Originally posted: 4 December 2008

I still feel awful -- and quite apathetic, really -- but bell was a sweetheart and sent me the beta of this-- this thing so I thought I should post it right away. I will get around to replying soon, I promise.
This is another experiment -- just like Your Ex-Lover Is Dead -- so it's angsty and curious. I wrote it in a fit of inspiration on Sunday evening, after having listened to The Knife's album Silent Shout for over an hour.

Title: Non Compos Mentis
Summary: It's a common problem with inbreeding.
Characters/Pairings: Sirius Black-centric
Genre: Drama/Angst
Rating/Warnings: PG for mildly disturbing themes
Wordcount: 329
Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter or any of the characters; I'm just playing around a bit.

It's a common problem with inbreeding.

That's what people have told him. That's what he's told people, in a dry caustic tone and with an arrogant toss of his hair.

Insane, mad, crazy, deranged, unhinged, mental, unbalanced, cracked, bonkers, screwy, barking, nuts, batty, loony, out of one's mind, round the bend, off one's trolley. Childhood insults, spoken in jest. Never serious, never given much thought.

Sirius laughs when James calls him a mad tosser, plays along, hopes his dread doesn't show. Tries to quell hysterical laughter whenever he hears the word. Never tells anyone about his suffocating fear.

It's not constant or regular. It creeps up on him slowly, seeps into him, takes over him, and he doesn't notice until it's all over.

That is the worst part.

He doesn't notice that his thoughts go astray, that he drifts away from his surroundings, that his point of view distorts into something incomprehensible. It all feels so normal, so natural, as if nothing has changed. That the walls are askew and Remus' eyes glare green with malignity don't strike him as odd at all.

Neither does the prickling sense that James is about to cast Avada Kedavra at him.

It's not always that morbid. Some times it's just unintelligible ideas, like that one time he almost jumped out the window just so he could talk to the wind. Other times he just stares unseeingly at a wall, trapped inside himself, hearing sounds and seeing things he's never known before.

Not until he snaps out of it, until he finds himself again, does he realise how far gone he has been. Shaking and staggered, he tries to forget it happened, tries to not think about that it's the second time that week and that it's twice as bad as it was a year ago.

He is slowly losing his mind, he can feel how it slips through his fingers. He fears what will become of him when he eventually loses his hold.