Disclaimer: This world and all its characters belong to JK Rowling. I wrote this purely for entertainment purposes, and have no wish to sell, copyright or otherwise claim any of this content.

Sirius sat in the corner of his cell, trying to understand how things had gotten out of hand so quickly. When Mad-Eye had said he would be taken straight to Azkaban, Sirius hadn't thought he'd meant literally. He'd thought he would be taken to one of the Ministry holding cells first to be questioned. Apparently, they thought he would be able to thwart Ministry security and escape. They were probably right too, Sirius had to admit. At least in school, he and James had been able to get out of almost any situation, and during his training as an Auror Sirius had made sure to learn the Ministry inside and out.

A dementor glided past, and Sirius closed his eyes, holding his breath. He had discovered that that seemed to help. Even so, he could feel the cold crawling under his skin, and the dementor's rattling breath start to leach the hope and happiness out of him. He hated dementors – whenever they came near, he couldn't help but remember some of the worst moments of his life….

Lily on the floor, her red hair pooled around her terrified face like blood.

A phoenix patronus swooping into the room: "Come quickly. Potter Manor is under attack."

James sitting in his flat, bleeding and grief-stricken and terrified.

The dementor passed and Sirius took a deep breath, clenching his fists and trying to push the memories out of his head. He couldn't focus on something happy – that would only draw the dementor near him again. He tried to think of James, that James needed him. The only problem was that he couldn't actually do anything about that, which only made him feel helpless. What about Peter? Wormtail was a bloody traitor, and he needed to be caught. He should be here instead of Sirius. Sirius was innocent. Wasn't he? Hadn't he been the one to suggest the switch, to suggest Peter? So in the end, wasn't it his fault after all? Sirius let out a quiet groan. None of this was helping.

In the cell across from him, an emaciated witch was tracing her finger in the dust on the floor. Every once and awhile, Sirius noticed she would jolt up into a stiff, alert position. These actions didn't seem to be related to anything, or at least not as far as Sirius could see. They were completely random, and a second later she would relax and go back to tracing her finger in the dust like nothing had happened. She started up now, and Sirius watched her warily. He wondered briefly why she was in Azkaban, but was more curious about why she acted the way she did.

"Hey," he called. She didn't look up. "Hey, excuse me."

"Give it up," a new voice said. Sirius looked up, surprised, and saw a young guard leaning against the wall a few cells down. "She's mad. All of them are, and soon you will be too."

"I don't doubt that she's mad," Sirius said, getting up and walking to the door so he could have a better view of the guard he was talking to. "However, I myself have intention of losing my sanity."

The guard shook his head. "You see?" he said. "You're mad already. The longest anyone's kept their sanity in this place is two months."

To his surprise, Sirius found himself laughing. "Two months? Well then, I'll make sure to be out of here before two months are passed." Personally, he couldn't imagine being here longer than two weeks.

The guard's mouth twisted. "You still think you're getting a trial, don't you?"

Sirius stiffened, frowning. "What do you mean?" he growled.

The guard gave him a sympathetic look that made Sirius' stomach sink. "What do you mean?" he demanded again, louder this time.

"The Ministry is corrupt, that's what I mean. You're Sirius Black, right?" Sirius nodded. "You sold the Potters – you're best friends – to the Dark Lord, leaving their son an orphan. You're in league with the Dark Lord, and because you're a pureblood you are a Death Eater. That means that you have probably taken part in many other attacks of which there is no proof against you, but of which you are guilty nonetheless. Normally, you'd have a trial at which you'd be found guilty, and given a life sentence in Azkaban. But then there's the fact that you're a Black, and the Black family is notoriously Dark. Usually, this isn't a problem because the older pureblood families tend to be rich and it's of more benefit to the Ministry to hold a trial because the accused will try to pay their way out. You, however, were disowned and so have no substantial money or inheritance while your mother and brother are still alive. So why waste time and resources giving you a trial when you're obviously guilty and have no money to pay your way out?"

Sirius gaped at the man, speechless. Finally he managed to ask, "What happened to innocent before proven guilty?"

The guard shrugged. "Actually, I think that would be the Dark Lord. You see, with so many of his followers being caught every day, the Ministry doesn't have time to give everyone a fair trial."

"But I'm a Gryffindor!" Even as he said it, Sirius knew he was being childish, but he couldn't help it.

