Weathered

Hullo, everyone! Long time no see! I am so sorry. I've been soooooo busy lately, school and all that. I'm looking forward to Christmas very much. Hopefully, I'll get some more writing done then.

This is a songfic to Creed's weathered. I just got their new cd and almost every song is good for a songfic! It's great!

Heheh, anyway, I just got the Harry Potter PC Game. It's great! I recommend it highly! Just make sure you have a few hours to set aside b4 u start. Well, I gtg, we're going Christmas tree shopping!

Please review and tell me what you think!









**************************************************************************** ***************************************************************



Sirius Black closed his eyes. It was no use. Sleep would not come. The images, the screams, the fear would not abate tonight.



I lie awake on a long, dark night

I can't seem to tame my mind

Slings and arrows are killing me inside

Maybe I can't accept the life that's mine



He slipped out of bed and pulled on a night robe, slipping down to the kitchen. He tipped toed past Remus's room. On impulse, he peeked inside. Remus was fast asleep, pleasant dreams drifting through his head. He was not bothered by the endless torment Sirius felt, had been feeling since he was seventeen.





Simple living is my desperate cry

Been trading love with indifference yeah it suits me just fine

I try to hold on but I'm calloused to the bone

Maybe that's why I feel alone

Maybe that's why I feel so alone



Sirius was not like Remus, never had been. Now less so than ever. He sighed and collapsed at the kitchen table, running his fingers through his hair, so recently chopped by his only remaining friend. He had never felt so helpless, maybe only in that office, his hand on his godson's shoulder, listening to his terrible tale.

It was happening again. Everything they had worked for, everything they had achieved was for nothing. Voldemort was back and there was nothing Sirius could do.

When had he began feeling so old, he wondered. Even in Azkaban and his days on the run, he'd felt older, he'd understood that he was no longer a carefree teenager, but never had he felt this tired, this frustrated, this sick of life.





Me...I'm rusted and weathered

Barely holding together

I'm covered with skin that peels and it just won't heal



To end it would be a relief, he knew, but the cowards way out. He had a job, a responsibility to James and Lily, to save their son. To watch out for Harry.

But who was going to watch out for Sirius? There was one person and only one he trusted that much. Himself. But it offered no release. If anything, it only made him feel older.

Like a rock that has been shaken and worn down by the fearsome wind, that has endured a thousand storms then finally sees the sunlight, only to have it snatched away by the turning black clouds. What more was there to do? He wasn't that old, only thirty-five and yet Sirius felt a heavy burden on his shoulders, a secret whisper years ago that revealed wonders, a family secret kept since the days of Godric Gryffindor, a knowledge that with these wonders came a price, and he was the one who had to pay. With that secret he'd become privy to the workings of fate, and the destinies of himself and his friends. He had tried to prevent them, tried to dissuade Fate, but she had struck at him with such suddenness, that he'd had little time to react. And he had failed. This knowledge made him old.





The sun shines and I can't avoid the light

I think I'm holding on to life too tight

Ashes to ashes and dust to dust

Sometimes I feel like giving up

Sometimes I feel like giving up



His grip on the slowly slipping lifeline was too tight. Little Harry, his godson, his reason for escaping hell, was in danger. James had lost and now it was Harry's turn to fight and Sirius would once again, have to watch. He could hardly stand to lift his head from the table, he didn't even want to.

He felt like screaming, yet forced himself to put on a front of confidence and bravery. Yet he knew he could not stand one more loss. He felt so tired, so sick of everything.





Me...I'm rusted and weathered

Barely holding together

I'm covered with skin that peels and it just won't heal



Why? The question rang through his mind every second. Why? He was so sick of fighting, of losing, of running. He felt so helpless. People were going to die. It would be just like before. Just like when they were children. There would be fear, terror, and mistrust. There would be chaos again. And Sirius was sick of it already.

Was it so bad to want the simple things, like peace, a home, a family? Was it too much to ask for a quiet life, after all he'd been through? Was it too much to ask to be able to keep a promise made fifteen years ago to a dying friend? Fate believed it so.

Where was God then? He'd been told once when he was very small that God was always there, watching him and protecting him. Well then where was he when James and Lily died? Where was he when Sirius was dragged out of the courtroom, screaming his innocence and no one believed him? Where was he as Sirius wasted away in Azkaban? And where was he know when the reason for Sirius's living, Harry was threatened and the world was threatening to return to her dark days of Sirius's childhood.



The day reminds me of you

The night hides your truth

The earth is a voice

Speaking to you

Take all this pride

And leave it behind

Because one day it ends

One day we die



What did it matter? He knew he was bound to die before his time. It was foretold,

And the dogstar shall fall, as the stag before, protecting he who lived.

If he was to die for Harry, then so be it. but Sirius was taking as many death eaters with him as he could. It didn't matter. It meant nothing to him. He only wanted a few simple answers. He had spent his life looking for an absolution that would never come. If there was one thing in the world he could have, he'd ask for only that.





Believe what you will

That is your right

But I choose to win

So I choose to fight





But then, that was why he kept fighting, wasn't it? So that if he could not have these things so others could. So that his children would live in peace and never wonder why people died and believe in God without wondering where he was and why he let horrible things happen to good people.

Sirius lifted his head and gazed out the window, eyes automatically looking for and finding his namesake. There was something that remained the same about that star, something that comforted him . The tinted green star twinkled and laughed merrily at him as it had from his own bedroom window in his youth and through the bars in his cell window and through the mouth of a cave. It never changed. It never stopped shining just because the night was dark.

Perhaps, Sirius thought, if the star can keep going, keep shining, keep burning, so can I. I can keep fighting. And maybe this time, I will win.



To fight