'Sirius.'
'Remus!' He shouted, slamming out of his seat and banging heads with James. Cursing, James reeled away, holding his nose which had rapidly begun to drip blood. Several girls who had been coming down the stairs giggled nervously and rushed from the common room. It was morning. James had been trying to wake Sirius for at least ten minutes and what did he get? A bloodied nose.
'We're leabin'.' He said thickly and stormed away, Peter in tow.
Sirius didn't bother to stop him, too angry with himself for falling asleep and missing Remus returning, irritated that he was now going to be late and going to miss breakfast, and also in a lot of pain round his left eye. He didn't make matters any better for himself when he tore his schoolbag zipper and kicked his trunk in frustration.
It was quarter past nine by the time he was ready and then he forgot which class he was suppose to be in, bringing him to the greenhouses instead of classroom eleven (Transfiguration). All in all it hadn't been a brilliant start to the day. It only got worse when he received another detention from McGonagall, a very icy glare from James (who had already had his nose fixed) and the realisation that Remus was not in class. The fact that the girl's who sat in front informed him that a black eye was not in the slightest attractive only made his temper flare earning him another detention. The morning passed in a tiring, distracted blur involving many points lost on his behalf and the delights of almost being eaten by a squible (a highly-unpleasant, carnivorous creature they were studying in Care of Magical Creatures) . James and Peter didn't talk to him all day and there was still no sign of Remus. By the end of the day Sirius was ready to jump off the Astronomy tower. He knew there was only one cure for blues like this; Quidditch. He shouldered his broom and stalked out of the common room, leaving James and Peter behind.
He kicked off from the ground and instantly felt better. He flew higher and higher. The wind rushing through his hair, the knowledge that he was in control-but not for long it would appear. His broom began to buck and twist, like an animal out of control. If he had been less concerned about falling off he may have seen the greasy shadow of Severus Snape slinking away but as it was he was a little bit more concerned about falling. Soon he was unable to hold on anymore and he fell.
He didn't cry out however and the only thought to travel through his mind was, oh well, before he came into harsh contact with the ground and then he didn't think about anything more.