Prisoner Grim

By Spectra16 (Andrew Jackson kills kittens with his bare hands.)

Summary: Sirius talks with a counselor in Azkaban about his life prior to his imprisonment. Angst. Romance. SBRL.

A/N: For those of you who hate fanon, Sirius/Remus is either canon or a very GAY series of coincidences. I got this idea from on of Cobalt Violet's (the best SBRL writer ever) fan fictions. I wanted to elaborate on it and add to it. Like my other HP fic, this is pretty epic and tells a bigger story. From the critical side of my conscious, this fic is just one big reason to practice a whole story and write a lot of smut.

Music to listen to for this story? Well, the angst parts go directly to Clint Mansell for his Requiem from a Dream. I love Paul Oakenfold's rendition in Zoo York. Rasputina, David Byrne, Death Cab for Cutie, and Rufus Wainwright are all advised as well.

And if you're wondering what I'm doing wasting my time on a SBRL story instead of working on A Dreadfully Convenient Crossover 2, I'm not going to work on it until school ends. I'm sorry. But I never have the urge to write ADCC unless it's summer.

WARNING: I love me alliteration!

-.-.-.-.-.-

Chapter One: One Motivating Force

Cold, gray eyes almost didn't want to look up at whoever was coming into the cell. Curled black hair fell into view as the man put his head down and leaned back in his bed. Cool, artificial air probed at his organic skin, almost begging to saturate him. Expensive shoes clicked on the floor and a rustling of keys echoed in the hallway. A man down the way heard the keys and started babbling to himself earnestly. A faint echo could be heard by the rest of the inhabitants of Cell Block 16, the home of murders and anarchists.

The bars slid open in a mechanical way. The therapist wore a brown, tweed jacket and trousers, with a glint of sadness in his eyes. Working in this place was not ideal, but it paid so much better than working in a regular hospital facility or mental institution. The guard motioned for him to sit in a chair he'd brought specifically for him. It was cushioned and swiveled. His patient's eyes remained plastered to the wall next to him, as if he was watching it, awaiting it to move or open up for his escape. Maybe he didn't want to escape anymore. Maybe he just wanted to die.

"Sir," the guard nodded at the therapist, and he nodded back. The only form of protection against the murderer walked a few steps, haunting the hallway, walking up and down, inspecting the other men.

The therapist sat down and scooted closer to Sirius Black. The Potter's murderer would never know the therapist's real name, but it didn't really matter to either of them. Until today, Sirius had never bothered to speak to him. When Dr. Algernon Blight heard Sirius asked to see him, he'd cancelled everything he had planned. Even Azkaban's biggest basket case Tom Turner had been put on hold, which might bring him to a mental break down, considering no one visited him except the good doctor.

An eerie air sat between the two men. The doctor folded his hand and leaned forward in his chair, hoping that Sirius would glance at him.

"What is it, Mr. Black?" Dr. Blight asked. He'd always made it his business to be courteous of even the coldest killers in Azkaban. Sirius didn't look up. Instead he ignored the man and shrugged.

"You must want to talk to me about something. You called me down here," Dr. Blight said gently. Sirius shifted in his seat. He looked up at the therapist with icy eyes, looking as if he hadn't shaved in a few days. Blight was aware of how old Sirius was according to his records but he never would've guessed Sirius was that young. Wrinkles riddled his face, which hit every resident in Azkaban within weeks. The change in personality was so sudden. Therapists were armed with electric batons meant especially for putting patients down if for any reason one moment they were fine, and the next they were not. Dr. Blight feared Sirius was nearing that inevitable time of uncontrollable desire to escape. He'd been attacked quite a few times in Azkaban, but he understood it was just another consequence of working here.

Azkaban had very obvious effects. Everyone turned out the same in the end, a pile of unhappy mush. And after five years of studying Azkaban patients, Dr. Blight realized that there was only one way to retain sanity; focus on revenge.

It's funny, Algernon thought randomly, that we refer to murderers as patients here.

Sirius opened his mouth, bringing the therapist back to him. He didn't say anything, but it was obvious that he meant to. With arms glued to his sides, Sirius cleared his throat.

