Later that evening, Remus sat at his kitchen table nursing one last mug of steamy hot chocolate. He was feeling a bit – itingly./i In spite of all the recent events, something good had happened to him today. He wasn't quite sure what he was feeling.
He finished off his cocoa and set the mug gently in the sink before walking into his neat and tidy bedroom.
There wasn't much in it, but it was comfortable. A bed occupied the center of the room, covered with a homemade patchwork quilt his mother had given him years ago. There was a small, worn nightstand next to it. The old lamp on top of it had seen better times, and was currently the only light on in the dim room. There was also an antique oak writing desk with a matching bureau. Everything was old, but familiar and well-loved and cared for, and gave the room a warm, homey look.
Remus sighed gratefully and slipped into his bed, pulling up the thick quilt for warmth. Sleep engulfed his exhausted mind seconds after his head hit the softness of his pillow.
The darkness of sleep shifted ever so slightly, until a miniscule hole of light shone through. The hole quickly spread, revealing what Remus realized to be a steel gray ocean, waves tossing and roaring like a wild thing.
The stormy skies threw down rain upon the waters in buckets, and the iron clouds raced, chasing the wind round and round in endless circles.
But on closer look, the only thing he could see was not just an ocean.
There was an island, a small one, surrounded by a grayish haze. The waves beat upon the shores ferociously almost as though to destroy the island itself with their terrible might.
The island grew, until you could have touched it. A chill feeling stole over Remus. This place was not right. He didn't know why not but he knew in the very marrow of his bones that it wasn't.
The haze shifted, and revealed the ancient and crumbling stone walls of Azkaban prison.
A deep rotting, rattling breath was drawn into a twisted being close to Remus's left ear. A dementor. A dementor of Azkaban.
Remus shrunk away, panic filling him. No, he couldn't bear to see his worst memories, to have them shoved roughly before him. No. He couldn't bear the pain. It was a wound that still hadn't healed; it had simply scabbed over and grown tough and calloused over the years.
But the dementor looked straight through him, as though he was not there, and he followed its gaze with dread in the pit of his stomach. The door to the prison was open, swinging slightly on its hinges in a breeze, making an almost inaudible but melancholy sound.
Almost on a compulsion, as though he was not controlling himself, but as though it was some other, greater force, Remus walked inside, peering around the gloom, almost afraid of what he might see. He wandered aimlessly through the dead place, searching for something not to be found.
Suddenly he shivered, tingles running down his spine. It was close, so close. He turned around the corner, shrinking away from the sight before him.
There was a cell, one of many he had passed. But this cell was different. The shining light of the half moon shone through the bars and gaps in the stone, making intricate designs on the bare dirt floor.
Lying on the floor, twitching in an uneasy sleep, was a rangy, shaggy black dog.
iSirius/i.
The dog whimpered slightly, and then opened the grey orbs that were its eyes. Standing up slowly, the dog transformed into its true form.
The short days in Azkaban had taken a heavy toll on Sirius. His grey eyes, once filled with laughter and life and mischief, had lost their lively twinkle. A lost and haunted look had taken its place, and it was a poor replacement. His stay had worn him down. Or maybe it was guilt. Already his face was gaunt and morose.
Sirius paced, and suddenly stopped and looked wistfully out at the half moon.
"Moony," he half-whispered, a sad smile playing upon his chapped lips.
Remus felt strange, hearing his old nickname again, for the first time since -
Sirius sighed heavily and resumed his pacing. A jolt of pity and anger washed over Remus. This wasn't right. It couldn't be. Somehow he knew Sirius was innocent. He just knew.
Sirius gazed forlornly at the opalescent moon again. How could he have doubted it?
Sirius dropped to the floor in his dog form, and resumed his restless sleep. But a few short moments later, Sirius began to whine. He woke with a start and jumped up.
"No!" he cried out, almost feverishly. "No. I can't forget them.i I can't/i. Lily and James and Remus and -" he cut himself off sharply. "I can't forget."
He paced again, distraught. The destructive powers of the dementors had already begun to sap the memories of the happiest years of his life, the only cheerful memories he had.
"I can't forget them. I'm innocent. I can't forget them. I won't!" he shouted desperately!
The scene grew smaller and smaller as Remus was pulled away by an unknown force, until he woke up with a start, gasping for breath, the first rays of dawn just touching the sky.
Sirius iwas/i innocent.
Remus looked out at the dawn, wrapped up in the tangled threads of thought.
He wasn't quite sure how he knew it, but he knew. Sirius was innocent; none of the things he had been blamed for were true.
iDamn government,/i, he thought. They didn't know Sirius as he did.
The thing was, he had no solid evidence. He couldn't prove it; therefore no one would believe him. Stupid, stupid people.
He sighed. For now he would have to bide his time, as much as he wanted to do something – anything.
In the meantime, however, he now had a job, he remembered, feeling a bit happier.
Remus clambered out of his bed and headed to the kitchen to wake himself up with a hot chocolate.
He sipped the scalding liquid carefully and sat on his front step and watched the sun rise.