Sirius was more than a little nauseous. First the time jump had left his body weakened, then a few trips through the floo network, and now apparation. It was entirely too many forms of travel in the space of three hours. Not to mention the toll the Petrificus Totalus takes on the mind of its subject. The inability to move or talk while retaining full mental capacity was horrendous, Sirius felt like he was moments away from insanity.

His eyes were immovable, but luckily open. He could see the wall directly in front of him as they apparated into a dark stone hall. Sirius felt dread leak in every available sense. He knew this place.

Azkaban was truly the most miserable place on earth, Alastor Moody thought. Never before had it brought pleasure to him to enter the cold walls, but this was one of those times justice and revenge lined up perfectly. The Potters were dead. They had been betrayed by the one closest to him. Now Moody got to personally send him to the inner circles of hell. Not that Sirius would ever get to hell, no, the dementors would make sure that when he finally reached death, there was no more of his soul for even God himself to judge.

This couldn't be happening, Sirius thought. He didn't go after Peter! The rat couldn't have framed him for the muggle murders, if they even still occurred or not. If he could just get Moody to listen, but the damn body-bind was holding firm and Sirius couldn't get a word out.

dementors circled in the dark sky above them. Hovering just close enough to stake their claim over Sirius, while not endangering the Auror escorting him.

"They can't kiss you yet, Black, but you can bet your traitorous ass I will be here when they do."

Alastor came to the empty cell, one wall still smeared with the feces of the last prisoner who lost his mind in it. He could have just levitated Black in and walked away, but he couldn't bring himself to leave without answers.

He dropped the levitation spell and pushed the coward into the cell, letting his petrified body hit the ground solidly before lifting that as well. Alastor savored the look on Black's face as he slammed the cell door.

"You coward. What was it he offered you Black? Power? Surely you didn't crawl to the Dark Lord for something as worthless as you life."

Last time Sirius had still been raving lunacy from the grief. This time, he could defend himself before it was too late. "I didn't betray James. He was my brother, Moody, I would never betray him. I wasn't the—"

"How dare you! Even now you are too low to even admit to your crimes!"

"I didn't commit any crimes!"

"Liar!" Alastor growled, moving his wand in front of Sirius.

"Moody, please! I—"

—Silencio—

The Auror removed Black's ability to speak, knowing the lies of his silver tongue all to well. The lowlife reached out through the bars and Alastor scoffed at his audacity. He was a coward, willing to fall to his knees like a beggar. That was what he was after all, a slave to the Dark Lord.

"You are nothing more than a rat, Black. And you will die here like one."

Sirius grabbed the bars of the cell and shook them in frustrated rage. The irony of that statement was not lost on him. It only served to make him that much more desperate. If he could just explain! Sirius needed to explain. He couldn't be stuck here, not again. Lucy would go to the Dursleys and he would be stuck in Azkaban. He couldn't fail. He needed them to listen!

—Incendio—

The bars ignited, sending Sirius flying back, his hands burning hotter than an iron. Silently whimpering, Sirius stared in shock and pain at his raw blistering palms. His hands shook, his fingers contorted in agony.

Alastor looked on grimly. Controlled anger made a good Auror, he knew that, but in that moment he could not prevent himself from sending one more curse at the traitor. One that would say everything that Black continued to deny. He turned and walked away.

Sirius leaned his head into the corner of the cell, feeling the effects of Moody's last spell carving into his chest. Incarceration was worse when you were lucid enough to provoke the escort. The remaining flesh of his hands burned with a fury and if it wasn't for the knowledge of just how filthy these cells were, Sirius would have been tempted to flatten them onto the ice cold stone.

He heard the screams of a prisoner near his cell and for a moment thought of joining him, but thought better of it. Best not to attract the dementors. Sirius knew what kind of memories went first, and he couldn't bear the thought of losing his memories of Harry. Then he realized that even if he wanted to, Moody's spell was still in effect. What was the lifespan of a silencing charm?

Merlin, he couldn't be here again. Sirius wouldn't make it through another stay in Azkaban. He would lose his mind.

It was very considerate of Moody to remember to at least take off the body bind. Sirius was already in Azkaban, it couldn't possibly be enough. No, now he was silenced, bleeding and burned so badly he couldn't even risk turning into Padfoot. If he transformed, his paws would have no choice than to touch the grime and awaiting infection that was the floor of his cell. It was the same cell, he noticed. Same walls. Same bars.

A manic laugh escaped him, for an entirely different reason than the first time he was in this position. Or maybe it was the same reason. Sirius was losing his mind. Out of sheer situational habit, Sirius moved a hand through his hair, causing pain to radiate throughout it. He screamed, but, of course, nothing resounded in the cell except the ringing in his own head.

His heart was pounding so violently he felt as if he was swaying. The disgusting ground beneath him tilted and he stumbled to compensate, only to fall to his knees onto the stone. His hands ended up breaking his fall, skinning the already agonized flesh. He pulled his weight off his hands and rested his shocked body on his elbows. It was too much.

He couldn't catch his breath. His bleeding chest was collapsing in on itself, the weight of a thousand pounds resting on the center of it even as he bent over it to relieve the pressure. The chill of the stone permeated through him, resulting in feverous shakes, all the while his face burning as hot as his hands.

