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Note- Okay, my formatting takes out apostrophes. I don't have time to fix it. Sorry, but I guess you'll just have to deal with it until I can go back and fix it. Anyway, about the fic... apparently, when I pour out my pain and grief, it becomes surreal. Sorry. There will be undercurrents of seriousness, and I promise what is transpiring will become a bit more clear. This is dedicated to all the Sirius fans... Something cheery to soothe the pain.
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It was hard to take, for the second time.
Losing him once had been hard. Harder than he had ever believed a loss could be. Being isolated like that, staring at the ceiling day after day, the dank air surrounding him and chilling him, forcing him to remember that he was alone...
Hed be so sure hed never have to feel that again.
Losing James and Lily... it had been a shot to his heart, an icy cold lump that fell to the pits of his stomach and refused to be dislodged. Even in the days after, those terrible days, it had been hard to believe that they were really gone. He would never see them smile again, never hear them laugh again, never feel the sound slap of Lilys hand upside his skull when he did something stupid, never argue with James over a Quidditch goal again...
And to lose Remus. It had killed him inside to leave his friend behind, to leave him in the world thinking he had been forever betrayed and deserted. To have him believe all the wide-eyed and innocent promises they had made were swept away into the dust.
And now... losing Harry.
It was selfish to think only that way, but he couldnt help it... Harry had been so dear to him, like a son, like a little brother. Something to focus on when the pain gnawed too deep. Harry needed him. He had to be there for his godson, to protect him, to save him, to... to be there for him, to be his friend, so he didnt have to be alone...
And now they were all gone.
Empty chairs at empty tables.
And yet, again, it was him who had left them. Always him, deserting those he loved to struggle on through the pain of life alone.
But there was no escape this time.
He had never really been afraid to die. It wasnt death that frightened him, or pain... none of that mattered, really. He just was so afraid to be alone... to be left alone for eternity... or to just not feel... What was it like, to not exist anymore...?
Sirius had no idea how much time had passed. He couldnt see, couldnt feel anything past the tips of his fingers... It was the state of being just barely awake, just able to be aware that he even had a body... or did he? It was really impossible to tell, in the murkiness. But his mind raced. He thought, he seethed, he longed... And yet... was he walking? Was he breathing?
Was there really a body there at all?
His lips would have curled into a thin smile, if he could be sure they were there. What a stupid thought. It didnt matter anymore. He was dead. He was dead, because hed gotten careless. And Harry had seen it all, and Remus, and whoever else had been there in that terrible brawl.
Ghosts are simply the trace spirits of wizards who could not cross the final barrier.
He didnt know what class he had learned that in. It had been on a test somewhere... he could still hear Remus quoting it back at him, that twitch starting in his brow that always poked up when he was tired. It had never mattered much to him before... But, was this the final barrier? Or was it past the final barrier?
He hadnt been afraid.
He had died for Harry, and he would do it again.
But it wasnt necessary.
He didnt know that, though. Maybe, in the grand scheme of things, there was a reason hed had to die. Maybe the same reason Lily and James had died. Maybe there was a reason for everything. Maybe...
Maybe hed never had a chance.
Sirius shook the thought away as soon as it had come, viciously, like a hunting dog with a rat. That was a load hed have expected from a Divinations teacher, the great rot that it was. Of course hed had a chance. There was always a chance, for everything. But the cards had fallen the wrong way for the last time, for him. Maybe he could escape Azkaban, but nobody slipped through the prison bars of death.
Nice lyric. You should have headed that band after all.
It was a nice idea, that was true.
But hed been defeated, in the end. Hed looked Death in the face and taken it like a man... Protected those he loved with his life. It was all he could ask for, really, to die like a hero. In a sense. Harry had gotten away, and that was all that mattered.
Harry had been saved. He knew that, somehow.
The universal consciousness is telling you things, Padfoot. Time for a nap.
