February Song

Part I

February 2007

A/N: Well. You know the story behind this…there you go. ONCE AGAIN I STRESS THAT IT IS MILD.

There are no warnings other than the above, if not for HBP spoilers. And even if I might be starting to like this couple, SOME THINGS ARE JUST WRONG BECAUSE QUITE HONESTLY THAT IS DISGUSTING. (It’s a K+ rating. You know what I mean. If you don’t, then that’s good. I admire you.)

Disclaimer: I don’t own the song, “February Song” by Josh Groban. (Shut up, I know I know, I’m obsessed.) I also don’t own Harry Potter. If I owned Harry Potter…I’D BE WRITING THE FREAKING SEVENTH BOOK, not some slashy fanfiction!

Now, on with the show.

XXX

Where has that old friend gone?

Lost in a February song

Tell him it won’t be long

‘Till he opens his eyes

Opens his eyes

Haunting sharp grey eyes stared at the bars, not taking in totally what had happened. It was, after all, such a blur…a dark, grey blur, a blur he did not like to dwell on because of the emotions it brought.

He wasn’t sure how he had arrived here, did not remember the trip. Images flashed through his mind as he continued to stare unseeingly at the bars, his containment, although – and he laughed dryly – he had neither the will nor the strength to be able to fight back, with or without the bars there. They were merely for decoration, he supposed.

Images flashed by once again and he tried to shake his head to relieve himself of them, though it didn’t quite work. Images of a laughing messy-haired man and a pretty, bright-faced red-haired woman…a tiny baby with a tuft of black hair…a man with tawny, light brown hair…

He stopped. No, he wouldn’t go there.

…Not yet, anyway.

The grey eyes broke themselves from the bars to stare blankly at the window. Yes, the window – even in his state of distress and unawares he had been surprised that his cell had a window. A large window, at that. Perhaps they wished to taunt him with the clarity of the morning air.

The crisp breeze that tended to waft in this time of day reminded him of February. A certain day in February, actually.

A day he did not really want to remember but the memory seemed to come up on its own, and how was he to argue with his own mind? He had not been here long enough for that.

The thin man with the wan smile on his face, the already slightly graying hair and the shabby robes…his birthday just happened to be in February.

This same man had also been his first visitor, not to mention his last…unless you counted the dementors, but honestly they were quite horrible company.

But they always allowed him to remember that one thing, about that visit. He could only remember the harsh coldness of those amber eyes as they looked down on him in disdain. He had clambered up upon sight of the man, gripping the bars with his unwashed hands, pleading those eyes to melt and become the golden ones he had loved to look into.

But they had not, and thus they were the very same thing as his eyes being closed…

Something he had hated, when they had been a little younger. A little younger, and not so…hardened by war. By Dark things. By life itself.

But even as his grey eyes caught sight of a bird so far in the distance he questioned its actual existence, he knew that he would not live the rest of his days in this prison. No…the bars might hold him in now but they would not forever. He had people to protect.

Yes, that was it. People to protect. Not to see, not to convince. To protect.

Where is that simple day?

Before colors broke into shades…

And how did I ever fade,

Into this life

Into this life

He stood up, his joints creaking. Twenty something years he may be but his appearance said he’d lived for lifetimes. Lifetimes that weren’t exactly easy.

He gripped the bars on the window, again thinking dryly of the decorative purposes they held. Standing on tip-toe he was barely able to see the ground. Of course, sometimes he wondered if the fall would be more painful than staying here, knowing… knowing who was out there…

He smiled now, without really knowing why. It was a smile, yes, but not the smile he had been known for in his days at Hogwarts. Not that date-winning, charming smile that could even win over teachers. His grey eyes were not the same grey eyes that had been so sharp, so intelligent, so bright.

No, the smile his face wore now was bitter. Haunting. Frightening. Aged. His smile matched the grim place he was forced to live in.

But he smiled anyway. Smiled at the irony of the situation, because really he never would have expected his life to become like this. Perhaps he should have, he thought now, because really, it hadn’t started out to well for him to begin with.

He was thankful for his Hogwarts life, the days of pranks and being best friends. Of having brothers who cared about you. Days when all Gryffindors were wonderful, when all Gryffindors were brave and kind. When all of them worried about their best friends and when all of them were trustworthy.

