Anniversary

 

I posted this on the Sirius Black Forum under the username "Hey Jupiter," betting I'd be recognized anyway. Strangely enough, I wasn't.

Well, enough of this pseudonymous hiding.

Enjoy reading.

Even without looking at the calendar, I know what day it is. May thirteenth. One of the worst anniversary dates I can recall.

I've always had a good memory. Unfortunately. For images, words, events, and dates. Especially dates. I sense their arrival almost as much as Remus senses full moons—especially after that training session in Azkaban. Paradoxically, dates—revisiting the past—were one of the few ways to maintain even a modicum of presence of mind.

Usually, they're bad memories. Or even if they're not bad, they're very sad. Or almost nonexistent. And sometimes events overlap, driving me insane. Well, maybe not that much, but there are times of the year when a lot happens in my memories, and my first ever "A" in Potions and my daring defense of my Chaser against a Bludger are interwoven with my third interrogation in the Ministry basements, an absolutely horrific family quarrel, and a complete heartbreak. And I remember it all. In detail.

It's commonly believed that in Azkaban, you forget everything, even your own name. That Dementors suck out every memory, leaving an empty shell... I don't know. There were times when I couldn't remember many things, and there were times when everything became completely indifferent to me, but as a rule, I could recall a lot of... bad things. The good ones caused me problems, because I didn't feel them. They became alien, like the contents of a book I read carelessly a few years ago, almost unreal. In the cold and damp cell, it's impossible to recall the evening in the Gryffindor common room and the fire crackling in the fireplace—but you can remember the heated argument that took place there. And even those arguments somehow saved me.

May 13th returned year after year. It's not every day you betray your best friend by sending your worst enemy after them—even if the gentlemen at the Ministry had other ideas.

The cottage and that corridor, especially the Whomping Willow, remained in my mind primarily of that evening for a long time. Night, actually. And of that fear, that panic—for Remus, for James, for Snivello even. That something would happen because of my unearthly stupidity and cowardice. And in between—and dealing with a nervous Peter—thinking about my reasons. I don't know if that wasn't the worst.

It was as if I couldn't think before opening my mouth to Snape!

It would probably be easy to say I'd had enough, that the situation had become too much. It could have been too much. The OWLs, expressed a little earlier, during the Easter holidays, the threat of transferring me to another school (at the time, as nightmarish as it was blessed), Animagus, that morning in the Shack a few weeks ago... A lot. But not that much. Nothing can justify that. Although it's understandable. I suppose. I understand—Remus too—and the rest don't need to know. I didn't even tell James.

The official story is that I went crazy and thought it was a great joke. Scaring Snivellus, the school enemy. Without thinking about the consequences. Well, actually, I wasn't. Without thinking about Remus and his secret. Not true. Even as a fifteen-year-old pup, I wasn't that stupid.

It has such a nice name. Two birds with one stone, two sparrows with one shot, whichever you prefer. Sparrows seem more fitting. The bigger and more important sparrow was Moony. It's strange that no one thought of that. Apparently, I was lucky. I often was.

Now I think about it easily; back then, I acted instinctively. Destroy! Destroy the Shack, that memory, the feelings connected with it... that morning, and above all—Remus! That was all, if anything, that flashed through my mind when I spoke to Snot. Brilliant, indeed.

How this actually connected with that morning after the full moon, when I woke up—already a human—in the arms of another human—I didn't think about it until a week later, during the next full moon. That fell on May thirteenth. Earlier, recalling that casual comment, I knew I'd done something wrong, and if I'd known then, I would have Obliviated Snape—and myself—but I couldn't do it, nor could I tell anyone—I just hoped it would resolve itself. He resolved it for me, at the last minute, anyway, James. And I never told him anything. Beyond the official version.

You're a coward, Sirius! An absolute coward—to be frightened of warmth and tenderness and want to destroy them with betrayal? At least Pettigrew had the decency to betray me in exchange for special privileges.

I told Remus a year later. Also on the thirteenth. The full, thoughtful, digested, Quidditch-weary version. By the next full moon, we had gotten rid of the company by getting them detention. Another dirty trick—well, that's the beauty of this kind of relationship. Then, after we graduated from Hogwarts, things were simpler, which isn't to say easy. The cottage in the woods I'd inherited from my uncle was very useful—theoretically, every friend had a standing invitation there, but only Remus visited me so often. He claimed it was much better for him than living in the city—loud, dirty, smelly—and he'd playfully act out scenes like "I won't bother you!", suggesting financial constraints. Those were wonderful times. Although they didn't last long.

How could we suspect each other of espionage?... Paranoia. Especially since the first argument about it took place... on May twelfth.

Dates, times, anniversaries... remembering them is a curse. I don't believe in such coincidences—so I guess I'm just provoking them somehow.

I wonder if anything significant will happen this year, or if I'll just be stuck in my favorite corner of the stairs overlooking the front door... waiting for a visitor, since I can't get out myself. It's still early, the whole day is ahead of me. I could sit here and sit...

A noise at the door. I instinctively reach for my wand; I don't believe in Secret Keepers. The scrape of a key—only Tonks or him have a key?

Unbelievable.

"Siri, Siri..." I hear sadness in my friend's voice, but also laughter. "Have you forgotten what day it is? Why are you sitting here moping instead of getting everything ready for our anniversary?

I'm dreaming. "

And I don't intend to wake up.