Warning ahead for Sirius torture.

Sirius had never given much thought to Azkaban Prison before. After all, he'd grown up a Black, steeped in the knowledge that his family had enough wealth and power to evade most legal consequences. And then when he'd run away, he'd comforted himself with the knowledge that he was a good person who was never going to do anything worth being sent to prison for. So that dreaded island had always been little more than a thought that occasionally passed over his mind. He'd known he'd never end up there.

He never thought he'd be framed, much less for the death of James and Lily. And suddenly now, those dementors that he'd never wasted a second thought on were preying on him day and night. The creatures made you sad, that was what everyone said, that they took away your ability to be cheerful...but Sirius had learned in the past few days that they were stronger than that.

The dementors hadn't taken his happiness from him, they had matched it. All Sirius's cheerfulness, contentment and happiness had been smashed together into a palpable ball, and attached at the other end via a strenuous band was an even heavier counterweight of depression and misery, tugging hard. He could feel it's pull, and found he could barely move in his cell for fear that any pressure would snap that invisible band. Sometime during his stay, he'd laid down on the cement floor to lessen the pressure as more and more weight yanked at his mind, and he'd not stood up since.

Then one instant it stopped. The miserable feelings were still there, lodged painfully in his head, but they had stopped pulling, and an amazing warmth drizzled all over Sirius's body, and for the first time he remembered that he was nearly frozen. Cautiously, he opened an eye and was surprised to see how light it was. The clouds had parted from beyond his tiny window and a thick ray of sunshine was nearly blinding him. He blinked once and then slowly moved his aching hands out from under himself. He pushed himself painfully to his knees and that's when he noticed someone was standing in front of him.

Sirius inhaled sharply. Even sick and delirious from hunger he recognized that long, silver coat.

"Father..." he whispered. He was in no condition to question Orion Black's arrival. His mind was so jumbled that he couldn't even remember how much he hated the man. All he knew in that moment was that his father had brought with him warmth and an end to the dementors' hold. Sirius would have thrown himself at the man if he'd had the strength.

"Glad you've not forgotten me, Sirius," Orion said calmly. "I know how poor a memory you have for family matters."

Sirius creased his eyes in confusion. "Is Mum here?" he asked.

"No, just me."

Sirius wrapped his arms around himself and basked in the gentle tingling feeling of his muscles and joints coming back to life. He smiled. "You've come to get me!" he exclaimed.

"Yes." Orion nodded. Then he drove his knee into Sirius's throat hard. Sirius keened and fell sideways, hands scrambling to cover his trachea. "I'm here to take you back home." Orion continued in a serene voice. He knelt down next to Sirius's twitching body and nudged him onto his back. To his slight surprise he saw that Sirius, while he was now rasping with each breath, was still smiling contentedly.

"You made the dementors go away," he said gratefully.

"I did," Orion agreed.

"I love you," Sirius blurted out, his voice raspy from disuse and from his father's attack. He rolled onto his side and latched one hand tightly onto Orion's sleeve. "Will we go home now?"

Orion swatted Sirius's hand away. "In a few minutes," he promised. "But first, tell me Sirius, do you remember why I have to take you home?"

Sirius stared for a moment, almost mesmerized by his father's face. Those grey eyes staring down at him, somehow both dark and bright—the same eyes that Sirius had seen in the mirror each morning for two decades...Sirius shuddered as an almost painful ripple of warmth brought his legs back to life. Somewhere from the mess of memories and feelings mashed together in his brain, he could feel something start to move, as though the absence of the dementors was allowing his mind to separate back out into clear thoughts again.

"Answer me, Sirius," said Orion in a frustrated tone. "Do you remember why I have to come get you from here?"

"...Yes," Sirius insisted. He shuddered again and rolled back onto his back. "There was a mistake. I'm not supposed to be here. Mum said she would come get me."

"She sent me. She's busy getting your room ready for you back at Grimmauld Place."

"My room?" Sirius asked.

"Yes," Orion said, nodding. "You've not slept in it for nearly five years, Sirius. Do you remember why?"

Sirius blinked in confusion. He tried to think but it hurt too much. Suddenly he was hearing noises he had gone deaf to. He could hear the sea raging against the island, and the wind splattering dead leaves and debris against the stonework of the prison. Somewhere in his cell there was water dripping…

"You ran away, Sirius, don't you remember?"

Sirius flailed a bit but managed to sit up. "Yes," he said suddenly. "I do. I left because...because..."