The guard's teeth flashed white in the gloom. "And I'm a Hufflepuff. What are the odds?"

They were interrupted by a shriek that came down the hall and moments later dissolved into hysterical laughter. Sirius glanced apprehensively down the dark corridor, and in the corner of his eye he saw the guard smile. What kind of man smiles and holds conversations with prisoners in a place like this?

"Hear that?" the guard asked. "That's the sound of insanity. Every hour it gets closer to the sane, creeping up one cell at a time. From the sound of it, it'll get here in about five days. So hold on to your sanity all you want, Sirius, but in the end it won't matter: you'll be as mental as the lot of us."

Sirius stared at the man, shivering in the sudden cold. Wait, cold? Staggering back, Sirius sank against the stone wall, hugging himself and closing his eyes against the memories as a dementor drifted up to his cell.

"You're a Black, and the Black family is notoriously Dark."

"You still think you're getting a trial, don't you?"

"You sold the Potters – your best friends – to the Dark Lord, leaving their son an orphan."

The cold faded and Sirius looked up, still shivering. The guard was nowhere in sight. "Wait," he called hoarsely, pulling himself to his feet. "Come back!" No answer, except for the mad cackling coming from down the corridor.

"So hold onto your sanity all you want, Sirius, but in the end it won't matter: you'll be as mental as the lot of us."

Boy-Who-Lived Found Missing!

Harry Potter, now known to the wizarding world as the Boy-Who-Lived, was transferred to a safe, unspecified location after he single-handedly defeated He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named. Albus Dumbledore, the Headmaster of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, assured concerned citizens that the strongest protections had been placed around the residence of this war hero. Said enchantments and protections seem to have failed, however, as this morning he has been reported missing. We fear that he may have been kidnapped by Death Eaters wishing to take revenge after the fall of their Lord. Any information on the whereabouts of the Boy-Who-Lived will be gratefully rewarded at the Department of Magical Law Enforcement, the Department of Magical Accidents and Catastrophes, or the Department of Management and Control of Magical Children. We must all hope for the safety of this hero of the Wizarding War, and hope that he has not fallen into the hands of the vengeful followers of He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named.

James awoke slowly, blinking drowsily in the mid-morning sunlight. A small part of him wanted to go back to sleep, to just sink back into oblivion, but the other part knew that he had to get up. There was a lot to be done today, and he had already slept through half of the morning.

Blinking his eyes open, he panicked for a second when he realized that Harry was no longer in his arms, then relaxed when he heard Harry's voice coming from a different room. Pushing himself up, James tried to listen to what Harry was saying, then realized that he was speaking gibberish. Harry would do that for hours on end sometimes, and neither James nor Lily had ever been able to figure out what he was talking about.

Swinging off the couch and onto his feet, James winced at how sore he was. He really shouldn't have Apparated as much as he had in the past two days. Walking towards Harry's voice, he found himself in Remus' room, where Harry was sitting on Remus' bed. Remus was propped on one elbow, still under his covers but listening attentively nonetheless. He looked up as James entered and smiled slightly. "He's been doing this all morning," he said, gesturing to Harry.

James walked over to the bed and sat on the end, legs crossed. "What've you been telling Uncle Moony about, little man?" Harry instantly turned his attention to James, his voice and accompanying gestures becoming more animated. As usual James tried his best to understand and, as usual, he failed miserably.

James and Remus sat watching and listening to Harry for a while, and it was some time before James realized that he could almost pretend that it was a normal day, that Lily was working and he and Remus were tasked with watching Harry. In a couple of hours, he would take Harry home and prepare dinner, and then Sirius would come over and tell James everything that had happened in the Auror Office that day – James sighed. Leaning forward, he ruffled Harry's hair. "Keep going, kiddo. I'm going to make breakfast, Uncle Moony will fill me in."

Harry paused and looked up at James, who felt a pang as their eyes met. Would he always be reminded of Lily when he looked at Harry? Pushing himself up, he glanced at Remus, who was looking at him questioningly. James swallowed. "Stay here. I'll bring breakfast when it's ready." He fled the room.

In the kitchen, James started blindly hunting for something to make. He needed a distraction, and he needed to pull himself together. He couldn't keep falling apart, especially not when he looked at Harry. Finding some eggs, he started Remus' stove with a wave of his wand, then tucked it into his back pocket before making the eggs the muggle way. It was something Lily had done every time she needed to be distracted, and it was a habit he had also picked up once she taught him how.

