InsaneJournal

Characters: Sirius Black and James Potter
Date: December 17, 1976, night
Location: Potter Residence
Rating:
Summary: In which Sirius runs away
Status: In progress



Sirius was positive he was going to throw up, but his pale, paler than usual, hands somehow didn't shake as he thoughtlessly handed off money to inane drivers of the Knight Bus. The man who took his money asked him something and Sirius had mumbled a reply, but he couldn't remember what he'd said. He pulled his jacket tighter around him, wincing at the splash of soreness across his chest though the pain of it felt dull and distant. Like his skin couldn't feel properly anymore. He was certain he was going to throw up, and it had very little to do with the way the bus lurched.

He tried not to think. About anything. Not the panic in his veins or the echoes of his father's voice. So maybe that was why when he stumbled off the bus he was dully surprised to find he was someplace he recognized. He was near James's house. It occurred to him then that he must have planned to come here. It was strange and it wasn't. In his vehement desire to think of absolutely nothing he found himself absently musing over where else he could have thought he might possibly have been going. The leather shoulder bag he didn't recall bringing with him was chucked out the door of the bus, landing next to him before the night consumed the Bus. The sound of it hitting the ground pushed Sirius's feet forward.

Automatically, thoughtlessly, he grabbed the strap and slung it over his shoulder. He didn't remember packing it. He didn't remember just how many of his possessions he'd thrown into the charmed satchel. (And he did not think about how it was the bag he and Regulus had once used to hold their tent and clothes and snacks the summer night they had decided to try sneaking away to go camping.) It didn't matter. How could it possibly matter? He had everything he truly needed. Shoving a hand into the pocket of his long, heavy black coat, his fingertips brushed against cool length of his wand. Sirius halted, fighting the urge to jerk his hand away, and waited until it no longer felt as if his stomach was bottoming out. Gulping down crisp, frigid night air, trying to consume that sense of a numb void, he kept walking.

It was too late for the front door. He knew that much. Maybe if he didn't wake up James's parents- well, he didn't know what then, but it seemed like a good idea to avoid waking up James's parents. Mr. and Mrs. Potter were great, they were brilliant, but Sirius just didn't think he could take them looking at him right then. No, no he had to talk to James first. He found himself beneath James's window. For a split second he contemplated leaving. Maybe it would be better if he just... he had enough gold on him, he could probably get a- but by then his ungloved hands found themselves making a second snowball to pummel against James's window. The third must have contained a rock or a piece of ice because Sirius was positive he heard something that sounded like glass cracking. His nerves on edge, he waited, frozen, feeling a foreign sense of fear as he waited to see if he'd woken more Potters than he'd intended.

And he tried very hard to not throw up.