"Can I tell you something?" Sirius said in a hushed whisper. Dr. Blight nodded solemnly.

"Of course, sir. That's what I'm here for," He replied. Sirius held himself tightly.

"I don't care if you don't believe me," He said quieter than before, "But I didn't kill my best friends."

Dr. Blight was a sucker for patients who claimed they were innocent. He'd almost been fired once for sympathizing for a death row patient. It was his first year working at Azkaban, and even after all these long, dreadful days in the worst place on earth, Dr. Blight could remember the man's name. Adam Richards. He'd killed his wife and four children and it was clear that he was guilty. With such a deceptive and conniving personality, it would be only natural to sweep your therapist up with false stories about your innocence. But even now, Dr. Blight wondered if maybe Adam Richards was not guilty. Algernon had almost been denied the position when he applied because he was so young. He'd pulled by with his credentials and the assurance of a certain wizardry school Headmaster who pleaded with the Ministry of Magic.

"He was my best mate. James Potter-," Sirius voice cracked in it's low murmur. His lip quivered and eyes watered. "I'd never kill his wife. Never. They were so happy together."

Already Dr. Blight's eyebrows were in a twisted mess of sympathy. His first few sentences shared with Sirius Black had just been spoken and already the doctor believed him. This was not a sign of Sirius' persuasive nature. This was Blight's irrefutable gullible nature.

"I know this may be hard, Mr. Black, but what pushed you to try to kill yourself?" Dr. Blight asked quietly. Sirius turned over his wrist and studied the scabs that was the result of too much thinking. "The doctors were very concerned about you. They said you were having hallucinations. Is it something you'd like to talk about?"

Sirius nodded, seemingly to collect his thoughts much better. One more step towards being less distant. His baggy prison jump suit draped over his thin body. And with a distressed look, Sirius forced eye contact with his therapist.

"You know, he'd be so mad if he knew I tried to kill myself," Sirius had a sour smile on his face, begging the therapist to ask questions. Dr. Blight crossed his arms.

"Who's 'he'?" The doctor asked. Sirius' heart surged with pain, dropping slowly into his stomach.

"My best friend," Sirius spoke quietly.

"Oh. James," Dr. Blight spoke obviously. Sirius shook his head calmly. Dr. Blight now noticed Sirius' hands were steadily shaking, not completely visible, but just enough.

"No. The only one who walks in freedom. . .," Sirius faded back into his mind. Dr. Blight could not imagine what he was on about now and wondered why Sirius' sanity seemed to come and go. He's definitely teetering on that fine line. If he wasn't dangerous before, he certainly is now. Dr. Blight wondered how he'd continue this conversation while Sirius dropped awkward pauses.

"Tell me, Sirius, how did you meet James Potter?"

"I didn't kill him."

"I didn't say you did," Dr. Blight was trying to maintain his patience. There were far worse people than Sirius Black in Azkaban, with twice as much attitude and anger. Ironically, most of them were related to Black in some way.

"Why do you want to know about James?" Sirius was about to hiss.

"No one's going to believe you didn't kill him unless we know about your relationship with him," Dr. Blight said persistently. Sirius bit his lip and cursed.

"He's the reason why I'm here! James and . . .him," Sirius said, his voice lathered with loathing. Dr. Blight sighed.

"Who is 'him'?" Dr. Blight asked impatiently. Sirius ran a shaky finger over his collar bone.

"Remus Lupin," He spat. Dr. Blight nodded, not knowing who it was, but it didn't matter.

"Is this the best friend you were referring to?" He asked analytically. Sirius nodded, still looking bitter as ever.

"He's not my friend," Sirius sneered. Dr. Blight saw what Sirius was getting at and even though he was against assumptions, he spoke up.

"What happened?" Dr. Blight asked, looking as concerned as possible. Sirius threw his legs over the beg to face the doctor. Propping up a thin pillow to lean against, Sirius prepared himself for a story he'd told himself many nights.

"I think he killed James and Lily."

"Why?" Dr. Blight asked.

