Gone .

James was dead and gone, and Sirius blamed himself. The rat, and himself. James was gone; Lily, Marlene, Dorcas. All gone. He would never see them again. Although, realistically, he'd probably never see anyone else again either. Not Fawley, not Harry, not Remus, Regulus. Not even the murderous traitor that was Peter Pettigrew. Although, that was definitely good news for the sodding rat. Sirius supposed that had been the plan all along, to get him imprisoned for Peter's crime. It was a good plan. Too good a plan to have come from Peter himself. Nevertheless - he thought, as the tears burned behind his eyes - that treacherous rat deserved to die.

Sirius was alone. He would be alone for the rest of his life, although hopefully, that wouldn't be too long, considering the circumstances. He was starving, and he was cold . It was a different kind of cold, a new one; gloomy and unpredictable. One second he was freezing, and the next he was haunted by his worst memories;

His mother cursing him with unforgivables

Horcruxes brushing against his skin

Chasing down that bloody rat

James and Lily's cold, dead bodies on the floor

She was standing by the cell door, although Sirius was well aware she wasn't real. She was there to haunt him; taunt him. She was his personal ghost, despite being one of the few people in his life that was still alive - at least, he hoped she was. Perhaps that was why it was always her. Because he had no way of knowing for sure - and that was a whole new kind of torture.

Sirius couldn't help wishing it was James that haunted him. What he wouldn't do to see James again, even if he were merely a ghost. And yet, there was no sign of him. James was dead and gone, and it was all because of Peter.

Peter was the traitor, and that hurt more than anything Sirius had ever had to live through. More than his father's apathy. More than his mother's curses. More than Fawley not loving him back. It even hurt more than losing James.

Sirius hurt. Each minute, each part of him hurt. He was already overwhelmed with pain, and for some fucking reason it wasn't enough. It couldn't be enough, because there she stood - by the cell door, as beautiful as ever. As real as ever.

He couldn't tell whether it was the dementors fucking with his head, or if he'd actually lost his mind, but she stood there again, as she always did. She would stand there, talk to him, and eventually, she would break him down. Each fucking time he saw her, it broke him down a little bit more. Whether it was the nice things she said, the terrible things she said, or the horrible things he had to see happen to her. Each time he decided that he wasn't going to fall for it, and yet each time, he failed.

"Sirius, it's me. I've come to take you home. It's over now," she whispered, her voice so soft and gentle that it brought tears to his eyes. What a mockery it was, to place her in front of him day after day, only to remind him he would never see her again. Only like this. Only in horrid mind games made up by either dementors or the madman he'd become.

"Leave me alone!" he cried out into nothingness, at his ghosts - he presumed, although he only ever had the one.

She backed away from the cell door at that, out of the moonlight; out of sight. For a second, he thought it might've worked, but stubbornly, his ghost stepped back into the light.

"Siri… please," she whispered, and he could feel his breath shaking - whether it be from the cold, the pain, or the fucking heartbreak of having her put on display, dangled in front of him like a fucking carrot. It wasn't real.

"You're not real," Sirius mumbled to himself, pressing his hands tightly against his ears to stop that angelic voice from deceiving him yet again.

"Oh, Sirius," his ghost whispered, as she walked closer, knelt down and gently put her fingers around his wrists to remove his hands from his ears.

"I'm real. I swear I'm real," she continued, tears welling out of her beautiful stormy eyes. But Sirius' mind - Sirius' mind was stuck on the soft skin of her fingers, still lingering on his wrists. She hadn't done that before. Every day since they put him in this hell hole, she had come to him, but she had never touched him before. Her skin radiated warmth, and perhaps it was stupid, but Sirius figured a ghost couldn't possibly be so warm - feel so real. Ever since he got to Azkaban everything had been cold; the cell, his skin, the air - even the food. And now, with her fingers on his skin, her soft voice in the air - everything suddenly seemed warmer.

"I'm here. I'm real, and I'm taking you home. Alright? Remus and Regulus are waiting for you, and we're going to get Harry. Everything is going to be alright. You're free, Siri. We got you a trial and they declared you innocent."

"Fawley, is that really you?" he finally managed, voice hoarse and hesitant, as he looked up to meet her teary eyes. She nodded in response and Sirius allowed himself to fall for it again, if only one more time, as he fell into her arms and clung to her as though she were the sun and his hell had frozen over.

