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Sirius hadn’t really cared much about his birthdays before Hogwarts, the older he got — the more defiant he got — the more he inevitably did something to anger his parents, to seem ungrateful. And then he started school, he had friends who understood him, a home and a family where he was loved. And he never had to be in that damn house on his birthday again.
First year, they had gone all out with Gryffindor themed items: scarves, banners, flags, anything that he could use to decorate his bedroom at home — anything that would piss off his parents. After bombarding Lily with questions about motorbikes, she’d even thrown in a poster for him. Andromeda had had a similar idea, she’d given him a book on famous Gryffindors. It was really very nice of them all. He and James had had detention that evening — they’d put itching powder in Jeremy McKinnon’s pyjamas — and it was still the best birthday he’d ever had.
Second year to fifth year, his friends primarily gave him the same thing: Muggle clothes, and he was so grateful for the yearly supply. The day after that first haul of clothes, he’d taken off his new jumper and lent it to Marlene when she was cold. Not only did he never get that jumper back, it had opened up the gate; Marlene McKinnon became a notorious jumper thief… though he was sure it was only his jumpers… and only after he’d been wearing them for a few hours. He didn’t mind, of course, and he minded less as they got older. Especially when she wore one of his jumpers and nothing else…
Sixth and seventh year, while his friends still catered for his love of Muggle attire, he’d turned seventeen at the start of sixth. Euphemia and Fleamont had sent him a watch. It was a tradition that he hadn’t been expecting, his own parents had disowned him. He had contemplated buying himself a watch, but it just wouldn’t have been the same. He’d almost cried at the breakfast table when he opened the parcel their owl had delivered. It had just been so thoughtful of them. For the first time, he had parents who loved him.
Then they’d all been fighting in the war.
He’d spent the majority of his nineteenth birthday sheltering with Lily on an Order mission. They hadn’t got out quick enough before Death Eaters arrived. They were so outnumbered that they wouldn’t have a hope of fighting their way out. It was the early hours of the following morning before they’d been able to make their escape. At some point while he was away, Marlene had let herself into his flat. She’d been out of her mind with worry, but the sex when he’d returned had been incredible.
Miraculously, none of his friends had been out on missions for his twentieth birthday. He’d even been able to have a party. They’d all gotten a little drunk, been able to forget that they were at war, that they could be killed at any moment. Sirius liked to tease Lily and James that this was the night they’d conceived Harry. They’d laughed it off at first, but neither of them had really found it as amusing as he did… It made him think that he was actually right.
His twenty-first had been hell. Marlene had been on an Order mission without him. He hated when they weren’t paired together, when he couldn’t watch her back. He never admitted this to her of course, she was a better fighter than he was, and she’d be so offended. But all he wanted was to keep her safe, take the hits for her. He had spent the day pacing the flat. Remus had come over, to try and distract him, but he’d been so irritated by his small talk, by his insistence that she would be fine, that he’d thrown him out. It had gone midnight when Marlene had returned, and she had been a mess. He never had got the story out of her — what she had endured — he knew she was trying to protect him, she never did want him to worry about her. But this was worse, his imagination worked overtime, each possibility more horrific than the last.
Sirius didn’t realise at first that it was his twenty-second birthday. Not that he had anything to celebrate anymore. Or anyone left to celebrate with.
He had lost everything.
James and Lily. Harry had been taken from him. The world thought he’d sold his best friends out to Voldemort. Thought he’d murdered thirteen people. Thought he’d also killed that fucking rat — though he wished he had. Remus would believe them all. He had betrayed Remus before, he would have no trouble believing that he was the traitor.
And he had lost Marlene. And the baby that she had been carrying. His daughter.
He had lost everything.
The cell was freezing cold and he had no way of telling if it was the weather or the Dementors. Probably both. It consumed him, filling his chest, his soul, seeping into his bones. Plunging him into the icy depths of every horrific moment in his miserable life.
He had been in here a couple of days, and he had stopped laughing now. Not that there had been any humour in that maniacal laughter. The world would think he was mad… maybe he was. He’d never felt particularly sane, and certainly not in the last few months.
“I’m innocent.” He whispered… that was a lie. It had been his idea to use Wormtail. He had told Lily and James to use him. He might not have been the one to sell them out, but his hands were still stained with their blood. He had killed them.
“It wasn’t me.” He could see his breath in the cold. “I’m innocent. I’m innocent. I’m innocent!”
If he shouted it enough, maybe he could make himself believe it.
He couldn’t lose his mind. Wormtail was still out there and he was the only one who knew it. One day he would come for Harry. Sirius couldn’t let that happen.
It was so cold in the cell. And he had lost everything.