❝If by my life or death I can protect you, I will.❞
The Chosen One is kidnapped from the Dursley household and it turns out to be the best damn thing that's happened to him.
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SIRIUS BLACK had long lost the track of time as he wasted away in his cells. The rumours of Azkaban were true, there was no need for bars on the cells, towering walls, or violent waters to keep from escaping. Sirius had lost his will to do much in the passing days. In the beginning, he kept count of what he believed were days passing by, but it was always so dark, he couldn't tell when morning came. His only clue was the feeding time of the dementors. They came twice a day but even then the events seemed to just roll into one after a while.
In short, Sirius simply didn't see the point in living anymore, he wanted to die.
Every bit of happiness he had ever felt was stolen from him with every feeding of the dementors. And he didn't have the ability to create new, happier memories to survive. He could feel his body wasting away, but his mind was deteriorating at a fast rate. He wanted to die so that he didn't have to suffer anymore.
Fate had played Sirius a cruel card. Growing up in a family that would come to loathe him and later on, disown him. Then to find happiness among friends and a lover, only to have it all taken away from him in a blink of an eye.
Coming home to find his newlywed husband missing, Sirius could feel the blood in his veins run cold. Charlus was nowhere to be seen and judging by the disorder of the home, there had been an obvious struggle. There was no point in calling out Charlus' name, even if he was alert somewhere, he wouldn't be able to hear it. And just as Sirius was preparing to leave in search, an Auror arrived with some grave news.
Charlus Potter was at St Mungo's, barely holding onto his life.
Sirius didn't remember much after that moment, except being at Charlus' bedside, pleading that he keep fighting and make it through. He fell to his knees, begging the Healer in charge to save Charlus by any means necessary. Whatever they needed he would provide, money wouldn't be an issue. He didn't want to leave Charlus' side, but he knew he had to be the one to tell James what happened.
From that point on, everything spiralled out of control. Without Charlus there to boost his spirits, Sirius didn't know what to do with himself. He didn't have James to talk to, he and Remus weren't on speaking terms, and he hadn't even bothered with Peter, even though he should have.
He should have seen all the signs of Peter's betrayal to the Order. The way Peter had distanced himself from everyone during crucial moments, it should have been obvious. But who would suspect little Peter? And when it all finally became clear that it was Peter, it was too late. James and Lily were already dead, and even if Voldemort was gone, it was no time to celebrate.
Sirius was already a broken man from seeing his husband struggling to live every day and then to hold onto James' cold dead body in his arms, he could feel his heart shattering into irreparable fragments. Without ever experiencing a dementor, Sirius knew what it felt like to suddenly lose every bit of hope and happiness. All he was left with was hurt, anger, and the need for revenge.