When all Ravenclaws were clever and brainy, all Hufflepuffs kind and just there, when all Slytherins were evil and only there to be played pranks upon.

When best friends meant best friends.

The smile on his face slid off and he now glared at the bird. He envied the bird. But he did not envy its ability to fly, or its freedom. He envied its chance to be helpful, to do something and all it WOULD do was fly around in the stupid sky and sing.

Really, how was that helping anyone?

He could not see the other people on this planet. For all he knew they’d all died, although he figured the dementors would’ve been long gone had that happened. And yet while he could not see them, he envied them.

But it was for the same basic reasons he envied the bird. They could fall in love if they wished, they could be in love…they could protect those they loved.

They could protect certain young boys from certain rats who were no longer worthy of living life.

Disgusting, betraying, untrustworthy rats who were currently free, while he – he – was forced to stay here, smiling and then glaring at birds because they were flying in the sky.

A rustle behind him caused him to jump and turn around, only to slump and plop down heavily onto the cot they gave him for a bed. It was only lunchtime, and quite a sad lunch it was.

Still, he reached forward to grab the tray, scarfing down its contents without really noticing what it was. He didn’t really care.

Done, he tossed the tray back onto the floor. With a clang it slid, skidding to a stop right at the base of the bars. He stared at it a few moments, just staring in thought without really thinking.

And then he realized what he was doing.

The infamous Sirius Black, thief of the hearts of many a Hogwarts girl, best friend of both Head Boy and Girl in his day, co-creator of the Marauders and the Marauders Map, one out of two boys who might have possibly been the greatest troublemakers of all time.

Sirius Black, who almost kind of happened to be sort of in love with one of his best friends.

Sirius Black who always had some prank to pull or some godson to baby sit and dote upon.

Sirius Black, who now spent his days staring at food trays.

Yes, Sirius Black. He was a character to be reckoned with.

And I never want to let you down

Forgive me if I slip away

When all that I’ve known is lost and found

I promise you I, I’ll come back to you one day

He stood up again roughly, jumping up and down in an effort to do something different from his everyday routine. Just to set it apart, to show himself that his life wasn’t just wasting away, that his time meant more than staring at empty food trays.

Stepping heavily forward he gripped the bars on the window, the bars that didn’t really need to be there. He gripped them until his knuckles turned white with the lack of blood flow, gripped them until his hands were starting to ache. He glared fiercely out into the now-darkening sky, eyes resting on the twinkling stars beginning to shine.

Along with the rise of the stars came the rise of the moon, so close to being a full white orb in the sky you could hardly tell it really wasn’t. But knowing and living around a werewolf taught you to notice some things others didn’t see, and he saw the small strip of moon missing. ‘A werewolf’s solace’, it had been called.

By a certain best friend.

His heart ached now as he stared mournfully at the moon, so majestic and regal, like a queen watching over her many diamond-like stars. It’s so close. Somewhere, his friend – and yet so much more – would be preparing for transformation. A transformation that would have to be endured alone.

If only he could see him again, one last time. Ask him if he still believed in him, if they still had that same feeling they’d had when they were so young and naïve. All of his life, he’d tried his best to surpass the reputation his family had suffocated him with, to please not his mother but his friends. To make them proud. He knew that it wasn’t he who had really betrayed the young couple of Godric’s Hollow, but the treacherous feeling in his heart could not be banished.

He felt somehow he’d let them down, and by doing so he’d let himself down.

He’d let that light-brown headed best friend of his down.

He’d let his godson down.

Feelings like this were not uncommon in places like Azkaban. Feelings like this were easily felt and hard to get rid of.

His hands were now loose on the bars, hanging limply at the base of the dark iron. He sighed before staring out into the now velvety sky. “I promise,” he said suddenly into the emptiness, his voice cracked and unlike the smooth, flowing voice he used to use in his Hogwarts days, when all he’d cared about was who he was taking to Hogsmeade or getting out of detention that week.

“I promise,” he repeated, louder and with more determination. He would not let the simple task of speaking hinder him! “I promise!” he said even louder and with more vigor. “I will return! I promise you, Moony!” he half-yelled. “Harry! I promise you both, I will not leave you!”

A promise that as far as he knew fell on deaf ears. Because the dementors, they were used to their captives talking to themselves. It was only natural, in places like this.

