InsaneJournal

WHO: PoA!Sirius Black and Willow Rosenburg (Open to people who got texts)
WHAT: Sirius is pretty sure hanging in a strange flat isn't a good plan, so he heads for the streets.
WHERE: Colligo Streets
WHEN: This evening
RATING: TBD.
PROGRESS: In Progress

Sirius had woken up in a bed he didn't recognise and a flat he didn't know. It wasn't the first time - Muggles were bloody careless when it came to locking stuff sometimes, and when it had been raining for three days in a row and even Padfoot's fur wasn't keeping him warm he had occasionally been moved to breaking and entering. He always supposed the owners were on holiday or something. Still, he liked to think he was a very conscientious squatter. He always cleaned up after himself, for example. Once he had even fixed their broken sink with a wand he'd lifted off some elderly old Wizard. It had only run hot water, but for a freezing escaped convict that hadn't seemed like a bad deal.

It wouldn't be the first time he'd forgotten choosing a place to sleep, either. He forgot a lot things these days. The days and night all blurred into one and more than once he just let Padfoot decide where he was sleeping. He'd been heading North, he knew that much. North to Scotland and Hogwarts and Harry and Wormtail. He didn't know what the date was. Checking a newspaper didn't hold much appeal, not when he kept seeing his own gaunt face screaming out at him. He'd been proud of his hair once, for Merlin's sake. Still, it didn't matter. Nothing much mattered any more, apart from heading North. Maybe he'd frighten Peter this way. Good. He wanted him scared. He wanted him scared and begging and bleeding, and then he'd rip his heart out and it would be done. It would all be fair and over then.

Padfoot had found a darkened alley behind what smelled like a fast food place, and Sirius allowed himself to transform back for a moment to dig his dirty hands into an open bin, searching for something, anything, to satisfy the gnawing pain in his stomach. He could work out where he was later. Right now he needed to eat.

Shaking the sheet of filthy, matted hair from his eyes, Sirius pulled out an old chicken bone with a few scraps of meat attached and attacked it furiously, suddenly more dog than man as he squatted down in the shadows beside the bin. His Azkaban robes hung like rags off his bones, his muscles staining like cords of rope as his teeth ripped at the cold meat.