Killing Time to Damage Eternity
Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter. Written for the HPFC Flying Solo Challenge by Cuban Sombrero Gal.
X.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.X
Had Sirius ever been alone before?
When he was a kid, he'd always had his mother breathing down his neck. He could play with Regulus (the git) and Cissy (now the ever conceited and prim Narcissa Malfoy) or bother his father if he was lonely.
At Hogwarts he made fast friends with James, Remus, and eventually Peter.
James, however, was the issue here, because James was not actually present... or anyone else for that matter. Because James had gotten married yesterday to Lily. And Remus was quarantined for dragonpox. And Peter... well, who cared about Peter? So far as Sirius cared, no one really did, it wasn't like he did anything ever.
Sirius huffed and collapsed on the sofa in his flat. It was a small flat on Practick Alley, which connected Diagon Alley to the industrial district of Diurn Alley and ran through to the artistic street of Horizon Alley in a T shape. He didn't need anything bigger, since he lived alone (most of the time). For a moment, he wished very much that he had a telly, but then he remembered that muggle eckeltrocins didn't work in magical areas. Which was boring. And meant that he had absolutely nothing to do.
Mentally, he ran through a list of things that he could possibly find some interest in doing. Shopping? It was too late in the day. Go out to dinner? He'd already gone out to a high-end restaurant with Melissa – or was it Marissa? Melinda maybe? – not an hour before; he wasn't hungry anymore. He didn't even want to think about adding reading to the list... or (Circe forbid) visiting some family... although Andy was nice, and Dora was always a pleasure (provided she didn't jump in his lap knees first anymore; he wasn't entirely sure he'd ever be able to procreate).
"What to do..." he mumbled. "What a to do to die today, at a minute or two to two. A thing distinctly hard to say, but a harder thing to do..." he kept going, though why he didn't know. What was the point in reciting tongue-twisters? It kills the time, he supposed. After several renditions of "What a to do," "The lawyers awfully awkward daughter," and "A big black bug," that activity was getting old too. "She sat upon a slitted sheet; upon a slitted sheet see shat..." he stopped, giggled, and kept on working on that one until either he could say it right or it stopped being funny.
He lost interest before he could remember which came first.
"On the bright side," Sirius informed his ceiling, which was now the proud owner of several spit balls and wads of Drooble's Best Blowing Gum, "James will be back in two weeks."
Two weeks... of this...
At that moment, Sirius wasn't entirely sure that being in Azkaban could be worse than this. He would, in two years time, find out how horrible life without James really was, and how boring tongue-twisters really were.
X.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.X
A/n: Yeah... kinda fun, drabbly thing. :P