"Because you were an ungrateful brat who spat on everything we gave you," Orion said angrily. "You betrayed your own family, Sirius, and slunk away like a coward."

Sirius shrank down a bit. Now that he was starting to acclimate to the dementors' absence, he no longer felt giddily warm. In fact, he was starting to notice just how cold it was in his cell. He also noticed that his father had left the door open behind him and that a witch in a guard uniform was standing watch some twenty feet down the hall, a keyring in her hand and her eyes respectfully averted.

Sirius started to shiver. Now there were some clearer pictures in his mind. He remembered screaming, fighting...running away and leaving most of his possessions behind. Suddenly he panicked.

"Mum promised she'd get me out of here!" he said loudly. "She promised. Father, you're bringing me home to her, right?"

Orion pushed Sirius away as he tried once again to cling to him. "In a minute, I said," he snapped. "But I need you to focus first. Do you remember James Potter?"

"Yes!" Sirius screamed. There were tears in his eyes now. "But I didn't kill him, I didn't! I was trying to warn him! I would never have—"

"Do you recall leaving us for him?"

Sirius stared at his father in confusion and Orion waited patiently, watching Sirius squirm. This wasn't all for his own personal vengeance, he needed to break Sirius before he brought him home. Walburga was a skilled manipulator, but things would go more smoothly if Sirius latched onto his parents. Orion could have just taken him home immediately while Sirius was still overcome with his initial gratitude at the departure of the dementors, but Orion knew the connection would be stronger if Sirius could come back to himself before breaking. It would be messy, but infinitely more effective than bringing Sirius home now or even attempting an Imperious Curse.

Sirius wiped frantically at his face. He mumbled incoherently for a while; there were a lot of things rearranging themselves in his mind. Then…something snapped into place.

"I hate you," Sirius said quietly.

"What was that?"

Sirius scrambled backwards, still too weak to stand, he scooted until his back hit the wall.

"You vile old bastard," he hissed. "Haven't you and that harpy tormented me enough?"

"But Sirius," Orion asked sweetly. "Honey, don't you want to come home with me?"

"No!" Sirius spat. "I hate you. I fucking hate you! I won't go back to that place; you can't make me. I'm not like you! I'm better than you!"

"There you are," Orion said with a smile. He whipped out his wand and instantly drew Sirius back to him. Sirius struggled fiercely but he had virtually no strength, and he was so hungry that most sudden movements sent his stomach into a frenzy of cramps. "That's the Sirius I remember."

"What do you want?" Sirius groaned, feeling his heart rate skyrocket when his father seized ahold of him by the throat.

"I'm going to walk out of here with you in a minute, Sirius, and I'm not going to restrain you. I'm going to walk you out of this prison past a whole row of people who are waiting in the main office, and I won't be marching you at wandpoint. Because these people all know that you want to come with me. It's what you want most in the world."

Sirius knew if his father got him inside their house it would all be over. God only knew what they had planned for him. It was looking as if Azkaban was his last chance to escape what would undoubtedly be a terrible fate. Orion saw his son's eyes spinning and knew he was frantically planning.

"So I need you to promise me, Sirius, that you'll follow me out of here willingly, with a fucking smile on your face."

Sirius stared up at his father defiantly, but there was a note of panic in his heart. His memory had settled in full by now, and if there was one thing he remembered clearly, it was that Orion Black was very proper; he only swore when he was about to cause someone a world of pain.

Sirius warily eyed his father's wand, which was pointed directly at his heart. He watched Orion twist his wand a solid ninety degrees and mutter something sinister that Sirius couldn't hear through the pounding in his ears.

Then it was as though a vice had grabbed Sirius's lungs. His blood ran cold and his gaze flickered back to his father's face just as the squeezing started. Sirius felt the invisible vice compress his lungs. He couldn't draw a breath...it was as though a giant snake had him in it's grasp. Orion had let go of him by now. He wasn't even pointing his wand anymore. In fact, Orion had moved away from Sirius—just out of arm's reach—and was watching with disinterest.

The compression wasn't consistent. It would pulsate at times, allowing Sirius just enough freedom to gather maybe a third of a full breath before it bore down even harder. There was black flickering around Sirius's vision. A sharp pain in his lower back began to strike in time with the compression in his chest, and a part of him feared that something in his spine would break. His thoughts were no longer clear. They were still there...just less important. Sirius didn't forget how much he hated his father...but he did start to ignore it. He was dying, feelings were unimportant.

