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When I walk around all of the streets
Where I grew up and found my feet
They can't look me in the eye
It's like they're scared of me
I try to think of things to say
Like a joke or a memory
But they don't recognize me now
In the light of day
The weekend had been busy, all of the Weasleys and Potters gathered to spend the afternoon and dine together on both days. Remus and Tonks actually spent the night at Grimmauld and only left on Sunday very late at night. At some point Hermione had told them that she’d work from home for a few weeks, so she could focus on her projects. A small voice in the back of Sirius’ head told him she was probably doing that so she could keep an eye on him, but with all of the conversation and laughter his mind was full and he chose not to pay attention to that feeling, instead he let himself feel a sense of normalcy. Maybe, just maybe, things could just be mundane and doing the things he wanted could be effortless.
It had been a couple of months since he had been thrown out of the Veil and after an infinity of tests, enchantments, potions and veritaserum filled interrogations the Ministry had reinstated him as a living, breathing, and above all, free member of the British Wizarding Society. But after a decade suspended in nothingness, enjoying that freedom had proved to be a greater challenge than he expected.
The world had moved on, Harry was married with Ginny and had a kid to look after, Remus had married his cousin and spent most of his days travelling the world studying different types of magic, Hermione was now his housemate, she had been living in Grimmauld Place since she started working for the Department of Mysteries because she wanted to take put its ancient and foul library to good use.
Sirius found it hard to find his niche, the hours wasted away as he tried to catch up to his responsibilities. He had the clearance papers for weeks by now, but he just didn’t seem to be able to just get on with it. He felt physically tired of burdening the people around him. The clothes he had been wearing were graciously given to him by Harry, his godson also gave him some gold to get him through until he could rectify his situation with Gringotts and regain access to his vaults and Hermione had been keeping the pantry full and made sure he had at least one full meal a day.
Neither of them complained of his idleness, but enough was enough. If he had made it through the weekend surrounded by people, and had even managed to feel some happiness, he would find a way to break his cycle and do what he had to do.
He went to bed with a sense of determination. Tomorrow he would finally go to the Diagon Alley. Even if he only made it to the bank, he would do it. His resolution was so strong it was the first thing on his mind before he had even fully gained conscience in the morning. He got ready and was out of his bedroom before he could let his procrastination catch up to him.
He decided to floo, as he didn’t feel quite sure he could apparate without splinching just yet. He stepped into the fireplace and soon emerged at the Leaky Cauldron.
Immediately the place fell silent for a moment as all eyes turned to him and then the whispering began and the raspy voices engulfed him. He shifted from the fireplace corner uncomfortably, and even though he scurried out of the lodge, bothered by the unwanted attention, he couldn’t help but to catch glimpses of the whispers.
“... a mad man…”
“... i don’t care what the ministry says…”
“...even if he is innocent, no one spends 12 years in Azkaban and is sane after that…”
His stomach twisted and he felt his palms getting sweaty. He’d been sheltered from the public opinion of him since coming back from the Veil, but he remembered what the Daily Prophet had to say about him after his break from Azkaban, so he could very well imagine what lies were being spread about him now.
He reached the cobblestones with a racing heart, but he was determined to make it to Gringotts. He had to. The scene at the lodge repeated through the alley, everywhere wizards and witches glanced in horror. He kept his eyes on the ground trying to ignore the gossiping and trying to fool himself that the wizards on the alley were not scampering away from him, there must be another reason.
An old witch gasped loudly and as a reflex he turned to look at her, just to see all the colour fading from her face as she forcefully pulled her kid behind her with pure dread on her eyes. He felt all the air escape from his lungs, there was no denial strong enough to fool him now. He would never feel normal, he’d always be the insane murderous death eater by the ruling of the wizarding world.
He never stopped moving, he could already see the marble building and he was resolute. His heart pounded on his chest almost as strongly as his feet hit the pavement as he practically ran towards the bank.
When he finally made it, his ears rang so badly and his mind was so clouded by the spiralling thoughts that he found it hard to deal with the bureaucracy the globins imposed on him. All of the parchments he had to present seemed to blur as he tried to read them and the impatient teller just ripped them from his trembling hands. Sirius felt nothing but a shell of his former self.
