All the Young Dudes ( Sirius' Perspective )

Moony

I can tell by your eyes that you’ve probably been cryin’ forever

And the stars in the sky don’t mean nothin’ to you, they’re a mirror

I don’t want to talk about it

How you broke my heart

If I stay here just a little bit longer

If I stay here, won’t you listen to my heart

 

It wasn’t until he got to London that he began to wonder if this was a bad idea.

Sirius hunched, panting, in an alleyway, crouched behind the bins. The stolen wand wasn’t fighting him so much, anymore, but the apparation had still left him winded, out of breath, feeling like his eyes were trying to squeeze out of his head. He pressed them shut, shaking.

Lie low at Lupin’s.

He had to—he had to, Dumbledore knew what was best. Sirius’s own mind was a mess, a frantic tangle of fear and anger and horrible, bone-aching guilt as he thought of the haunted look in Harry’s eyes.

I was supposed to keep him safe.

And Remus—Remus hadn’t come for him. It had been a year, and he hadn’t tried to find Sirius, not once—not even a letter, a note—

Can you blame him? Whispered the cold, cruel voice that lived in the back of Sirius’s mind, Can you really blame him? Look at yourself—why would he want you? Why would he ever want to see you again?

He had been trying so, so hard not to think about—this. Any of this. The first time they’d seen each other again, last summer, there had been too much happening—a whirlwind of confusion and questions and explanations, rage and fear and adrenaline. It had still half-felt like a dream, or a nightmare. And since then…

You never went to him, either.

Sirius swallowed.

Because he hates me, he thought, numbly He must—he knows I betrayed him, betrayed them…if it hadn’t been for me, James and Lily would still…

“Fuck!”

He hissed, crouching in the grimy alleyway, burying his head in his hands. He couldn’t—deal with this, couldn’t think about it, couldn’t feel it—not right now. There was work to do—a mission. Dumbledore was counting on him; he needed to focus on that. If he just followed orders, just did what Dumbledore said…

Yes, that was the key. That made everything simple, narrowed the world down into one fine point. Just follow Dumbledore, Sirius thought, sucking in a breath, Dumbledore knows what he’s doing.

He transformed into Padfoot. That made everything easier, too. Padfoot was a good dog—Padfoot knew how to follow orders.

The street was familiar, in a strange, dizzy way. He remembered it—and yet it was different, storefronts changed, old scents mixed with new. He wasn’t sure which pieces he’d never seen before, and which he’d simply forgotten.