Twenty minutes later, James loaded a tray with two plates and one bowl of scrambled eggs and brought it into Remus' room, where Remus had dressed and was now casting glowing bubbles for Harry to catch. "Harry," James said, taking a seat on the bed and passing a plate to Remus. "Come and eat something. I made it special, just for you."

"Unca Mooey, mowa, mowa!" Harry ignored James. Remus grinned, placing his wand on the bedside table and gently directing Harry towards James. "Not now, Harry. Now it's time to eat."

They ate in silence until Remus finished and pushed his plate aside. "So," he said. "We need a way to get Padfoot out of Azkaban."

James nodded. "I'm not sure how.… "

"What if we told Dumbledore that you were alive? We wouldn't have to tell everyone, just him. He would make sure Sirius got a trial, and that he was found innocent."

Immediately, James felt a panicky feeling start to build up in his chest. He knew that it was irrational, but every time James thought of his old headmaster he thought of the endless fighting, the broken Fidelius, and the prophecy which had painted a target on his child's back. Dumbledore was a good man and a powerful wizard, the only man Voldemort had ever feared. But danger and death shadowed his footsteps as much as they had Voldemort's, and right now James needed to focus on being safe and keeping Harry alive. Dumbledore wasn't an option right now. "No. I'm sorry, Remus, I know that would be the easiest option. I just can't."

Remus stared down at his hands folded in his lap, thinking, while James piled the empty plates on the tray and set it aside. Harry rolled onto his back and started talking again, pointing to random spots on the ceiling.

"An dare's dat one, an dat one, an dat one – "

"We need to get in somehow," James said, watching Harry. It was like planning a prank, he thought. Slip in, slip out, and no one will know you're there until you're gone. "Then I'll switch places with Sirius. I'll be under the polyjuice potion, and once it wears off I'll yell for a guard. They'll let me out because I'm me, and I'll obliviate them and come back here."

But Remus was already shaking his head. "No, that won't work. First off, they're likely to think that you're a Death Eater pretending to be you. Secondly, you know that we're not allowed to bring wands into Azkaban, so you wouldn't be able to obliviate anyone. They'd probably call in Dumbledore or the minister or someone anyway, and you've already said that you don't want that."

"Well then how do you suppose we should do this?" James asked mulishly. Remus didn't say anything, and James was left staring angrily at his hands which were clenched in his lap. Every second they argued about a rescue plan was a second longer that Sirius was in Azkaban. James and Sirius had both been to Azkaban as part of Auror training, and James could still remember how the dementors had affected both of them, but Sirius in particular. He had been quiet and broody for a full two days afterwards, and it had taken James, Remus and Lily combined to get him to snap out of it. Peter had been sick. He's been sick a lot recently, James realized. He shook his head. Focus. One friend at a time. "Sorry," he muttered.

"Well, now that I think about it, that actually might work," Remus said thoughtfully. "Not the you part," he said hastily as James looked up in surprise. "The switching part. Maybe we could… I don't know, get someone who should be in Azkaban, or someone who would be let out immediately if they were discovered." James raised an eyebrow, and Remus sighed. "All right, fine. No one would be released immediately because they'd be under suspicion and no Death Eater would willingly go to Azkaban."

"Dada, ways Unca Padoo?"

James looked down to see that Harry was sitting up, looking worriedly at him. When James paused, trying to figure out how to answer, Harry's frown deepened and he turned to Remus. "Ways Unca Padoo?" he asked, his voice escalating with each word.

"Uncle Padfoot's in Azkaban, Harry," James said. "That's a bad place where he shouldn't be, and Uncle Moony and I are trying to figure out how to get him out." James sighed, reaching out to ruffle Harry's hair. "Got any ideas, little man?"

"Maybe we could use the invisibility cloak," Remus said suddenly, his eyes on Harry. "You said Dumbledore has it now, but I could get it back without raising suspicion. We could sneak in that way –"

"That's brilliant," James breathed, staring at Remus. "We'll both go in, cover Sirius with the invisibility cloak, and walk straight back out. I can transfigure something to look like Sirius so the guards won't get suspicious, and the dementors …" here James paused, frowning.

"You know," Remus said after a moment of silence, "Maybe they won't notice anything at all. That cloak's special, you know."

