Sirius Black (master_snuffles) wrote in fourteenshades, @ 2014-03-16 22:08:00 |
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Entry tags: | !unlucky plot, x-narcissa malfoy, x-sirius black |
Who: Narcissa and Sirius
When: Evening of March 16th
Where: The Quidditch pitch
What: Finding Sirius and hopefully bringing him back to civilization
Rating: Not sure. A bit dark in the thread start at least. Possible trigger-warning for Dementor-related things?
It was cold in that way it became at night in the middle of the North Sea in early August. Sirius lay curled on the floor at the far end of his cell, right under the narrow sliver in the wall that acted as a window and tried to sleep. It was hard to come by, in Azkaban; there wasn't much to do to keep one occupied, but the cries of fellow inmates echoed and the wind howled, bringing an indescribable, inescapable stench. Every so often, Sirius would stop noticing it, but then wind would hit some dank part of the prison just so, and it once again became impossible to ignore. And then there were his thoughts. Nothing could keep you up like your own thoughts of vengeance and despair. Thankfully, the former kept the latter at bay most of the time, but it was enough to make anyone mad.
He could feel darkness come over him, an almost undeniable urge to rip his flesh open with his fingernails as punishment for his whole life, and Sirius screamed, focusing instead on Peter Pettigrew that rat, that traitor, he wanted him dead and he wanted to do the honours himself. The darkness receded slightly, but Sirius didn't stop screaming, not yet, not until he was sure that the Dementor had passed his cell for a happier, more hopeful inmate.
The transition was too smooth to notice. Sirius kept screaming, nails dug into his palms as he thought the darkest, meanest thoughts he could produce, keeping happier days gone by and his loved ones far from his mind. The echo of his scream died down to nothing, until it sounded like it was being swallowed by the air around him, which was clearly impossible. Sirius forced himself to scream louder, convinced that he was being pulled into a happy memory despite his best efforts, only stopping for breath when he couldn't go on any longer.
The breath he took was fresh. Too fresh. The memories could be vivid sometimes, but not like this. Sirius opened his eyes, but had to touch the snow before he could believe them. He was lying on snow. He lifted his eyes to the sky. Sky! Wide open sky! He could only barely make out the shapes of what looked for all the world like Quidditch goal posts.
This wasn't happening. It couldn't be happening. But yet...
Another fresh, frigid gust of wind blew his hair into his face. It was real. This was all real. Sirius barked his first laugh in months, unable to contain it. He didn't know how it had happened... but he was free!