SPLITAPARTS: lessons in love ✔️

Sirius and the Piano

Sirius woke in the middle of the night from a nightmare and lay on the flat of his back and stared into the darkness as he reached for his wand beneath his pillow. Only then did he realize where he was...safe in his bed, in his house, with Cassie by his side. His thoughts turned to his incarceration and how he was made to live out his time in solitary confinement, with only the dementors to keep him company; the loneliness was agonizing. Ten times a week, Smythe visited with him when he brought the typical minuscule prisoner rations, and the occasional previously read Daily Prophet. A few times during the holidays, he brought Sirius sweets that his wife had made (of course, Sirius was gracious and courteous and didn't inhale them until Smythe was out of sight). His other four meals were brought by a different prison guard who merely tossed his bowl at him through the bars with a disapproving glare.

He remembered when the matching promise ring that he and Cassie had exchanged fell off his finger; the horror of knowing that she was dead, and the physical pain and emotional turmoil that he experienced and the worry for his infant children...what was going to happen to them? James and Lily were gone, and he certainly didn't want his mother to take them in and two infants were too much for Theo to deal with; after all, he still had two young wizards at home and he just couldn't see doing that to the man...even if he was the best candidate. When Smythe tried to explain to Sirius that Cassie was alive and well, he didn't believe him; while he heard the words that he was reading from Remus' owl, they made no sense to him. He repeatedly thought: Remus...he has her to himself finally and that alone nearly drove him mad. He felt that she should be able to sense any wrongdoing from him, but if she were still enamored, would it blind her? He knew that Dumbledore would keep her and their babies safe. He talked to Smythe about trying to present his case to the Wizengamot regarding his innocence, but Smythe informed him that their minds were made up and there was no way he was leaving Azkaban, except in a pine box. He understood years later, that all of his heartache was the Dementor's doing and spent the last few years of his time as Padfoot, lying beneath the small table when alone in his tiny cell, therefore avoiding their influence. The only thing that kept him sane was his innocence...it wasn't an altogether happy memory.

He had become conscious of the fact that he felt like a prisoner in his own house at Grimmauld Place; unable to go anywhere or do anything he pleased, whenever he pleased. Living at the home he had with Cassie was proving to be only a matter of geography; he was still trapped...even if only because people he loved and who loved him surrounded him. He longed to ride his bike along a country road, to feel the rumbling power of the engine beneath him. He longed to walk into a muggle pub with his best girl by his side and order up a pint. He realized that he didn't know any popular songs on the radio; didn't know what was en vogue with fashion; he missed his work. Everything that he had taken for granted was no longer the standard.

Unable to return to sleep, he moved to pull his arm out from beneath Cassie's shoulder and stopped moving suddenly when she stirred and held his breath for a moment. When he was satisfied that she was still asleep, he rolled over and swung his legs over the edge of the bed and sat still for a moment. He looked at the electronic clock on her bedside table and it read 2:24 in large glowing green numbers, which partially illuminated her side of the room. He had no idea why he was awake, he only knew that he wouldn't be able to go back to sleep. He stood and reached for his denims and house shoes and slid his once muscular legs into the leg holes. He stood and stretched and ran his fingers through his hair and scratched his head and rubbed at the stubble on his face briskly. Sliding his feet into his house shoes, he returned the sheets and blanket back toward the pillows and reached out to move the hair from her face, causing her to wrinkle her nose and smile very briefly as she slept peacefully.

He moved across the room to the door and carefully turned the doorknob, opened the door, and stepped through it and closed it behind him just as carefully and quietly. He thought he would go downstairs and see if he couldn't find a book to read, to help tire his eyes. Quietly padding down the stairs, he saw the night light in the kitchen that gently illuminated the sink area spilling into the corridor. Looking around, he marveled at the immaculate cleanliness of the entire room; not like a typical wizard's home at all...he smiled to himself: that's the idea, he thought. He moved the curtain back of the window over the sink and peered into the darkness, seeing only his own reflection in the glass; he'd momentarily forgotten that he let Cassie cut his hair and his appearance shocked him a little. He sneered at his reflection and let the curtain fall back into place.