All the Young Dudes ( Sirius' Perspective )

Escape

Pushed around and kicked around, always a lonely boy

You were the one that they’d talk about around town as they put you down

And as hard as they would try they’d hurt to make you cry

But you never cried to them, just to your soul

No, you never cried to them, just to your soul

Run away, turn away

Run away, turn away

Run away

Tuesday 10th July 1993

It was summer, maybe. The wind had less bite. Or maybe Sirius was imagining things—it was so hard to tell; between the vicious northern wind and the dementors, it was almost always freezing. He couldn’t remember the last time he had truly felt warm.

Still, the sun was a bit brighter, he thought. And the sea smelled a bit different, when Padfoot sniffed. Sort of…thawed. In a way. Maybe. Or maybe not. Maybe it was the dead of winter. Maybe he was entirely wrong.

There was something else different, too. Padfoot lifted his head from the worn mattress, sniffing once more. Past the briny tang of the sea, past the icy, unsettling scentless-ness of the dementors, there was something…new. Something alive. A new person—a new prisoner? But it didn’t have the same bitter tang of hopelessness, no rage or desperation…

Padfoot cocked his head, listening. He could hear a voice, distantly, speaking. The words were steady and even, if a bit nervous; certainly not the mad screaming or cackling laughter that Padfoot sometimes heard from surrounding cells, evidence of the broken minds of his fellow prisoners.

“…to see the maximum security cells, and then I suppose we can continue on…”

Someone was…touring the prison?

Sirius transformed back, feeling a burst of panic at the thought of anyone discovering Padfoot—the dog was all he had left, his only meagre defence against the endless oblivion of imprisonment. He couldn’t let them find out—couldn’t let them take it away.

His human ears were weaker, not sensitive enough to pick up on the same sounds as the dog. Still, after a moment he heard the steady sound of footsteps.

A person. There was a person out there. Sirius hadn’t seen another person in…well, he supposed he didn’t know. His heart began to pound in his chest, startling him. He’d forgotten that it could do that.

Sirius wasn’t entirely sure what possessed him to press up against the bars of his cell window, wasn’t sure why it felt so important to see this mysterious visitor, to speak to him. He had no plan, no idea what he wanted to say. It had just been so long since he had seen anyone, had spoken to anyone. He felt half-mad as he tried to remember how to have a conversation.

The footsteps drew closer. Sirius sucked in a breath as the speaker came into view, dizzy with the prospect of speaking to an actual human. He blinked, shoving his face into the bars of the window until the cold iron stung his cheeks.