Only Cowards Cry

Summary: I don't know where this came from. Its Sirius angst, I suppose.

Disclaimer: I don't own the Harry Potter characters. Get over it.

And the tears fall.

The silver sky beckons from the window, the rain falls, beckoning him to run.

Run.

Run from it all.

Eyes rimmed with red, only one thought comes to mind.

Only cowards cry. Only cowards cry. Only cowards cry.

He wishes to cry out, to unleash the dry sob killing him from within.

But he cannot. He cannot give them the satisfaction.

Only cowards cry. Only cowards cry. Only cowards cry.

The words of his father ring in his head.

Only cowards cry. Only cowards cry. Only cowards cry.

No! He does not want to listen. He does not want to listen to the words of his mother and father.

He hates them. He hates them. He hates them.

He hates the silky voice of his mother, veiling the venom encased in her words.

He hates his father, sharp like a dagger, stabbing him in the heart.

He hates his brother, snickering in the corner. A little minion, believer, a follower. The follower he never allowed himself to be.

Only cowards cry. Only cowards cry. Only cowards cry.

"No!" he yells it this time, "No!"

He will not listen. He will not believe. He will not give in.

But he already has.

Only cowards cry.

"NO!" he roars, rising from the bed, fists clenched.

No.

It is all lies.

All lies.

Betrayal.

He is not one of them. He does not belong.

Biting his lip hard, he throws his belongings in his trunk.

He is leaving. He is leaving home.

But it is a home. He is not his home. He does not belong.

He slaps it shut, runs out of his bedroom, runs out of his prison.

He leaves. He ignores the angry calls.

He grabs his broom from the shed, a raw anger coursing through him.

He does not belong.

But again the words sting.

Only cowards cry.

But away he flies, away from the phantom's whisper.

Away. Run. Leave.

And no longer do the words come. He is gone. Gone from what trapped him. Trapped him beneath himself.

And they are the cowards. They are all cowards.

And he wonders, do they cry for him?

But then he does not care.

They are all cowards.

And he is not one of them, he is not a coward.

He soars through the rain, water beating down on his face, biting his lip so hard it is close to bleeding. And he knows.

They are the cowards.