He would have laughed if he knew how, without lungs... or maybe he had lungs. He hadnt quite felt that out yet.
But... to be defeated...
Youve always been a sorry loser.
That was the truth of it. He always had been able to find a loophole before. Even in losing to James at card games... there was always a mistake in dealing, always a minor rule violated. Sirius Black did not lose. It wasnt in his vocabulary.
Yeah. Like diplomacy. And obfuscate.
Never say die, that was his motto.
And horribly ironic, that was.
To lose, to die... To be summarily defeated.
It just didnt seem real. He still felt so vibrant, so thrumming with life... Didnt the dead feel dead? He wasnt a ghost. If he was a ghost, he would be roaming about the Ministry and walking through walls by now. Was the end of life really this intolerable? He couldnt take this for eternity. For Merlins sake, he was already bored, and he was quite certain the school year wasnt even over yet.
He hoped they cremated him. The idea of worms crawling all over a makeshift coffin wasnt rather appealing... Though he would make good fertilizer for Remuss vegetable garden. Moony did love picking out tomatoes and making salads. Never mind that he hated tomatoes, they grew best. He never did get to show Harry the rampant zucchini patch that had started out by the woods... They had planted three seeds, and the things were the size of a small cat. And almost as fuzzy...
His mind was fluttering and wandering like mad, pausing on one memory or wish for seconds at a time, then moving to another just as swiftly. He had already mentally recited the users guide to his old motorbike from Chapters One through Eight when the finality of this struck him.
In Azkaban, he could look forward to death.
What could he look forward to now...?
Certainly not the end of things, if this was the afterlife. Being left for eternity with his own thoughts. A sure madness if there ever was one.
An uncertain fear had begun to simmer in the back of his thoughts. This... this couldnt really be it... how could this be all? To live for so long, thinking the end of the road was all fluffy clouds and sparkling angels... or at least something to do, something to occupy himself with! How could this be all? Where was the eternal rest, where was the just desserts? All this was- all this was just a bad case of insomnia without the option of getting out of bed and doing something.
But this was forever...?
He couldnt take this! God, hed rather be in the old Christian Hell! Hed rather suffer an eternal Christmas dinner back home than this, being left alone with his own guilt and uncertainty, his own tortured brain, for all of eternity! Hed do anything- God, he would be willing to do almost anything-!
"Ahhh. The magic words."
The voice invaded his senses with all the grace of a tiger on a killing spree- that was to say, morbidly graceful with just an edge of zealous glee. The murky blackness he suddenly registered as the insides of his eyelids parted into a white light, a piercing white light...
A piercing white light suddenly fouled by the ink stain that was Severus Snape.
"You!" The oath snapped out of a mouth he was just now aware of, his senses flooding into limbs and torso, into the fingers that swept raven hair from his face, into the feet that tingled cold on a tile floor. "What the Hell are YOU doing here, you little snotrag on the floor of human existence? I died honorably! I shouldnt have to deal with YOU-"
"Oh, honestly," sneered the black-robed apparition. "Youre dealing with your own psyche, so stop yelling before you rupture a nerve."
A hand went obstinately for the wand he carried at his hip, only to brush cold skin. Sirius glanced irritably downwards, blinked stupidly at his own nakedness for a full five seconds, then swore filthily and covered himself with his hands, for a lack of a better idea.
"Oh, did I forget to mention youre without all earthly possessions? How silly of me."
In the midst of colorful descriptions of why exactly Snape might like to see him in his altogether, Sirius noted an easy chair in the corner of his vision. The moment the apparition in dusty robes went to rub his temples in disgust, he made a beeline for it and wrapped the flowered shawl on the back around his waist. Thus satisfied with his appearance, he coughed and determined to be more polite.
"So what the Hell are you doing in my afterlife, o greasy wanker?"
Snape sighed, an obviously forced note of regret echoing in the tone, and sat heavily in the armchair, the only apparent furnishing. "Getting your ungrateful attention. Now, since that unpleasant task is accomplished, perhaps it would be better to dredge up a better memory..."