Sirius struggled to stay still, as terror, the likes of which he had never felt, overwhelmed him. He had never experienced this before, he was a Gryffindor. His courage rose when fear was about. It was this place, it was being back here. He needed to calm down. No, he needed to breathe. Take a deep breath, he told himself.

His first attempt shook, but he forced himself to slow down his breathing, even though he wasn't getting any more air. His lungs burned with the effort. He glance up and kept his eyes on the spring underneath the threadbare mattress. Take a deep breath, he told himself again, and this time it came easier. Sirius noticed the rust on the spring, it was a deep orange.

The muscles in his legs jerked and twitched, almost throwing him off balance, but he kept his eyes on that spring. This time was different, Sirius promised his fear riddled brain. Moony knows. He'll fight this. This time was different.

Slowly, the chills stopped, followed by the twitching. Thinking about Moony helped, he realized. Moony knew the truth, he would get him out. He would protect Lucy until Sirius got out. This time was different. Take a deep breath. The spring under the bed was flaking orange dust. Sirius kept repeating them to himself until he could breathe properly without the reminder.

Sirius uncurled himself and to sit against the wall, his head lulling back.

A panic attack, Sirius diagnosed. He had seen quite a few of them during the war, but hadn't experienced one himself. He could stare Voldemort in the face and tell him to screw off, but he couldn't last ten minutes in his old cell. How was that even possible? He sat there, laughing silently at himself with his hands held close to his chest. Pathetic and weak, he thought, shaking his head at the mess he was in.

The night passed slowly. The moon was just visible through the constant storm that surrounded the prison. The left side of the moon was bright and Sirius could identify the familiar shape as that of the waxing gibbous. Which gave them another 3 nights before the full moon. Moony would need to get him out before that or he stood no chance at preventing Lucy from going to the Dursleys. Moony would be taking his Wolfsbane potion in two days which would weaken him, but Sirius was convinced that his friends would get him out by then.

The sun brought a new kind of dread to the innocent convict—Was he even a convict if there was never a trial to convict him?

The morning meal. It was delivered by dementors. Sirius felt his mouth grow dry at the thought. He would rather starve until he was released than be forced to face dementors three times a day. New meat, he thought bitterly, that was what all dementors saw in a new prisoner. For dementors, old prisoners were often less desired because their best memories had already been taken. The stronger the memories, the more attractive you were to the Soul-suckers.

Sirius remembered well the feeling of having memory after memory taken away from him. It was the slowest form of torture, most painful form of 'punishment.' It was bearable if you had something to focus on, much like the panic attack from the night before. But Sirius wasn't sure how bearable it was for someone whose mind had already been through so much.

The cooling of the already freezing cell alerted Sirius to the imminent arrival of a dementor. With a vacant expression, he began to slowly uncurl his stiff, trembling arms. Sirius used his uncut forearm to push the thin blanket over the edge of the cot, forming a small wall. Then he gingerly rolled to his feet and crawled underneath bed, trying to withhold the wince as the movement pulled on the engorged blisters on his hands. Sirius doubted the cloth hut would give him much cover, but perhaps he felt slightly better by doing something to prepare for the threat, instead of accepting his helplessness.

Ice covered the floor in the way that was too familiar for Sirius to dwell on. He clenched his eyes shut, curled his head into the wall with his back to the door and waited.

The movement of a dementor was said to be silent, the most stealthy predator, but those in Azkaban soon learned to identify exactly what they sounded like. It was a silent scream that curdled the blood of its prey and left its victims petrified in terror.

Sirius heard the cell door click open, followed by the long screech of rusty hinges. His heart quicken but he forced himself to breathe normally. It wouldn't do to fall into another panic attack. The temperature dropped another few degrees and Sirius felt the warmth of his breath against his cheek like a candle. He heard the metal clang of his tray being dropped to the floor.

Not allowing himself hope, he kept his body tight, and for good reason. The next moment, the dementor was kneeling down beside his cover. In his years in prison in the first timeline he heard James blaming him for his and Lily's death. Now, under the attentions of the dementor, Sirius heard screams. Harry under the Crucitas. Remus as he watched Tonks die and followed her into death. Hermione being tortured by Bellatix. Harry again. Always Harry. And underneath it all, the small cry of a new voice, a baby.

When the dementor finally tired, it left the cell. The food was forgotten and Sirius wept in his silence, now as emotionally exhausted as he was physically in torment. Moony will come, his tired mind whimpered. It's different this time. They wouldn't abandon him to the darkness.

By midday, an oozing puss had set into the wounds on his hands. The burns had long since stopped burning, but the pain was increasing now. His hands felt hot, really hot, even as the cell cooled in warning of his noon meal. They were a deep red, almost purple. By night fall, he knew they were infected despite his best efforts to keep them off the ground. There was probably enough in the air anyway. A fever had set in, causing his vision to blur and his eyes to ache.

Surely they would be there soon. Moony would have spent today convincing the Order to fight for his release. Maybe they even located Wormtail. It might take 24 hours to prepare an extraction. Sirius would be out of here soon, or so was his hope, growing more and more desperate by the moment.

Only Moony didn't come that night. Nor the next. With the full moon high in the sky, Sirius gave in to his fever, not sure he could wait any longer.