Sirius reached out to his father weakly, but it felt like his arm was pulled back to his chest by a magnet. Any moment his eyes were surely going to pop out of his skull.

Please, he mouthed.

Orion lifted his spell. It took Sirius a moment to realize, and even then he felt he couldn't move. All his joints seemed loosely fitted into place, ready to grind free of their sockets if he so much as twitched.

"There, see? I made it go away, you're okay..." Sirius flinched when he realized his father was stroking his hair. Orion rarely touched. And when he did it had never been anything comforting. Sirius tried to shrug him off.

"Are you ready to go home now?" Orion asked.

"Yes," Sirius said immediately, knowing when to cut his losses. He attempted a weak nod. "I'll do as you say."

Orion nodded, but pursed his lips. "You see, though, Sirius," he said softly. "The thing is...I don't believe you yet."

"No, Father—"

Sirius jolted his fragile body forward, trying to grab his father, but Orion soon had him under the spell again, and this time he took to walking slow circles around Sirius while he suffered.

"You always asked for so much trouble, Sirius," said Orion sadly. "You never knew when to behave. You never learned. Now look at where you've gotten yourself. I love you so much, Sirius, and I want to help you, but I can't yet..."

Sirius's eyes were watering so badly he could no longer see. He jaw had seized up and he couldn't scream, only whine desperately. Every once and a while, Orion would lean down to touch Sirius on the shoulder or the face, and each time, Sirius started and—despite the tight hold of his father's spell—managed to jerk away from his hand.

Then, much later than Orion would have like, Sirius finally showed no reaction to his touch at all. Orion lifted his spell and gave Sirius a moment to breath. Chest heaving, Sirius coughed and sputtered. Orion touched the back of his hand lightly to Sirius's shoulder and this time Sirius flung out both his hands and grabbed Orion by his forearm, pulling for all he was worth. He kept his eyes closed and spoke in sharp, little gasps.

"Please don't. I can't. Please. Please help me. Don't let it. Not again."

"Shh," Orion murmured. "Here, let me get you up." Orion pulled Sirius into a sitting position and let him rest against his chest. That had taken significantly longer than he had imagined. It seemed he had forgotten just how bull-headed his oldest son was. He was a bit proud of Sirius's resolve, even if it was ignoble in nature.

Sirius was done, though. He had no more fight left in him at the moment. Now Orion needed to get him home quickly.

"Stand with me, Sirius," he said five minutes later. "It's time to go home."

Sirius clung to him like a drowning man. Orion managed to prize him off, but then Sirius—shaking and swaying like a drunkard—wanted to hold his father's hand.

"You need to walk on your own, Sirius," said Orion impatiently.

"Don't leave me!" Sirius croaked as his father pulled their hands apart.

"I'm not leaving you, Sirius. I'm right here. Now walk with me."

Sirius was uneasy. The last two times his father had moved away from him, horrible pain had followed, and his body remembered that. When Orion took a few steps forward without Sirius, Sirius could have sworn he'd been cursed again. He nearly fell back down, only narrowly being caught by Orion.

"All right," Orion conceded. He placed an arm across the back of Sirius's shoulders. This had the added advantage of letting him discreetly prop Sirius up. "How is this?"

Sirius still took some convincing not to wrap his own arm around his father's waist, but eventually they started out of the cell. The woman from earlier was long gone. Some of the cells they passed had inmates in them, most of whom were laying limp on the floor, staring up at Sirius with envious eyes.

Then the cold started to creep back. Sirius glanced nervously behind him and saw a grey, fuzzy darkness falling at the far end of the hallway. Now that Orion was leaving, the dementors were returning. Sirius started to hyperventilate and Orion urged him to move faster.

"Here we are, through this door now."

The lights of the office were painfully bright on Sirius's eyes. His vision was so overrun by halos that he hardly noticed who he was shuffling past. He thought a few of them might have said something to him, but he couldn't make out anyone's words. For a brief moment he heard a man walking next to them, talking in low tones with his father. It sounded like Crouch but then again so did a lot of people.

Once they were outside, Orion was nearly dragging Sirius, and as soon as they stepped through the gate, Orion disapparated the two of them home to Grimmauld Place.

The first thing Sirius asked for when his father got him home was Regulus. His brain was such a jumbled mess, but he could remember that his brother wasn't frightening. Regulus was harmless...and weak. Sirius felt like he needed to make sure Regulus was safe. There was some basic instinct he had that said if he'd been hurt, Regulus was surely in danger, too.