"...One youd be more likely to listen to rather than throttle," finished the easy grin of James Potter.
Sirius stared blankly for a long moment, the appearance of his long-dead best friend taking quite a while to sink in. His voice was weak, as were his knees, and so the faint whisper came as he sat heavily on the tiled floor. "P-Prongs?"
James smiled warmly, fiddling with the chair until a footrest sprung up from its bottom half. "Are you really that surprised to see me?" he rebuked, leaning back comfortably. "After all, were in the same plane now."
"But..." Sirius was aware that his wide eyes were beginning to water. "James, I..." He stood up again, uncomfortably, and gratefully took the chair that materialized next to him. "I- I just dont get whats going on... I think..."
"Youre dead," his best friend supplied helpfully.
"Im aware of that," Sirius snapped, leveling a glare. "That doesnt explain why the Hell Snivellus was poking around. Hes certainly not dead."
It was a long moment before James answered, his hazel eyes regarding the nonexistent ceiling. Sirius shifted uncomfortably, arranging the flower shawl. This... this just didnt feel right... Why did he still feel like blood was pumping in his veins, like his heart was still beating...?
"Okay, Padfoot. Heres your situation." Jamess voice was clear and calm, just like when he was espousing his latest prank idea. "Youre dead, obviously. But you havent crossed over."
"But Im not a ghost," Sirius interjected. "Ghosts just stay where they died. Im... wherever I am..." He eyed the room suspiciously, wondering where the end of the floor was, or if it just ran straight into the wall...
"Yeah, Im getting to that, mate." James rummaged in his pockets, pulled out nothing but wrinkled wrappers, and sighed regretfully. "Sorry, guess I ate the rest of them."
Sirius glared at him wordlessly.
"Okay, okay!" James sighed, then leaned back again. "First off, dont get your hopes up... Like Snivellus said, youre talking to your own mind."
Sirius opened his mouth, then closed it again, utterly baffled.
"You didnt cross over when you died, like youre supposed to. Like you said, youre not a ghost, but thats because ghosts still cling to life, because theyre scared to move on, or because they still have things to do. You werent scared to die. You didnt have things to resolve. So youre not a ghost. Do you understand that much?" James spread his hands, blinking at him woefully.
"I have that... its just that-"
"Patience, dear Padfoot, patience..." The hazel eyes were beginning to sparkle now, the familiar glint of mischief almost back. "So you arent clinging to life, but as you havent crossed over, theres only one possibility left..."
"That being?" Sirius leaned forward, almost unconsciously.
"Life is clinging to you."
"Well, that makes perfect- What?"
James shrugged. "Theres someone still living that has such a powerful tie to you that they cant let you go. Maybe more than one person. Maybe its the whole bloody country, who knows. But someone is holding you to life."
Sirius stared down at his hands, a distinct ache gnawing at his heart. Harry... Remus... He had left them behind yet again. Harry, losing another father. Remus, losing the friend and lover hed thought he had lost forever.
"Soooo..." Hazel eyes bored into him, and Sirius blinked guiltily up from his reverie. "You have two options, as I see it."
"I thought you said you were my psyche." Sirius raised an eyebrow tiredly. This was starting to give him a headache. It wasnt fair to be dead with a headache... was there nothing to look forward to?
"Oh, good call." James winked. "You have a point there. I suppose you want me to explain that."
"Not really, not at all." Sirius rubbed his temples. At this point, he would rather not know. He was well used to his brain doing strange things... it had been the only thing to keep him alive in Azkaban for a good long time. This was just one more, he supposed. "What are my two options, psyche?"
"One, you remain in limbo and entertain yourself for eternity."
Sirius shuddered reflexively. He had been out there five minutes and had already longed for oblivion.
"Two, you pay the obligatory heinous price and you find some way to scrabble your way back to life."