Morning is waking up

And sometimes it’s more than just enough

When all that you need to love

Is in front of your eyes

It’s in front of your eyes

He doesn’t exactly know what time it is the dementors wake them up. He’s not even sure it’s the same time everyday; it’s not like he would know.

But he does know that it is always around the time the sun begins to rise, when the faintest bit of pink begins to show, just above the horizon. He has been up to witness this event many a time, his mind blank as he watched the skies transform, the stars disappear and the sun wake up.

Even before he’d come to this dreaded place he had been friends with the sunrise. Not just for the mornings after the full moons, either. After the wedding, the rat’s odd disappearances became more frequent and their number had, in a sense, dropped to two. He and Moony had decided to try and keep the Marauders alive (at least, that’s what they said) and moved in together, sharing the rent and chores.

In his first few years at Hogwarts Sirius had become prone to enjoying sunsets, something the other Marauders (well, all except Moony) often teased him for. One evening, as Sirius was sitting alone beside the lake, the sky’s blues stained with pinks and purples as the sun disappeared along the distant mountain’s edge, light footsteps on the grass behind him had alerted him to a visitor.

“Watching the sunset again, are you?” came the voice that broke the silence. But it was not an awkward silence, nor did the voice disrupt the calm of the moment. Rather, it added to it. His voice was never loud or rough, always smooth and quiet, even when he was angry.

“And what of it?” he had replied, not meaning to sound so harsh. But his companion had not minded, paid no attention to it, and stared in the same direction as he. Neither spoke for a few minutes, before he continued, “Yes, I am. I always have. Don’t know why.”

“Perhaps because sunsets meant that the day was over?” The young man sitting beside him adjusted his position so that he was more comfortable. They did not look at each other. “Night seems to give solace to some people. The lack of light hides the things that scare them.”

He paused. His thoughts moved to the years before Hogwarts, to the years of his mother’s mental abuse and father’s rejection. He had never really told anyone about those years, though they somehow knew, just a little, what might have happened.

“I myself have been prone to enjoying the sun rise.” He was thankful to his friend for continuing on, distracting his thoughts again.

“Rise?” he asked, sneaking a glance out of the corner of his eye.

“Yes,” he said. “For me, it promises a new day. I who have always despised the night loved to see the sun rise, for it meant the moon was gone, for a while at least.”

“I’ve never seen a sunrise,” Sirius said softly, his gaze now on the sun’s reflection in the lake. There was no wind and the lake’s surface was like glass; the sun had almost completely disappeared, the sky now an inky color.

“You do tend to sleep late,” came the response, a smile in his tone. “You should try a sunrise sometime. You might like it.”

And so he did. The next day, in fact. Somehow he managed to get up early, just early enough to stumble to the window and stare out it, into the horizon. He watched as the sun slowly made its appearance, as the deep midnight blue faded and the yellow tinge appeared just over the mountains.

He understood the appeal of sunrises now. There was something pure, something pristine about the light banishing the dark so softly and quietly.

So, he always made a habit of watching the sunrise. And sometimes, he wasn’t alone.

And I never want to let you down

Forgive me if I slip away

Sometimes it’s hard to find my ground

‘Cause I keep on falling as

I try to get away from this crazy world

Watching the sunrise brings back memories such as those. Memories filled with quiet silences spent between the two of them. During the day they were loud, they were joking and friends, but in the mornings they were different. As his glowing amber eyes slowly became more evident in the weak rays of sunrise, moments were spent that matured the both of them.

It was during one of these mornings as the other occupants in the rooms snored away that certain feelings began to arise. Certain feelings that neither understood, least of all Sirius, who was just beginning to enjoy special…aspects that manhood brought. It was also during these mornings that these feelings were finally brought up.

Sirius stared out into the present sunrise; it was almost completely up. He heard the familiar clang of the jail bars moving and a tray being placed on the floor. Breakfast time, he thought dryly to himself. I always wanted to be waited upon. Never quite like this, though.

He ignored the tray for a few more minutes, staring out the window still, even though the light was fast becoming bright. Moony’s face was still occupying his mind, and he let out a wistful sigh, turning away. He tried to block both the sun and the memories out by staring down at the food tray and its meager contents.

