the courtyard to warn the others that something wasn't right. They all spread out immediately and began their intensive search. Sirius decided it would be best if he simply sat tight for a while in the vent, waiting for things to calm down. It took an hour and a half of sitting there on his furry belly in the freezing cold for the Dementors to go back to their normal rounds, and he made a very careful mental note to himself to never, ever turn back into a man as long as he remained on the island or anywhere near it.
The vent, luckily, led just to where he needed to go- the boat dock. There was no one there- only one dementor, who was facing the opposite way. If he lucked out, perhaps he could hug the wall, dive into the water, and turn the corner fast enough so the Dementor wouldn't sense anything strange. It'd hear the splash, but most likely dismiss it as a fish if there were no strong, human-like presences around. It was risky, he had to admit-- but it was his only option.
Amazingly enough, and much to his relief, the screw in this grating was loose. He could turn it with his paw, and soon it popped right out and clinked upon the floor. He was sure the dementor heard it, but it did not turn, meaning it thought nothing of it. And then the moment came. This was it. Open the grating slowly and quietly…that's it…it squeaked a little but it still hasn't turned around…it still hasn't….don't let the vent slam shut, whatever you do!…that's it…lower it down with your tail…
The grating was closed. And Padfoot ran.
The tiny splash that the very light-weight dog made from its very short jump into the water made the dementor turn unnaturally fast to the water. But there was nothing there. It had probably been a fish.
Padfoot swam. He swam as hard as he could, nearly drowning from the weight of the blanket he still struggled carrying in his teeth. He felt the icy water like knives stabbing into him on all sides. He felt fish nipping at his fur and his hind legs, and he prayed very hard that no sharks saw or smelled him. And after what seemed like hours of desperately trying to keep his head above water and moving only a few inches every few minutes, the water became more shallow…and finally he collapsed on the shore, coughing and exhausted with the water-logged blanket next to him.
So hungry. So tired…
Padfoot rolled over on his belly and for the first time in years, he stared at the full, unhindered moon. The last time he had seen it he had been a free, yet hunted man, and he had thought of Remus. And now, once again a free man, yet hunted, he also thought of Remus.
Every single bit of his body hurt. He rolled over on his side and panted, wanting nothing more than to collapse and sleep…but he knew he couldn't. It took every ounce of resolve in him to pick himself up off the sand, now soaked to the bone and covered in muck and dirt. He headed towards the moon, just as his mystery person had told him to. Though he knew it was unwise, his body insisted on taking frequent breaks, especially with the heavy wet blanket having to be dragged along. He hid in the bushes, breathing so heavily that anyone on the main path could have heard him. He couldn't help it. He screamed at himself to stop but he just…couldn't.
Frequently as he walked his legs gave out from under him, his entire body collapsing into the mud. Then, a few minutes later, he'd inwardly scream at himself and he'd slowly get up, moving onward and onward to the crossroads he was looking for.
It must have been at least four or five hours before he reached it. The town, according to the sign, was only a mile away….only one more mile, and he'd be there…
It was the longest mile he had ever traveled. He saw general shapes of houses and lights, but did not recognize them. His eyes were hazing over; everything was so blurry…
The nausea came again. So lightheaded that he couldn't walk strait, Padfoot stumbled into the bushes and threw up some saliva, as that was all he had. He was frightened now-- he couldn't even see, let alone recognize a restaurant in the street. He began to lose all hope when he smelled the distinct smell of sweet, juicy steak. He turned to the right and ran down a dimly lit street. He was hyperventilating now…he was just about to collapse into the dirt…
A sweet, tender voice called out to him. He felt himself…being wrapped in a blanket-- being lifted into gentle arms.
"Oh my God…" the familiar voice whispered. "Hang on, just hang on, Sirius…I've got you…"
He wanted to say something to him. He couldn't even tell if he was a dog or a man-- so he tried to say something, but all that came out was raspy breaths. A blurry vision of the man with sandy brown hair appeared before his half lidded eyes - he shook his head at him and whispered again.
"Hush…go to sleep. Go to sleep now. You did a good job… now you're all done. Its time to let me take care of things now, so don't worry…don't worry anymore. Remus has got you."
"Rem…" Sirius whispered as he transfigured back into a man and collapsed into a haphazard hug with Remus. He kissed him and kissed him and cried as he said "I love you" over and over again.
Remus gave up trying to get Sirius to rest and smiled as he hugged him back.
"Its okay. I…love you too. And I'm…so sorry…"
"No…no. No more sorry. No more."
Remus nodded. "No more."