The ride to his vault was not much of an improvement, the goblin muttered all the way about all of the treasures the Black family had stolen from his people and that he was nothing but a usurper. The globin's voice was added to the hateful cacophony playing in his mind.
When he left the bank behind, the sense of accomplishment he had so longed for was drowned in his feeling of dread. His limbs tingled and he felt sweat drip from his brow but still he walked towards the lodge so he could go back to a safe place. He was close to his destination when he was blinded by a flash and a young wizard stopped him and bombarded him with questions.
“Mr. Black, I’m Harold Finnigan and I’m with the Daily Prophet and the public thinks you’ve been in hiding for all these years trying to come up with an alibi for your crimes, what do you have to say about that? Mr. Black, is it true that your testimony at the Ministry lasted for three days? Mr. Black, do you think you would have been pardoned if it wasn't for your influential connections? Mr. Black, the public needs to know, are you safe to be...” as the reporter spilled his words the disorientating flash kept going off, making it even harder for Sirius to form a coherent thought on his already foggy brain, ultimately he decided to just push through the photographer and interviewer barking that he just wanted to be left the fuck alone.
__
Hermione was working on her study when she heard the front door be smashed on its frame and something hit the ground hard. She jumped to her feet and ran down the stairs.
“Sirius, is it you?” she had her wand raised and when she reached the landing she saw Sirius slumped on the floor with his head between his knees “Fuck, Sirius, are you ok? Are you hurt? Have you been attacked? Fuck, Sirius, answer me, goddamnit” her voice was strained and her chest closed up in fear.
She flew down the last flight of stairs and had already cast a diagnostic spell on him by the time she had reached him. The spell hovered on him in a reassuring gold glow. He was physically well, which relaxed the clasp around her heart and she could see him more clearly. His shoulders were shaking and she could hear him trying to grasp some air. She knew that feeling all too well and sat on the floor across from him and propped his face up grabbing the side of his face and neck with a firm grip.
“Sirius, look at me. Open your eyes. Look at me.” he opened his eyes but could barely make up her face through the tears, his whole body felt numb and the air he breathed seemed to make no difference. Her voice was assertive but she emoted calmness and assurance.
“You’re hyperventilating, you need to breathe slower. Here, feel my chest. Breathe with me.” She reached for his hand and pressed it flat against her chest, his hands were cold and trembling and she felt her heart drop. “We’re going to breathe in, hold it and then let go, ok?”
Her eyes pierced his and she held his hand closer against her warm skin. She breathed deliberately and he tried to follow suit. After some breaths, the stream of tears began to slow and she dried his cheeks as she still held his head up to meet her gaze.
“You are safe. You are at your house. I’m with you. I need you to ground yourself. Keep breathing, please.”
He felt his heart rate slow down and what was happening downed on him. On the first day she was home he had to pull something like that?! Really? A grown ass man, who faced dementors for years on end, on hysterics by going to the Diagon Alley?! He felt the urge to just run away, it was just too embarrassing. But her touch felt reassuring and he needed reassurance above all else at that moment. He could feel her heart beating against his palm and suddenly everything felt very real and an overwhelming wave of sadness came over him, overpowering all of the anxiety and anguish. Why did things had to have gone this way? Why would he never belong? And why did Hermione know instantly how to help him? Why did all of them have to be marked from war?
She put her arms around him and held him closely and he rested his head on her shoulder and allowed himself to sob. He realised that the last time he was hugged was at the Shrieking Shack by Moony in what seemed a whole other life, and sobbed even harder.
“It’s okay, Sirius. I’m here. You’re safe. We’re okay.” she whispered reassuring nonsenses in his ear. She was missing the point of his newfound pain, but just having her there trying to lull him and holding him eased the pain of his loneliness even if ever so slightly. He clutched the fabric of her sweater so hard it made his knuckles numb. He couldn’t muster enough clarity within himself to answer anything, so he pulled her in and buried his face buried in her hair and smelled the scent of dusty books and perfume it emanated.
I know I'm not the only one
Who regrets the things they've done
Sometimes I just feel it's only me
Who can't stand the reflection that they see
I wish I could live a little more
Look up to the sky, not just the floor
I feel like my life is flashing by
And all I can do is watch and cry
I miss the air, I miss my friends
I miss it when
Life was a party to be thrown
But that was a million years ago