Despite the fact that he rarely ever felt full, he did not feel particularly hungry right now. Glancing down at his hands, he noted how skeletal they were. He knew he must’ve been a sight; he hadn’t seen proper sunlight in years.

He pulled his shirt up to look at his stomach; his ribs were visible. What used to be slim muscle was now nothing. He was just a wisp of what he used to be, fading away. He turned back to the window, gripping the bars hopelessly, his expression despairing like no other.

“Forgive me, Remus,” he whispered croakily. “I try to be strong, but it’s so hard in this place.”

It seemed every hopeful thought, every day he thought he might make it through and make it out of here and finally clear his name – at least with those he cared about – he became even more hopeless. It was as if he were trying to climb a hill covered with oil, and each time he finally got a foothold, something else came to knock him back down even further.

What he knew of history and what was going on, he did not understand. He, innocent, was charged with the murder of his best friend, the last thing in the world he would ever do.

What a world he lived in.

And I never want to let you down

Forgive me if I slip away

When all that I’ve known is lost and found

I promise you I, I’ll come back to you one day

He spotted another bird flying, so close he could actually hear its call. Anger surged through him and he thrust away from the bars, turning to tear at the food that had long since grown even colder.

After their graduation things had started to go downhill. Their friendship did not break – for a while, it might’ve even grown stronger – but the destruction of Voldemort spread far and wide, corrupting almost everything and everyone.

As his godson had been born, things had been turned upside down. Voldemort’s reign was peaking and there seemed to be no hope, though Dumbledore would not let his defenses down. With the birth of that little raven-haired babe had come new responsibilities and worries for his best friend – his brother – and his wife. As the Dark Lord seemed to take even more control, more things seemed to go crazy. Things were never as they seemed, something the four Marauders learned the hard way.

As Sirius sat once more on the cold stone block they called a bed, his mind spinning. He had just finished reading the article about some Wizarding family – the Weasleys – and now he knew was the time he should act. If he only knew how…

Because he’d spotted that rat in the picture, under the guise of a simple pet. A clever disguise, cleverer than they had ever given him credit for. But then again, he had proved that he was much cleverer than they had given him credit for. Something that had put them at a disadvantage, something that had become their ultimate downfall.

But it would be his downfall, soon enough.

At this thought Sirius frowned. He was in his Animagus form, and that had served him well. He had been able to stay like that, to use it as his disguise. Sirius pulled the newspaper close to him, standing under the window to see it better. His Animagus form…

It had worked for him, a mere rat. So could it…?

“See, Moony?” He laughed into the window, no longer envious of that bird. He gripped the bars once more, the paper still clutched in his hand and crumpling under his grip. “I told you!”

Where has that old friend gone?

Lost in a February song…

Tell him it won’t be long,

‘Till he opens his eyes

Opens his eyes

But could he even do it? It had been so long. It took much concentration, much magical ability, and he was afraid he would not be able to anymore. And he couldn’t do it often, what if the dementors sensed it and warned someone? Then he would lose his chance…

And so he bided his time. He ate as much as he could, started doing small exercises. Even if he could get past those bloody floating things of death, there was still that swim from the island he had to get through…and he was so weak…

He was afraid to spend too much time, every second ticking away was another one his godson was in danger…

So, when he thought he’d gained enough strength, he waited patiently for nightfall and for the dinner-rounds. He could hear the dementors growing nearer, and he transformed, waiting for the bars to open…

Slipping out was easier than he thought. Something of the sort had never happened before and so they were not prepared for it. He was halfway across the lake before he heard the alarm sound, and by that time he was too far away for them to get to him.

He reached land and collapsed, slightly stunned by his good fortune. He was exhausted but excited. He felt almost like his old self; imagine the laugh he would’ve had with his old buddies…

No one ever did it before, and I did it without my wand!

The thrill he was feeling now was that of how he used to feel when pulling pranks. Except this time, there was also a deep sense of dread and worry that settled in the pit of his stomach.

He glanced up at the moon, full and bright, shining peacefully down on him. He stared up at it before howling loudly, the haunting noise echoing across the lake.

“I’m coming, Moony,” he thought, and got up, racing off into the darkness.

XXX

A/N: Please review! Don’t forget to check out the companion…just click the next chapter button. :)