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Summary
Sirius Black had never known peace in his life. It wasn’t the war that broke him, or the death of his made family. It had started long before in a ward at St. Mungo’s when he had been given the name of Black. It had been so crushing to stay alive and he barely managed when it took so many people to keep him righted and solid. Maybe that was why he made such terrible choices. It was selfish that for one of the last moments he was happy he didn’t have to stay any longer. He watched the two even as the silver wisps cradled his head and held his hands and hugged him with such warmth he had never realised how cold and worn down he had truly been.
Being Sirius Black was an exhausting existence.