"He's in class, dear," Walburga said quietly. "He won't be home until the holidays. Orion, how is he?"

Orion dropped Sirius into a parlor chair. Sirius tried to stand up, but immediately fell back down again, shaking. Orion shrugged his coat off and threw it to the house elf. "All yours," he said briefly.

"Where are you going?" Walburga asked; Orion was heading back towards the kitchen.

"To get some brandy," Orion admitted, not caring that it wasn't even noon. He rubbed ruefully at his arm where Sirius's desperate clawing had left several deep, red marks. "I'll leave you to it. How long do you think this is going to take?"

Walburga tapped the point of her wand. "I'll lay the foundations tonight. Then it's just a matter of adding in the details before anything he's exposed to contradicts them. It's going to be a balancing act."

"Why not just do it all tonight?"

"Because the shock could kill him," Walburga said dryly. Orion's eyes widened and he nodded.

"Call me if you need anything," he said in a tired voice. "If not, I'll be in my study."

"Mum?" Sirius asked softly after his father had left the room. "Where'd Dad go? He said he wasn't going to leave me behind."

"You're home now, Sirius," Walburga said patiently. "Your father's just in the other room."

"Where's Regulus?"

"...at Hogwarts," Walburga said firmly. She pushed Sirius down until he ran the length of the fainting couch, his head tucked against the armrest. His dark, matted hair blended against the black fabric.

Walburga sighed. There was no point in deliberating or procrastinating. Best to leap now get it over with.

"Drink this and close your eyes for me, Sirius..."

Sirius's mind was a beautiful thing. In it Walburga could see echoes of her own and Orion's as well. There was a certain finesse to the way Sirius's memories flowed together that Walburga had not seen outside her own family. Most people's consciousness were stamped together like a patchwork quilt folded over on themselves indefinitely; Sirius, like most Blacks, was more of a woven orb, like a single, silver strand of mind had slithered all along the surface of a sphere and reconnected at its own base. No beginning, no end, no edges.

Walburga touched Sirius's forehead lightly and his eyes rolled back in his head. She ran her wand gently to the base of his skull and pressed, looking closer. Sirius's mind was a marvel to observe, but consequently much more precise to work with. With no sides, it was harder to determine the continuity of memory materials, among other things.

Walburga murmured her words softly, but enunciated them carefully. It wouldn't do now to mispronounce something and snap Sirius's brain in half. She let a string of spellwork fall from her lips with an almost lyrical pace. Sirius convulsed violently and began to pant as his mother's spell gripped at his head and chest. There was something cold falling over his heart…

"Shh," Walburga patted him lightly. While her magic worked, she prodded into some of Sirius's memories. She left most of Sirius's childhood alone, and started instead at his final year at Hogwarts. It wouldn't do to change any memories that involved people who were still living, so she focused on memories of Sirius with James Potter and also times when he was by himself. She shuffled through each solid memory, one at a time, deciding which could remain untouched, which needed minor alterations, and which needed a complete overhaul. It was painstakingly slow going. It was easiest to change things Sirius remembered seeing and hearing, but changing how he had felt was more effective, if draining on Walburga's energy.

When Walburga hit Sirius's graduation ceremony, she watched it several times, carefully re-threading the memory through her grasp to start it from the beginning again and again...she had not been there in person. In the end, she told herself that no part of that memory needed to be altered.

There was a temptation to go further, but Walburga knew better. Sirius had had enough. He was crying, despite his eyes being shut tightly, and his fidgeting was getting worse. If he started to thrash, her grip might falter, and something could break. No physical restraint would be strong enough to keep Sirius as still as she would need him if she were to continue working at that moment, and she certainly couldn't still him with magic. Mental spellwork tended to react badly to other incantations. Slowly, Walburga began to disentangle herself. She let the memories slide from her grasp and tried to stifle her curiosity.

"Walburga?" Orion had returned from his study. His voice drifted softly from the doorway.

Walburga stood from the floor where she'd been kneeling by Sirius's head. "Yes?"

"Did he do it?" Orion asked in an uncharacteristically small voice.

Walburga motioned to her husband to help her lift Sirius from the sofa. He was awake but far from truly conscious. His eyes were wide open again and obviously blind with fear.

"I don't know," Walburga admitted. She stroked Sirius's shoulder the way one might soothe the neck of a skittish horse. "I haven't gotten that far yet..."