Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter or any of its characters.

In The Silence

Sometimes, at night, he could still hear their screams. Their rage. Their tears. Their despair. Echoing in his head, calling for him, reaching for him. During the day, they are dimmed, almost silenced completely by the laughter and light. It was then that he could forget they existed, forget that they are all directed at him. But not now. Never at night.

He felt the burning sting of a slap across his face. His mother screamed, spit flying, grabbing him, shaking him until his teeth rattled. He heard his father speaking, not yelling but his words held no softness nor comfort. Only bitter hate and disapproval. He remembered running, running to his room, running away from the house - to where? where?! - running from everything that he'd known. Tears stained his face, his heart thumping hard in his chest as he disappeared into the night.

He curled to one side, clapping his hands to his ears in an effort to hush the sounds. He tried remembering the happier things, the better memories. Like the first prank he and James pulled. Like how they first became Animagus. Like the look on Remus' face when he found out that they could. Like when he was asked by James to be his best man for his wedding. Like when he was the first one out of their friends to be the first to hold Harry James Potter. Like how he was told minutes later to be Harry's godfather.

With a horrible jolt, he realized that Harry was falling, falling off his broomstick, the Dementors swooping down to claim their prey. No! he screamed, nearly racing out to the field. Not Harry. Please not him. He had only came out to watch Harry fly ... He was just as good as James ... Please ... Not him ...

His old friend Remus tried to confront him about this. He wasn't the only one noticing how he kept downing cup after cup of coffee during the night or the dark circles that blossomed under his eyelids. Dumbledore suggested he'd go to Madam Pomfrey. But what could that woman do for him? She'd never been to Azkaban before. She didn't know the true horrors of the Dementors and the nightmares they brought. He was the only one to escape and lived to tell the tale after all.

James gripped the front of his shirt, shoving him to the wall, his hands shaking with tight anger.

" Why did you do that?" he asked, his voice barely above a whisper.

He swallowed. He'd never seen James this angry. " It was just a -"

" A joke?" James laughed mirthlessly. " Your 'joke' almost got you expelled. We're lucky that Dumbledore swore Snivellus to secrecy. Or else, Remus would be expelled too."

The lump in his throat grew. " I didn't mean to -"

James released him, his expression emotionless. " I'm going to bed," he shortly said, walking away. The lump suddenly intensified and he felt like he would suffocate.

Madam Pomfrey gave him some Dreamless Potions and for a while, they worked. He could breath freely for once, both during the day and night. But she couldn't give him the Potions forever, lest he'd get too dependent on them. So they worked out a schedule, twice a week he'd get the Potions. And of two nights a week, he was guaranteed a perfect, dreamless night. But for the other five nights - not so much.

Heart pounding, he pressed his motorcycle's accelerator harder, urging it to go faster, faster, faster. He had to get to the Potter's now. After finding out that Peter was gone, all doubt vanished. Peter was the traitor. Not Remus. Then, a horrible feeling settled in his stomach. He had been pushing Remus away all this time, getting closer to Peter, speaking harshly to Remus if they did spoke at all, confiding in Peter instead.

Please let him make it, he begged. He did make it, but it was too late by then.

The Potter house was deathly silent. Only he could hear his own harsh breathing and heart thumping. As soon as he walked into the doorway, he saw it immediately.

James laid on the ground, still as stone, glasses askew, eyes still opened.

He didn't make a sound as he dropped next to James. His hand shaking as he reached out, he gripped James' arm, shuddering at how cold it was. He whispered James' name, again and again. But no one would answer. Gently, he cradled James' lolling head to his chest, fighting back the tears.

James Potter. His best friend. Dead. Gone. Forever.

He shivered, shoulders shaking. In an effort, he grabbed his shoulders, nails digging into them to stop them. But he couldn't stop this. This onslaught of nightmares and darkness. They were burned into his mind, imprinted at every corner, every inch. They only played over and over, happy to share their contents with him. He was tired. So tired. He wasn't sure how much more he could take of this. He buried his face into his hands, mouth soundlessly opening and closing, whispering to things in the dark. He told them to leave him alone and they simply replied they were having too much fun to leave.

" Why did you let me die?!" James demanded, eyes glaring and accusing.

" This is all your fault!" Lily, her beautiful face twisted, hissed.

" Voldemort always did choose those who are easily swayed by power." Dumbledore shook his head, a tear trickling down his beard.

" If only you trusted me," Remus whispered, sighing in defeat.

" Don't worry. You can trust me," Peter earnestly said, smiling wholeheartedly at him.

" Padfoot! Help me!" a child screamed before being taken away by seizing hands.

" Sirius?"

His head snapped up. His dark eyes met with bright, green ones. " Sirius?" Harry asked again.

He forced a smile. " What are you doing out so late, Harry?"

The boy shrugged. He looked so much like James when he couldn't think of a better answer. " Couldn't sleep," he admitted.

" Join the club." He patted the couch and Harry sat next to him, smiling gratefully at him. How long had it been? Since he'd been this close to another human being? Just being himself and not the serial killer? How he wished he could have those times one more time.

Then, Harry's eyes trailed over to the half-empty cup of now cold coffee next to him. " I didn't know you drank coffee this late," Harry remarked.

" Doesn't affect me," he offhandedly said. Coffee only worked in the beginning. The darker the night grew, the harder it becomes for the coffee to work its magic on him.

But something flickered in Harry's eyes. He knew that look well. It was the kind of look Lily had when she believed that someone wasn't being entirely honest with her. No wonder she made such a good Prefect and later, a Head Girl. She was just that good at detecting lies and half-truths. " Why are you here so late, Sirius?" he finally asked, his tone a little suspicious.

He sighed. With Remus, he could always shrug it off and pretend that it didn't bother him. Even with Dumbledore, he could put up some sort of defense that he was all right or at least, as all right he could be. But with Harry, he just couldn't.

" Can't sleep," he truthfully said.

" Is it the Dementors?" Harry quietly asked.

He always knew Harry was a sharp boy. " Yeah."

Almost instinctively, Harry reached out and gently touched his wrist, warm and very real. He closed his eyes momentarily at the contact, screams in the back of his mind softening and quieting. They weren't so loud anymore, he noted sleepily.

" Maybe there's something I could do," the boy offered, concern deep in his eyes.

Was it just him or did it no longer felt as cold and suffocating? " You're already doing it," he murmured.

Dimly aware that Harry somehow found a blanket and used it to cover him, he leaned back against the couch, head slipping sideways, close to Harry. He could inhale the sweet scent of shampoo from him. Harry shifted and he felt a head dip onto his shoulder. Harry's hand never did left his own hand.

" I'm here, Sirius," Harry said, sounding soothing and calm, like a melody to lull him to sleep.

How odd that their roles were reversed. That his godson comforted him, holding him close, protecting him from the nightmares, the madness, the darkness. But at the moment, he didn't care.

Harry was James. Harry was Lily. Harry was Remus. Harry was Harry. He was all of them. All that he needed to remember that there was good in the world.

And for him, that was enough.