A/N: Can you believe it? I'm actually ahead on these. I swear, I can't stop writing these drabbles. This collection might get updated regularly. Woah.
2. sulking
Last night I saw your ghost
pedalling a bicycle with a basket
towards a moon as full as my heavy head...
Tonight, Sirius sulks.
He stares at the empty square window at the top of his cell that is too high for him to reach but too low for him to see the bright moon. But he knows it is full. He can see the pale light that spills across the cell's floor, he can see the stars twinkle, he can sense the shift in the air.
Because, tonight, Sirius is Padfoot.
And, tonight, Padfoot is pining the loss of the wolf, wondering where his pack has gone, sniffing around the cold stone walls for a trace of warmth or familiarity.
He finds none.
So, instead, he curls up in the darkest corner so that the light does not hurt his eyes. He wants to howl to the wolf, but he knows somehow that the wolf is not near. He knows that he must be silent. So Padfoot sulks.
But the moon is full. This is a fact that escapes neither the dog nor the man inside him. The wolf will be alone, snapping his sharp teeth at his own limbs, tearing at his own flesh, and Padfoot will not be there to stop him. Padfoot will not be there to save him.
Padfoot sniffles slightly and covers his snout with his paws. He is so very alone.
He misses the wolf. He mourns the pack. He resents the moon.
Tonight, Padfoot should be running free under that pearly glow, with the wolf in front and the stag nearby and the rat, the rat, the rat...
Padfoot whines.
Perhaps it is better to sleep tonight.
(The wind is the only thing he hears howl for the longest time.)