Nah, She Didn't

~ Part 88 ~ Nah, She Didn't ~

Yesterday ~ The Beatles

Sirius Black had learned to expect the unexpected. Because whenever you think you have your whole life, or day, or even dinner planned out, things always take a turn. They take a turn and go into such an unknown, unforeseen territory that you can't help but just give up planning one day or another.

Sirius had never really planned things out very much, or very well for that matter. He never planned on what he was to have for dinner—he always wanted to surprise himself with whatever he could find in the pantry. He never planned on what he was going to do today—a bit of unpredictable-ness is always good in life, he said. And no, he most definitely did not have even a small fraction of his life planned out. The only thing that he knew he could count on happening, on staying, were his friends.

Ah, yes. James Potter, Remus Lupin, Lily Evans, and Marlene McKinnon were some of the few people Sirius actually considered to be his friends. And he could count on them.

Sirius knew he could count on the fact that they would always be there, standing right beside him.

But... Sirius Black learned that he didn't know everything.

He always knew that he didn't know everything, despite what his enlarged ego always said. But he thought, out of the few things he did get right, that this was one of those things. That his friends would always be there.

Well, 12 years in Azkaban can really help you figure out that you're wrong a lot more often than you think.

When he was in Azkaban, he spent a lot of his time there either laughing or screaming.

Laughing because Peter was dead. The fact that Peter was dead was one of the only lights in the darkness.

Screaming because everyone was gone. Sirius was alone.

Marlene, she was gone.

And James and Lily... they... they were gone too.

And everyone else, well... Sirius was gone, gone in Azkaban and there was no way to reach them.

Screaming because he had accused Remus of being the spy. He had accused Remus of working for Voldemort. And now... well, Sirius supposed that this was his karma. Sirius accused Remus, and now everyone accused him for the death of the Potters.

They were right to accuse him, though. It was his fault. They just didn't have the right reasons. Everyone thought it was his fault because he was working for Voldemort. But it was because his stupid, stupid, stupid self had to switch Secret Keepers. Stupid. Stupid. Stupid.

It was his fault. It was all Sirius's fault they were dead. There was no one else to blame except him. It was his fault. Stupid. Stupid. Stupid.

It was his fault.

And so when his voice went hoarse from screaming, he would laugh. He would laugh because rejoice! Peter Pettigrew was dead. That rat would do no more damage.

The only other light in this age of pitch blackness was Harry. It was his only life source. Harry was that piece of wood in the ocean that he held onto, the thing that kept him from drowning. Drowning in his misery and utter brokenness.

Sirius forced himself to stay as sane as possible, so that when he got out of this place he could be with Harry. He could be with the last thing he had of James.

And that. That part of his life was definitely unexpected. Sirius could tell you with absolute certainty that he did not plan any of that.

And the whole purpose of Sirius's train of thought right now was that when Harry's head popped into the fireplace at number 12 Grimmauld Place, the last thing Sirius expected Harry to ask about was James.