Mon Loup

Chains dragging against cobble floors became his least favourite sound. For a short while, the staggered rattling had irked him. Every slight thud upon the stone beat misery into his bones. His soul was wearing down before he could even make the spine-chilling discovery that shoved him from reality as if it were a rouge bludger.

Sirius Black discovered that the gnawing and scratching of metal on his skin, was his least favourite feeling. For a short while, the pain he felt on his body as the ministry tortured his being with the muggle contraption was all there was to pain. He had yet to uncover the blatantly obvious truth. Sirius black had felt no pain like it.

He had decided that bare feet against freezing cobles was his least favourite feeling and that the ever-looming memories of home were his least favourite sound. For a short while.
The sound of the ocean slamming against the sturdy bricks, his least favourite sound. For a short while.

For a short while, Sirius Black only disliked the people that had wrongfully locked him in the wretched prison.

For a short while.
He didn't realise.

One night, something itched at the back of Sirius Black's mind. An uneasy and devastated scratch. He was awoken by this, the rare luxury of sleep ripped from him. The faint scratching grew louder; from above.

For a short while, Sirius Black had forgotten.
For a short while.

He stalked to his bared window and leant his head out slightly.

Sirius Black felt sick to his stomach. How could he let himself get captured? Why would he do such a cruel and malicious thing?

Sirius Black stared out over the water holding the gaze of his failure, his head dropped hitting the stone. Suddenly, the sound of chains on cobble didn't irk him so. The feeling of metal gnawing at his skin wasn't so irritating. Sirius Black no longer felt physical pain. He felt incompetence and failure.

Waves smashing against the side of the prison were no longer annoying taunts but hailstorms of regret raging in his mind. Sirius Black lifted his head.

"I'm sorry," He whispered breathily to the full moon. "Mon loup."

"I'm sorry."