DISCLAIMER: They're not any more mine than they were before.

WARNING: Yes, slash. Get over it.

Imprisoned

By

Lizzy Tears

We're supposed to be together, but it doesn't feel like it. We haven't been together in so long it almost hurts.

Not because I want you for sex (although I do, but it's more than that), but because you haven't relaxed at all. I want to take everything away and make it like it used to be.

Do you remember those days, Sirius?

I want to know why

You're letting this die

Remember when all that mattered was NEWT'S, pranks, detentions and each other?

But we can never have that back, can we? We can never see James tramping back up the stairs after Quidditch practice looking like he'd been dragged through a hedge backwards but grinning for all the world like he's won the World Cup and not a practice match.

Watching Lily mend James' glasses with a spell and his ego with a kiss are all just favourite memories now, aren't they?

Where do you reckon they go, Padfoot? The memories, I mean.

I don't know what you have in your mind, but one of my most poignant and bittersweet recollections is one you'll hate me for if I share it with you.

It's one of Peter.

Not Wormtail, he's a separate entity, a pseudonym taken too far.

No, I mean Peter.

It's not even an event, per se, but more an idea.

I can remember Peter as he used to be when we knew him.

All blond hair and smiles he was. A cheerful boy, I remember, with a friendly disposition that people laughed at for no reason.

Maybe that's why he turned, do you reckon?

Do you think it was because we never really took the time to get to know him properly? Did it hurt him to see people laughing at him? Did we wound him with our comments? I wouldn't know, would you?

I don't think we could have stopped him, though. He was always riding our coattails a bit, seeking power. Whoever was currently popular was his best friend.

We couldn't have stopped him, I'm certain. But maybe, maybe if we knew him better, we'd have been given a clue, something to make us think twice.

But we didn't, did we, so I guess there's no point dwelling.

You say it doesn't matter

Then tell me what does

And why that isn't what

You've been thinking of

You can't help but dwell, though, can you? Because dwelling has been your life for so long. Thoughts of revenge were what kept you going, I think.

I think of you now, locked in that cell all day, unable to stretch properly because of the manacles they put on you that you deny but which I have seen the scars of.

I see you sitting hunched on your tiny pallet looking out at the sky through a miniscule crack. Your face is raised and the moonlight bathes your skin, illuminating the changes I see now. A terrible stubble your former self would despise, eyes blood red and weary, oh so weary.

And you're broken, quite broken, with your spirit dying slowly inside you with no help from your vile captors.

But you're not defeated yet, are you? Something is keeping you going.

Sometimes when I'm lonely, I imagine you're thinking of me. Remembering all our nights, our kisses, our secret touches, that look you have no one but me and the way only you could stay with me when I changed.

When life keeps living

That's what life keeps giving

To us

I used to think like that a lot when it first hit me, when it was still hard to believe. I was caught up in emotions and thought that maybe, just maybe you still remembered, still cared.

Then I would realise, so bitterly, that you weren't kept going by thoughts of me.

Your mind was playing over the last time you saw Wormtail and what you wanted to do to him for what he'd done to us.

You say it doesn't matter

Then tell me what does

And why that isn't what

You've been thinking of

Then, when I realised that, I'd force myself to pretend I still thought you were thinking of me. It was nicer. But sometimes I couldn't pretend, just couldn't lie to myself anymore, and I'd wish you everything you got, because it's easier to hate a person if they're evil, than hate them when they're innocent.

But you're not evil, are you, Sirius?

Because if you were evil, then my world would make no sense. It hasn't made any sense since they took you, but why it has to start being logical when the rest of the world is facing insanity, I don't know.

I don't want to be important anymore, Sirius. I'm a key player in this war, too and I don't like it any more than the last. And now there's more at stake, because there's Harry, who was volunteered into this without a choice. At least we chose to be in the Order, Harry just is.

These are probably nothing more than the ramblings of an old man, to disregard as you please. I do feel old, Sirius. I feel like I've lived out my life 100 times over and still come back to the same place.

How do you feel, Sirius? Tell me, please. I don't know if I can help you, but maybe it will break the awkward silence between us when I hold you in my arms for just a moment, while you stand there stiffly and do nothing.

You became imprisoned

Can I reopen the door

That might be what hurts most of all. Your complete and total indifference towards me. You haven't said you love me, and I haven't said it to you. But you were the one who asked me about it.

You cornered me at the top of the stairs and put your hands on my shoulders. You looked into my eyes and asked if I still cared about you. When I said I did, you leaned and you kissed me. You used all the same tricks you used to, but somehow it felt empty. My skin didn't heat and my head didn't spin. Maybe because I could tell yours didn't either and half the fun of kissing for me had always been the intoxicating feeling of how I was making you feel those things. A vanity thing, I suppose.

So we barely touch anymore, and you have never felt further away although we share a house.

Sometimes I feel used. I swear to you, Sirius, that I wouldn't mind being used if I just knew what I'm being used for. If I knew, then I could harness that and give you more of it.