"There were only five people who knew where they were hiding- James, Lily, Peter, Remus, and I. James, Lily, and Peter are dead! And I sure as hell didn't fuckin' kill my best friends! Just because I'm a Black means I'm guilty. Well, if the Ministry knew what Remus is, they wouldn't even have considered me a suspect!" Sirius screamed violently, his face shaking with rage. But inside, Sirius was more furious with him and the fact that even though Remus killed his friends and left him in Azkaban, he couldn't bring himself to tell anyone about his secret. His 'furry little problem' as they used to call it, back when they were mates.

Ignoring the last comment about Remus, Dr. Blight nodded and listened intently. He started, "You're family does have an extensive history of violence. With all due respect, they can't overlook your infamous family." Sirius buried his face in his hands and muttered.

"History. . .," Sirius scoffed. "They have an extensive history of being complete and utter hypocrites. They have an extensive history of idiocy and . . ."

"Sirius, you need to calm down," Dr. Blight said gently. Sirius did then, massaging his temples with his eyes tightly shut. Wrinkles moved and straightened with each tug at his face. Dr. Blight assumed everyone was younger than they looked in Azkaban. Some were better than others, but no one was left unchanged.

"Could I get something to drink?" Sirius asked quietly. Dr. Blight nodded and stood up with the prisoner. Sirius pushed himself to his feet, understanding the routine. Dr. Blight motioned for the guard to open the gate. He looked at the doctor in a strange way when he realized Sirius was ready to leave with him.

"We're getting a drink," Algernon explained. The guard nodded silently and opened the bars. Sirius' heart surged with a pulse that happened to all Azkaban patients. It was the insatiable surge of energy to run as fast as you could and as far away as possible to claim revenge or gain freedom. Sirius had just recently come to terms with the fact that he just wanted to die and that escape was pointless. But the more he thought about it, the more he realized how sweet and beautiful it would be to have revenge on Remus.

-.-.-.-

Sirius sipped apple juice from a plastic cup and surveyed the cafeteria around him. A few people were sparsely placed at several tables, all of them eating with either an accompaniment or alone. Sirius sat across from Dr. Blight, watching the man, wondering if maybe he could be his ticket out of Azkaban.

"Do you feel better?" Dr. Blight asked, sounding genuinely concerned. Sirius nodded without a word. "Do you still feel like talking?"

Sirius shrugged, watching a man across from him in the cafeteria. Dr. Blight did not recognize the man Sirius was watching. He must've been new because he walked like he had yet to be broken. The man's moppy brown hair was every which way and his body was thin. His chest was puffed out, as if he thought he had to seem tough in order for other prisoners to keep away from him. Azkaban was different like that. Sure, there were clashes on personality (like anywhere) but after being there for a certain amount of time, everyone realized it was better to stick together, rather than have cliques-or rather, gangs.

One could argue muggle jails were worse than Azkaban. Every bit of comfort in a muggle jail could be easily taken away from you. Sirius had visited a relative as a teen, his older cousin, who was in a muggle jail for drug trafficking. David had told Sirius how terrible it was- the fights, the gangs, the rapes, the isolation was too much for a young man to take.

"There's this elevator," David started, whispering into the phone on the other side of the glass from Sirius, "-we use it for moving throughout the cells and wherever. We carry portfolios that state where we're going. There aren't any guards on the trip, so you never want to go on it."

Sirius didn't quite understand why David looked so frightened or why he was telling him this. The young Black wasn't naïve at age thirteen, but he couldn't fathom why David was shivering.

"Rarely do you have someone to back you up, and when you don't, you pay for it. Usually, we're given forty bucks a month to buy snacks from the upstairs area only accessible by that elevator. Sometimes you never keep the stuff. And don't you dare refuse anyone what you have!" David started yelling at Sirius as if it was his lesson to learn about life. Sirius dumbly nodded, wondering when his mother would come to relieve him of this awkward conversation.

"Do you have anyone to help you?" He asked, clenching the handle of the phone in his hand, leaning forward. David nodded, never taking his eyes off of Sirius.