James looked at him, confused. "Well yes, invisibility cloaks aren't exactly commonplace, especially not good ones –" but Remus was already shaking his head. "That's not what I meant," he explained. "I mean whenever you or Sirius put on that cloak, you actually disappeared. Sometimes I could tell that you were in the room, but for example if you accidentally made a noise, I could never pinpoint it. I think that cloak doesn't just conceal the wearer: it conceals their very existence."

James frowned again, but then it dawned on him what Remus was suggesting. "So you think that the dementors won't be able to find Sirius under the cloak?"

Remus shrugged. "It's just a theory, but yeah, I do."

They talked for another hour, discussing the finer points of their plan. When Harry started crying, James stood, taking him into his arms. "Time to change his nappy," he grimaced apologetically at Remus.

Remus stood, picking up the empty breakfast tray that still sat on the bed. "I should go, anyway. We've got most of the plan figured out anyway, and the sooner I get the cloak the sooner we can get Padfoot out of Azkaban."

Sirius paced the perimeter of his cell, counting the steps. One, two, three, four, five, six, seven, turn. One, two, three, four, five, six, seven, turn. Even though it had only been five days, it felt that the dementors had somehow permanently entered his head. Although he didn't like to admit it, it was getting harder and harder to keep the hope that he would get a trial, that surely he wouldn't be here for the rest of his life.

One, two, three, four …

Harry crying in the ruined house, blood running down his face.

Five, six, seven, turn …

James' haunted eyes on him. "They're dead. It's your fault they're dead."

Sirius shook his head, trying to dislodge the thoughts. That wasn't even a memory, James hadn't said that.

That doesn't mean he doesn't blame you. You suggested the switch.

I didn't sell him to Voldemort!

You as good as. This is all your fault.

Shut up! Focus, Padfoot. Sirius lengthened his strides. One, two, three, four, five, six, turn. He needed to focus, find out how to contact Dumbledore, convince him that he was innocent. I need to get out of here, I need to find James, he needs help.

James covered in blood, sagging against Sirius and begging to be taken to Harry.

"Black, you have a visitor."

Sirius looked up from his pacing, surprised to see one of the guards and another man standing outside his cell. Frowning, he tried to remember if he had ever seen the man before. Probably at some Ministry meeting, he decided. Or maybe they had been at school around the same time. Even so, he couldn't think of a reason for anyone to be visiting him. Crossing his arms, he leaned against the wall and mustered what he thought must be a fairly convincing grin. "What can I do for you?"

"Sir, if you wouldn't mind." The strange man looked pointedly at the guard, and Sirius felt a jolt in the back of his mind. I know who that is! But he still couldn't place it. Scowling, the guard turned and walked down the corridor. "You have fifteen minutes," he called over his shoulder.

As soon as the guard was gone, the man turned to Sirius, who was still trying to figure out who he was. They stood in silence for a minute, and Sirius got the feeling that the man was waiting for him to recognize him. Annoyed, Sirius said, "Well, are you going to tell me your name? You obviously know mine, since I assume you don't just go around visiting random prisoners."

The man's mouth twitched. "Really, Padfoot? Well, I guess it was always you and James who used polyjuice potion. I never much liked it."

Sirius jerked upright, staring. "Moony?" In one stride he was standing in front of the man. "Swear."

"I solemnly swear that I am up to no good. Listen, Padfoot, I – "

"What's my favorite animal?" Sirius interrupted. He had to be sure.

"A big, black, shaggy dog that looks like a bear. Now listen, because we don't have much time. You take these." The man who was Remus shoved a bundle into Sirius' hands, and Sirius was shocked to discover that it was James' invisibility cloak. As he held it out before him, two chocolate frogs and a rock tumbled out.

"You eat the chocolate. I need you awake and alert for this to work. The rock is timed to transform in ..." Remus looked down at his watch. "three minutes. Shit, I thought we'd have more time."

"So talk faster," Sirius said dazedly. He was still recovering from the shock of seeing Remus standing before him, and in the back of his mind he wondered if this might be a dementor-induced hallucination.