But you won't talk to me and I'm left in the dark while you descend into the darkness.

You became imprisoned

Can I reopen the door

I say things shouldn't be like this between us, but then I wonder what I'm comparing it to. Nobody has ever escaped from Azkaban and few ever get out, so who's to say all of this isn't what supposed to happen?

But I don't like it.

There used to a time, Sirius, not so long ago, that you were so in love with me, that all I had to do was mention a desire and you would, if you could, present me with it at the next opportunity.

Once we were one mind

Drifting in one time

And ever true

We were friends

But something is gone from my

Picture of this life

I never did find out how you found some of the things you gave me.

But that's all gone now.

All we have left of it are a few ornaments, broken dreams and shattered memories.

Dammit, I want you back, Sirius!

I mean, I don't want the old you back; I doubt I could keep up anymore. I want you to be who you would have been had Azkaban not happened. But that's a lie, too. All I want is you, Sirius, but I want you whole.

You're still many things, but you're not whole, are you? You're a broken, wretched, desperate, lonely, misunderstood, unhappy, empty man, but you're not whole.

You say it's never easy

Then tell me what was

Is it never worth the pain

Could you believe it was

I wish I could change that for you, but I don't have the ability – or you won't let me.

I hope you're finding solace in those bottles you keep downing, because you're certainly not finding it in me.

I hate seeing you like this; and now you know how very much I mean that because after experiencing so much hate and prejudice myself, I make a point of avoiding hate at all costs.

So yes, I hate that you're drinking your life away, that you haven't shaved in months and that your sorrows, far from being drowned, always appear alive and well at the end of your supply of alcohol.

The hope has vanished from your eyes

You were my faith and one truth

There's every reason to get through

And you're why I know there's a reason

When I try to tell you that you're not doing yourself any good, you glare and shout and throw me from your presence.

Sometimes I see hate in your eyes, and I think you sometimes believe I am Wormtail. I worry that you can't think any further than that, than revenge on him. I think his face hovers above you as you sleep, teasing, taunting and mocking in your dreams.

I want to tell you not to let him consume you, to rule you, but it's an empty line, and we would both think less of me if I were to vocalise it. I think you need Wormtail, don't you? He's your purpose in this life, without which you would sink further into your somnambulant state.

But why can't I be the one to whom you cling? Why can't you latch onto the beauty of what we had rather than the ugly vileness of revenge on Wormtail? You would have chosen the light over the darkness a long time ago.

If you would only see

Like you did before

Chosen to remember what was good over what was bad … but that was a long time ago, now, isn't it? Too long for you, it seems.

Am I being the hopeless romantic you always accused me of being, Padfoot? Am I expecting too much from the human spirit, of you? I wish you would tell me. Say anything at all.

You disappear into that room with Buckbeak when you get up and you don't come out usually until tea. I push food to you through the door when you're not looking. Sometimes you eat it, sometimes you don't.

I'm worried about you, Sirius. No matter how many different ways I find to say it, that's what it comes down to.

You became imprisoned

Can I reopen the door

It is this concern that has forced me to lock you in a room and try to talk some sense into you, or hex you, whichever comes first …

TBC (I hope)

AUTHOR'S NOTE

Well, what did you think? It's my first ever piece of angst and actually I'm pretty proud of it. Must be the most decent work I've actually written in ages. I have written a tiny bit of the next bit, but I don't really know if I like it so I might rewrite. Anyway, thanks to all who reviewed "Remus Lupin and the no good, very bad, terrible, rotten, no good day." I appreciate it very much! Lyrics are from 'Us' by Celine Dion. I wrote the story to that, but the lyrics don't fit quite as well as I thought they did. Oh well, if you have the song put it on when you read it.

And I got the most delightful surprise the other day; someone from fanfic actually followed me to fictionpress and reviewed something there! Grins wildly Thank you so much Sanguisiphiliac! Talking about God's Bane, though, the problem is that it was written … four years ago, now, when my writing style was even worse than now. So that's hence the overall badness of the story. I'm going to take it down from fictionpress soon, but if you want it, I'll e-mail it to you. I used to really like it and I think it's an okay idea for a story, but yes, it was abysmally written. I'm going to take down all the Amath stories, and hopefully rewrite them, but it doesn't look too good. Oh well. Anyway, thanks so much for reviewing! Love you always!

Has anyone noticed the lack of good one shot slash SiriusRemus's just lately? I have. I have read every fluffy one shot Sirius Remus on this site (it's taken almost a year) and now I have nothing, nothing! Everybody, I think we need to get out our pens and paper or computer keyboards and start writing! I'm going to try; I'm on a week holiday now so I should get rid of my Writer's Block readers shudder in horror and recognition and everyone has to help me! Slash fanfiction writers of the world unite! Yay!

Okay, thanks so much for reading this far and I hope you liked the story. As always, reviews would be nice, but I just hope you enjoy reading!

Love always,

LizzY ;D