"I may have someone, but there are times when I don't," His said darkly. Sirius cringed, letting thoughts whisk him away into pity for his cousin. "Trust me, Sirius. You do not want to be here."

But Sirius was there with his cousin, in the same mind set, the same despair and anticipation for freedom. But not the same place. Not by far.

"Mr. Black?" Dr. Blight asked, waking Sirius from his thoughts. He jerked, seeing that the doctor had been watching him while he recalled that vivid memory of his cousin in jail.

"I'm sorry. I was thinking," Sirius put his cup down. Dr. Blight crossed his arms and nearly smiled.

"Feel free to talk with me about whatever, whenever," He welcomed. Sirius nodded.

"I don't think I'm ready today, sir. I'll call for you some other time," Sirius gave the doctor an apologetic look. Dr. Blight sighed. He stood up and shook Sirius Black's hand. The man turned and walked out of the cafeteria without another word, still wondering if Sirius was stable or not.

There was enough evidence against it, but at the same time, he seemed together. Sirius Black had just tried to kill himself and he was exactly like how any mentally unstable, shaken up momma's boy was, but he also acted serene.

Dr. Blight returned to his office and checked the records for who had come to see Sirius in all the years he'd been at Azkaban. His mother had come once, but absolutely no one else had. This wasn't so unusual for Azkaban prisoners. It only took one relative to realize how unpleasant the place was.

The doctor sat back in his chair, wondering if Sirius would call on him again.

-.-.-.-.-.-

"How did you get a hold of metal?" Tussie grabbed Sirius' shoulder in a friendly way. Sirius blanched and crumpled up his plastic cup and threw it away.

"It's a secret," Sirius spoke sternly. Tussie tightened his face. He looked to the left and saw Sigmund walking towards them.

"Come on, who did you get it from? Did someone come see you?" Tussie insisted. Sirius shook his head, black hair wiggling back and forth. Sigmund, a hulking mass murderer (more than 2 meters tall) from Wales came toward the two men who were talking in hushed voices. With no manners at all, Sigmund cut in.

"There's a new guy," Sigmund stated.

"No. No one came to see me," Sirius continued. "No one gave it to me."

"Then how did you get it?" Tussie inquired. Sirius slyly smiled.

"None of your damn business!" Sirius ran his hand through his hair, feeling rather proud of himself now. "I'm a wizard. I tell my secrets to no one."

Tussie rolled his eyes and turned to Sigmund.

"What were you saying, Sig?" Tussie asked. Sigmund gritted his teeth.

"There's a new guy here! His name is Graham. Jus' arrived in the morning," Sigmund looked down at the feeble looking Tussie.

"Wup-dee-fuckin'-doo," Tussie pretended not to care. "What's he here for?"

"Some sort of sexual assault. He was talking about it before, but I wasn't really listening," Sigmund admitted. Tussie clicked his tongue.

"Dumb brute," Tussie muttered and walked away to get a snack. Sirius looked up at Sigmund, all the while, Sigmund watched Tussie's back expressionless.

"You know, Sig," Sirius started, "You could easily beat the respect out of Tussie Mussie." Sigmund only nodded a little. The two stood in silence until Tussie returned with a jello cup.

"Seriously, I want to know how you did it," Tussie said with a mouthful of jello. Sirius looked at him blankly.

"Did what?"

"The metal shard."

"No," Sirius replied coldly. "The secret impresses no one."

"Wait, what happened?" Sigmund asked. Sirius stayed silent, knowing Tussie wouldn't have a problem informing him.

"Sirius got a hold of a shard of metal and tried to kill himself. Poor bastard couldn't even manage that, even when he had the materials!" Tussie laughed and dug a spork into the red liquid-solid. Sigmund looked down and patted Sirius on the back.

"Did you just find it?" Sig asked.

"You could say that," Sirius didn't feel as good about taunting Sig with his accomplishment. "I no longer believe stable people can consciously kill themselves anymore."

"Why?" Sig asked inquisitively.

