First-person rambling Sirius-in-Azkaban fic? Why yes.
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They say your schooldays are the best days of your life, right? Bang on, that. Sometimes I think they were the only days of my life, everything else was sort of irrelevant. When you've known someone like James, you can't be alive any more when he's gone. Everything fades. Or it's too long in Azkaban or too long with dog's eyes, but I don't see red and gold any more.
It's all wrong, you know, like something went wrong and we should be able to start again, except we can't so what's the point? I think there's a point somewhere but sometimes I can't remember what it is, and sometimes I remember Harry and I think he must have grown and sometimes I remember Remus and I wonder if he's grey yet and sometimes I remember Peter ...
Sometimes I remember Remus and I wonder if he's grey yet, and how many years it's been. No-one tells you when no-one visits, and no-one's visited for years or days or months ... it must be more than days, it must be more than months, it feels like it, but you can never tell, it's always cold. Remus visited once and I don't know how long I kept shouting after him when he left. Past hoarse. He never came back. I think one day he must ...
He can't think I did it. He can't. He knows I never ... I don't think I could lie to James if I wanted to. He knows that. He can't think I did it, but his eyes were so sad ... I remember those, although I'm not sure what colour they were any more. I remember they were sad, like nothing I've ever seen. Like he was holding back tears because if he cried he could cry forever and the tears would still be coming. I know Remus used to smile sometimes, even though he had grey hairs at twenty, but I can't remember what that looked like. I reckon I should be able to, or the colours ... No, I remember the Mark in the sky, burning green, that was green. But Remus's poor sad eyes ...
James's poor dead eyes, they were open, and the Mark was shining through the window. Made his eyes look green, but I think they were grey. Or brown. He used to be the centre of my world and I can't remember how he looked when he was smiling, ain't that awful? I think it's here. You know they say dead eyes are glassy but I reckon that's what they say who've only seen stuffed animals 'cause the eyes in them are actually glass, y'know? James's eyes were like alive, but you could tell he wasn't. That green danced in them, from the reflection of the Dark Mark, but if you didn't know it was that, if you had your back to the window, it looked like Avada Kedavra was lingering in his eyes. Gloating, like. That's what the Mark was, though, wasn't it?
Sometimes I expect it to be there, you know. I think I'll roll up my sleeve and it'll be there laughing at me. It's not, of course it's not, but it's getting so I worry ... I think what if I'm wrong and I did it, what if it's all in my head, what if those years where it was good and bright and warm never really happened and who I was is who I am and Remus is right to look so betrayed.
I never would, though, never, I was like them but I changed. James made everything right, him and Remus and ...
I changed and everything was colourful. I wasn't like Regulus. They disowned me 'cause I wasn't. I wasn't like him. I changed.
I want to see red and gold again, but I'm not sure my eyes will let me any more.