"Right. Just before the rock transforms, you start yelling at me – they think I'm your lawyer, so make something up. Hopefully that guard will come running with some dementors, and they'll let one in. This will be the hardest part, because you have to let the dementor back you into the corner where that rock is, then I'll distract the guard and you'll cover yourself with the cloak and slip out. The guard will think that the rock is you, collapsed in the corner, and won't think twice about it. It's pretty straight forward from there – you follow me out, we smuggle you across the water, and then once I get my wand back I'll take you in Side-Along apparition to my house. Now, we've got one minute before that rock transforms." Taking a deep breath, Remus looked Sirius in the eye and said "This is going to work."

Sirius mustered a weak grin. "Of course it is."

Remus' mouth twitched, then he squared his shoulders and raised his voice. "Black, be reasonable."

"I'm not not bringing my family into this!"

Almost immediately, the guard that had escorted Remus in re-appeared, his wand raised slightly. "What's going on?"

Sirius' hand shot through the bars of his cell and he grasped Remus' shirt, pulling him roughly against the bars. "You're a fool," he hissed, "if you think that –" suddenly the temperature plummeted, and Sirius stumbled backwards as two dementors appeared. "Subdue him," the guard ordered, casting a patronus. "Mr. Lewis, if you would come behind me."

The door opened and Sirius backed into the corner where he had tossed the rock, trying to block out the dementors' effects. This will never work, they're sure to catch on – then it will be both me and Remus is here – Shaking, Sirius crouched and buried his face in his hands, using the motion to conceal the fact that he was stuffing one of Remus' chocolate frogs in his mouth. Miraculously, this cleared his head somewhat, although it didn't have the usual warming effect. He was actually shivering from cold now.

"Who's screaming?" Sirius realized that this was Remus, sounding both confused and frightened. "Black's not, look at him. Who's screaming?"

Realizing that this was his distraction, Sirius quickly pulled the cloak over his head just as he got knocked forward into the dementors by the rock expanding behind him.

"I don't think it should be me."

"Why not?" James looked confused and hurt, and Lily too looked as though she'd like an explanation. To Sirius, though, it was clear. How could they not see it?

"It shouldn't be me," he repeated, leaning forward across the dining room table. "Think, Prongs. Who's your best mate? Who's the person you would trust with your life? With, Lily's, with Harry's? Me. I know that, you know that, Dumbledore knows that. Malfoy knows it, Bellatrix knows it, Voldemort knows it. So who are people going to come after when they figure out you're under the Fidelius?"

James looked uncertain. "Sirius –"

Sirius held up a hand, smiling crookedly. "No, listen. They'll come after me. I know that, and if that were the only thing that might happen I wouldn't hesitate. You know I'd do anything for you and Lily and Harry. But ..." Sirius took a deep breath. He couldn't quite believe he was about to say this, but it had to be said – even if it made him look like anything but the Gryffindor that he was. "I'm afraid. I'm afraid that I'll get caught, and that they will force me to tell them where you all are. I couldn't live with myself, knowing that you had trusted me and I had betrayed you."

"They'd never be able to make you, Sirius. I know you, you're stronger than that."

"But I don't know that, and that's what makes me scared. So I can't be your Secret Keeper. But listen. Let's have Peter be Secret Keeper. We can trust him, and then when Voldemort comes after me, I won't be able to tell him anything, because I'll have nothing to tell. But he won't know that. You'll be safe."

"We would have been safer with you. It's your fault, Padfoot. Your fault Lily's dead."

Sirius opened his mouth to protest as the scene swirled around him. "I tried, I know, I'm sorry! Prongs, I'm so sorry!"

"Your fault," the words swirled around him, cloaking him in a blanket of blame and he was falling, falling. "Your fault, all your fault, Sirius Black!"

No! I'm getting out, I'm going to help, I'm going to make up for it. I need to focus.

Focus.

Sirius blinked, and realized that the dementors were retreating. Panicked, knowing that the door would lock again as soon as the dementors were out of his cell, Sirius pushed himself shakily to his feet and staggered to the door, slipping out just as the guard reached forward to swing it shut. Sliding to the ground in the dim corridor, Sirius took a minute to catch his breath. In, hold, out quietly. In, hold, out quietly. Carefully, trying to not crinkle the wrapper, he shakily unwrapped his last chocolate frog and stuffed it in his mouth, sighing as his mind cleared somewhat and he felt slightly warmer. Climbing to his feet, Sirius carefully arranged the cloak so that it wouldn't easily come off or slip sideways. Now, Padfoot. Time to leave.