"You hear about movie stars and regular people killing themselves, and after you hear that, you hear 'They were on drugs and mixes and medication', you know? The human mind is far to intelligent to let it happen without being out of your mind," Sirius said sadly. Sig nodded quietly. Tussie just watched them.

"That was deep. Remind me to write a poem," Tussie scraped jello from the bottom of the cup. Both Sig and Sirius breathed deeply and gave him an impatient look.

-.-.-.-.-.-

Hot water dripped over Sirius' body, steam billowing through the room making it hard to breath. He parted his hair over and over again to completely soak his head. The sound of several shower heads ran with a hot stream of water. There were at least ten other men in the room and Sirius tried to avert his eyes. It was getting harder and harder to mind his own business in the showers. There was an unspoken "Don't ask, don't tell" policy about homosexuality in Azkaban, which everyone abided by. Sirius found himself deeply conflicted by this capping of raging hormones.

Tussie was next to him, lathering his hair with generic soap. Sirius watched him with his peripheral vision, not wanting anyone to know about him being gay, especially not Tussie. He had a habit of ridiculing people until they couldn't stand it anymore. Tussie was not a big man, but he definitely had something big to prove. With his sandy blonde hair and amber eyes, Sirius found himself attracted to him, but deathly afraid of that attraction. It had taken Sirius a few weeks to realize how alike him and Remus looked. Tussie's personality was the farthest thing from Lupin's though, but physical lust cared nothing for what was true.

"Give me the soap," Sirius muttered, running fingers down his arms. Tussie looked over and then back nervously, grabbing the bar of soap on a ledge. Sirius grabbed it too hard and it skidded across the floor. Sirius knelt over to retrieve it and raised his head to find Tussie's. The smaller man laughed and pushed Sirius' face away. Black glared at him and continued to wash.

"My little girl is coming to see me today," Tussie said finally, breaking the silence. Sirius put the bar down and put his back to the water.

"How old is she?" Sirius asked in a deep voice.

"Eight," Tussie replied.

"Aren't you afraid the dementors will scare her away?" Sirius wondered. Tussie let water run through his ear.

"I've been waiting four years for her to visit me once," Tussie emptied the water by jerking his head. "I miss my little Kelsey."

"Well, I'm happy for you. No one visits me," Sirius spat, rinsing his long hair. "All of my friends think I murdered my best mate, and my family is proud of what I didn't do, so I scared them off. Told them I never wanted them to see me again." Tussie put on a sympathetic look.

"I just realized we've never talked about family before," Tussie turned the knob on the shower. "It's nice. You seem less like a cold-blooded Death Eater when you talk like that." The man grabbed his white towel and ran it through his hair. Sirius looked back at him, his heart skipping a beat.

"I'm not a Death Eater. I'd have a bloody tattoo on my arm if that was true."

"I know, Sirius. You know what I mean," Tussie then wrapped the towel around his waist and leaned back on the wall. He looked over to his left and called to Sigmund.

"Hey, Sig. You got a cig?" Tussie smiled teasingly. Sigmund didn't turn around but instead rolled his eyes.

"You're not the only one with an inconvenient name, Sirius," Sigmund called out through the mist. Sirius smiled faintly and turned the water off. Ignoring Sig, Tussie focused his attention on Sirius.

"So no one visits you ever?" He asked. Sirius nodded, drying off. "Did you have a girlfriend? Did she dump you?"

Sirius bit his lip and looked at Tussie. "No, I didn't have a girlfriend."

"No kids?"

"No kids."

"Wow. You truly have no one. Didn't you mention you had a brother once?" Tussie asked.

"Yeah. Regulus. He is forbidden to see me in . . . person," Sirius spoke in a vague way. Sig slowly walked over to his friends and handed them both a cigarette. Tussie laughed.

"He had one after all," Tussie smiled and lit his with a match. He took a drag and blew the smoke in Sirius' face with a devious, almost sexual look in his tawny eyes. Sirius batted it away and grimaced. He delicately took a smoke from Sig's pack and lit it with a lighter he'd gotten from god knows where. Everyone had their ways of getting what they desired. The secret impresses no one, Sirius thought and smiled.

