Sirius Black took another sip. He should stop. He should have stopped a bottle ago. The vodka tasted like shit, but he had run out of the good stuff. Tomorrow, Molly would yell at him, Remus would shake his head sadly while putting him in the shower, but at the bottom of the bottle, he would find oblivion. For a few blessed hours, he would forget about his brother's murder, about his friend's betrayal, about the dementors, the nightmares, the guilt, the fact he was still locked in his childhood madhouse… He would forget his own name, in a blissful drunken stupor. He knew he shouldn't, but right now, it seemed well worth it.