As awfully, horribly, terribly certain as he'd been, Sirius can see now that there had been some glimmer of hope beneath the fear, that some part of him had been clinging to the very chance, however small, that they could still be alive.
Breath has left his lungs as Sirius takes a shaky step back, wand held loosely in his hand as his arms drop.
"It's my fault," he says, nearly a whisper. He tries to swallow, but it catches, and the ache beneath his ribcage is severe enough he wonders if he might be dying himself. "It was my idea, my... Harry. Harry, I'm sorry. I'm so so sorry."
Sirius doesn't plead for forgiveness. There's no forgiving this. His fingers twitch and he drops his wand to the ground lest he be tempted to break it in two and drops to his knees, cold snow seeping in through his jeans.
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Date: 2016-02-09 05:33 am (UTC)Breath has left his lungs as Sirius takes a shaky step back, wand held loosely in his hand as his arms drop.
"It's my fault," he says, nearly a whisper. He tries to swallow, but it catches, and the ache beneath his ribcage is severe enough he wonders if he might be dying himself. "It was my idea, my... Harry. Harry, I'm sorry. I'm so so sorry."
Sirius doesn't plead for forgiveness. There's no forgiving this. His fingers twitch and he drops his wand to the ground lest he be tempted to break it in two and drops to his knees, cold snow seeping in through his jeans.