-.-.-.-.-

Sirius laid awake in his bed, waiting for the dreaded dementors to pass at ten. In the bunk next to him, Tussie was already asleep, even though he knew the dementors would wake him. His soft snoring was so hauntingly similar to Remus'. I'm going to end up killing this man, only because he reminds me of the man who's killing me. Sirius' fingers dug into his sides, cradling himself in his stiff bed. Stress built up in Sirius' forehead, and a sick feeling of unhappy anticipation for the dementors pressed hard on his soul. His stomach churned, knowing what was coming. Every bit of happiness, every feeling of comfort was about to be drained from him before he was about to sleep. It was hard to fall asleep with that kind of depression, that kind of hatred for yourself. It made him want to kill himself again.

Sirius broke out in tears, like most men in Azkaban before the rounds. It was a strange feeling, to feel like a child in the dark. He knew it was irrational to hate this time of night, but there was no other feeling he knew anymore. Sirius turned on his stomach and pressed his face in his pillow. There was no patronus, no chocolate to counter the affects of the dementors. Sirius felt like a spoiled child who cried to end whatever unpleasant feelings he had. His mind screamed for him to bang at the walls and door, to try to crawl into a small space and escape the sadness. His mind worked quicker and quicker. I can't stay here! I hate it here!!! I want to go home and be with all of my dreadful relatives. I want Kreatcher and mother and Bella and Regulus. I want anything but this! I want Remus to Crucio me and tell me he hates me. . . . I want to die.

And at once, the dementors had passed and all of that stress fled Sirius. He was left a hollow, empty soul. No emotion filled Sirius Black then. Everything was still and Tussie snorted, not having woke this night. He was sure to start having nightmares within minutes, which Sirius would kindly wake him up from. It was impossible not to have nightmares once you were in Azkaban.

Sirius turned on his side to watch Tussie's chest rise and fall in his bed. His fingers twitched periodically. His hair was plastered to one side of his face with cold sweat. Sirius' heart physically ached whenever Tussie would remind him of Remus, which was almost always when he wasn't talking.

Tussie kicked and muttered something, yanking his head back and forth.

"No, stop! Please," Tussie jerked. Sirius swung his feet around and gingerly stepped towards Tussie. His heart pounded in anticipation. Naked toes inched closer to the closest thing to Remus that Sirius had. He knelt down, but instead of shaking Tussie like Sirius usually did when he was having a nightmare, he put his face closer to Tussie's. His breath tickled Sirius' face and neck, and it made him smile, filling him with a comfortable warmth. He looked at Tussie's innocent face and in an unconscious sweep of psychosis, Sirius' lips lightly pressed against Tussie's in the dark cell of Azkaban.

So soft, Sirius smiled, breathing. The man below him breathed in then too, waking up.

Sirius opened his eyes and found Remus under him in an amber lit room, the sun just coming up and shining through a window. Remus licked his lips and stretching, realizing someone heavy was on top of him. He opened his eyes and smiled at the pieces of black hair tickling his cheeks. Sirius' arm was pressed under Remus' body, holding him close, but one hand still free.

"Good morning," Sirius kissed him gently again.

Lips parted in the darkness, and shocked eyes looked up at Sirius from a prison bed. Tussie was fully awake now and quickly sat up.

"What are you doing?" He asked indignantly. Sirius stepped back, wiping his lips.

"N-nothing. I just . . . I was-," Sirius started but hadn't planned for what he'd say if Tussie woke up.

"I'm sorry."

-.-.-.-.-.-

A/N: Tell me what you think. I know this is one big mess of setting up and plot, but hey, it's more fiction than fan.

I suggest not reading the rest of this story if you don't want the seventh book ruined for you.

Yeah. I knew that would get your attention. Obviously, I haven't read the seventh book yet, but I know a little something about Regulus that HASN'T been circulating over the internet, which is weird considering it's really obvious. I already dropped a big, fat hint in this chapter, and if you can find it and understand it, let me know. It has to do with the third book, which might sound strange. Anyways, I'll explain it all soon and I'll have this done before the seventh book comes out so that you can brag to your friends.