When the Roses Went Black: The Lost Lover of Sirius Black

XXXVII

TW//mental voices, suicidal thoughts/attempt

In the days and weeks after Rose's death, Sirius Black was a dead man walking. His ebony eyes, the ones that Rose had loved so much, grew dark and hollow. Bags laid heavily under them each day. His olive skin looked grey and faded. The days passed in a blur of routine, always ending the same: sobbing until he fell asleep. Almost every night, his nightmares forced him to relive that cursed day he found Rose on the floor. He'd wake up panting, often turning to his side looking for Rose next to him as he always did, but he was always disappointed to find the bed empty.

The smell of lilacs still lingered in the house, especially in the bedroom. It felt like it was mocking Sirius, and he had the great desire to light every lilac on Earth aflame. Yet Sirius went to work every day. He said little, but his hexes were more powerful. His anger was evident. He once kicked a Death Eater right off of a bridge without speaking a word. Kingsley Shacklebolt looked at Sirius, searching for any sign of emotion, but he was often met with a vague expression and lifeless eyes. Yet the empty shell of the outside did not even remotely represent the war raging within.

Sirius spent each waking moment living in remorse and sorrow. So eagerly he wanted to press on, continue, and fight. But the fire that had burned so wildly inside him for the past 20 years had been snuffed out with Rose. He couldn't escape the mindset that this was his fault, that he put Rose in the danger that eventually ended her life. Each polaroid he looked at, each record he played, and each breath he took reminded him so much of her. The house was a corpse, one filled with so many memories of the joy that once inhabited it. It was a corpse whose soul had been indefinitely taken.

Sirius felt much the same.

Yet other thoughts had begun to infiltrate Sirius's mind. Every time he was in the bathroom, his eyes would fall on the razors that sat in the tub, their thin blade calling him more so each time. It's what he deserved isn't it? He lost his lover, no one else. If his actions could end her, why not himself? Every day it got harder to ignore these growing thoughts. Sinister voices screamed them within his mind.

At their peak, Sirius sat on the edge of the bathtub, hand trembling around the razor. He shook as he brought it to his wrist. But just as he began to draw the slightest bit of blood, a softer, gentle voice dwarfed the dark ones. It sounded much like Rose's, and it cooed at him in a tone he had heard many times over the years. The voice was strained and distant at first, but it grew to overpower the wicked ones.

"Put it down Sirius... Fight Sirius... Forever Sirius..."

In that moment, Sirius Black felt like Rose could've been right next to him, whispering in his ear. He almost felt her cold hands on his shoulders. He almost felt her curls brush against his face. He could've sworn he felt her lips near his cheek. Sirius felt he hung suspended in a space between Heaven and Earth, where his mind could feel the energies of both at the same time. The moment was surreal, and it all happened in an instant, then it quickly fled, leaving nothing but a loud silence in his mind.

Sirius raised the razor and chucked it across the bathroom before his head landed in his hands.

***

About a month after Rose's death, Sirius rapped quickly on Peter Pettigrew's door. Peter opened the door, hand behind his back to where he kept his wand, only to drop it once he laid his eyes on an empty looking Sirius.

"Sirius!" He gasped in a bit of surprise. "May I come in, Peter?" Sirius droned. Peter looked a bit off put by the tone of his friend, but he opened the door to him nonetheless. "Would you like some tea mate? A drink?" He asked as they crossed to his love seat. "No thank you, this won't take long." Sirius's plain expression quickly shifted into one of complete seriousness. "Listen Peter.. you know the Potters are in hiding. Rose and I were the secret keepers, but it was that very thing that got her killed." Sirius took a gulp and hesitated for a moment before continuing. "You also know that my family and I don't exactly- mirror our morals in regards to this whole war. I'm asking you to be their new secret keeper." Peter's eyes grew wide as Sirius finished. "I-I well- Pads, mate," he stuttered. "You two were always much closer to Lily and James, and I don't know if-" Sirius cut him off. "That has been taken care of. I just don't want anyone else to get hurt because of me."

A few days prior, Sirius had sent a patronus to the Potters, informing them of his plan to transfer the secret to Peter. The patronus he received back was more understanding than what he had anticipated, and so here he sat, begging Peter Pettigrew. For the first time since the funeral, Peter spied genuine emotion in Sirius's eyes. This time it was pleading. Every part of Sirius was pleading with Peter to say yes. He then voiced it weakly: "Please Peter," Sirius whispered. After one last look into the weary face that sat across from him, Peter nodded his head in agreement. Sirius reached out and grabbed his hand, squeezing it with all the thanks he could not manage to express.

That night, a knock came on the other end of Sirius's door. His guest had arrived. Opening the door, Sirius looked at his younger brother up and down. "You wanted to see me, Sirius?" Reglus asked, concern tracing his voice. "Yeah.. come on in Reg." Regulus did as he was told, placing his coat on the rack that stood by the door.

"I'll be frank, Regulus," Sirius started as they sat down. "I need you to erase only a small part of my memory: the location of the Potters. It's too risky to attempt on myself and I figured if anyone could help.." Regulus looked at Sirius at first in disbelief, but he replaced it with understanding. Regulus felt he was almost wholly to blame for the pain his brother was enduring, and it was the least he could do to help him ease it, in any sort of way. "Of course mate," Regulus said with a nod. "But.. for this to work, I'll need to know the location." Sirius pondered this for a moment. His brother still was a Death Eater, willingly or not aside. But he did defy Voldemort, a known Legismens, an act that would get most people killed. He decided to trust Regulus if that meant protecting the Potters further. The last thing Sirius needed was more loss of those he loved.

"Okay," he replied firmly. "Godric's Hollow." Regulus nodded and drew his wand, then standing and facing Sirius. "Obliviate," he commanded. Sirius felt the memory of Godric's Hollow fade into fizziness, then cloudiness, and finally nothing. It left as soon as it came, and Sirius felt instantly lighter.

Standing, he began to walk into the kitchen. "Fancy a drink, Reg?" he asked ordinarily. Regulus looked a bit taken aback, but nodded slowly for his brother to pour him a drink. Sirius gave his younger brother a half hearted attempt at a smile, but it was the closest thing he had gotten to one in weeks. Bringing the Firewhiskey over to Regulus, the two brother's met their glasses. "Thank you," Regulus said timidly as he took a sip. Sirius patted him gently on the shoulder. "Anything for my brother."