–

As Sirius woke up some hours later, he was prepared to brush it all off as a dream - a wonderful, deceitful dream. He was prepared to wake up from all of it; holding her in his arms, leaving Azkaban, and coming back home. He was just about ready to move on from it, if it hadn't been for the warm air, soft sheets, and the familiar, lingering scent of her. It implanted a sense of hope in him; hope that couldn't possibly do him any good. He dreaded opening his eyes to gray cell walls, the small barred window, and the ghosts of his past.

What finally did bring him to open his eyes, was the sound of creaking floorboards. His cell didn't have floorboards. It had cold, cursed tiles - hundreds of years old. The sun blinded him at first, with a brightness he didn't seem used to anymore. When his eyes finally adapted, there she stood, in the middle of the room- his room; sunlight surrounding her like a bloody hale - and he thought he must still be dreaming.

"Sorry, I didn't mean to wake you," she breathed carefully, as if she was worried speaking too loudly might break him, as she set down a tray on the bedside table. "I just… thought you might be hungry."

"Fawley?" he asked, voice hoarse, as he pulled himself up into a seated position, still taking in his surroundings. As he reached out for the sandwich she had placed beside him, only to realize it was real, it all dawned upon him. He was out. "How?"

"Did you really think we would give up on you?" she smiled painfully, sitting down at the foot of the bed. "We've been working day and night. Remus, Regulus and I. They both testified. Lucius did, too. I only wish we'd have been faster; that we could've gotten you out sooner. But it's over now. You're cleared of all charges. All that's left is-"

"Harry. Where is he? Is he here?" His heart was rushing now, his body shaking - full of regret. He shouldn't have gone after that rat. He should've stayed with Harry. And as long as Pettigrew was on the loose, Harry wasn't safe.

"He's living with his aunt. He's safe, for now. We'll go get him, but you need to rest up, and clean up, first."

"Rest? I've done nothing but rest for the past three months; I'm rested. Let's go get him."

"Siri… you need food, a shower, a haircut - a reality check. Look, Remus and Regulus are waiting to see you. They've been keeping tabs on Harry, and if you go there like this - they won't let you leave with him."

"Let me? I'm his godfather, I shoul-"

"Sirius," she mumbled firmly, reaching out for his hand, inflicting a calm on him as she grabbed it and softly rubbed her thumb over his.

"Trust me," she said, and he had no choice but to. She had given him no reason not to. She didn't owe him anything, and yet she had gone out of her way to free him - to save him. He owed her his life, his everything, and he would give it gladly.

"I don't know how to thank you," he managed, shaking his head in disbelief.

"Don't thank me yet."

"What do you mean?"

Squirming, the young woman let go of his hands and got to her feet, only to pace his room.

"I know I have no right to ask this of you," she mumbled, dragging a hand through her hair as she took a deep breath. You can ask anything of me, echoed through his mind - but he didn't manage actually voicing it. Not only did he owe her his life; he loved her. He knew that much. He knew it wouldn't go away, he knew he didn't deserve her - and he knew it wasn't reciprocated. But he would do anything she asked of him.

"It's ridiculous, really. You just got out of Azkaban and there's much more important things for you to do, with Harry and… everything. I just - my birthday is coming up."

Her birthday. Her twenty-first birthday. Sirius knew immediately what that meant. He hadn't thought about that for a long while, but as she reminded him, it all finally made sense. Why she had fought so hard to get him released, so soon. She needed him. She needed him to avoid an arranged marriage. In a sense, it was simply a different form of an arranged marriage; one where she could control it somewhat. He knew she didn't love him, at least - not in that way. How could she possibly? But they were friends, some of the very few that remained. And she needed him. The worst part of it was that he would agree in the blink of an eye, instantly, despite the fact that it would be worse than not having her at all. It was the same kind of irony - mockery - as having her haunt him in Azkaban, to spend a lifetime right by her fucking side, all while knowing that she was painfully out of reach.

"Would you… marry me? Please don't… don't say yes because I helped get you freed. You can… you can absolutely say no, in fact, I wouldn't want you to-"

"Fawley," he interrupted, causing the girl's ramblings to come to an abrupt stop. "It's the least I can do."