A Hand-Up

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Sirius had fallen asleep, laying on his back on the cot with the mattress rolled up into a log, his body wrapped around the mattress. He hugged it close to his body, his face pressed into the cleft made by the end of the roll. It had taken hours to fall asleep, and admittedly there had been quite a lot of tears involved and his hair was whipped around his face in a whirl of black, his stocking feet hanging over the too-short-even-for-Sirius slab.

He was half in and half out now, eyes closed, but hearing the voices of people talking outside of his cell by the cluster of desks where the aurors had been sitting, keeping watch, until Underhill had come down to 'babysit'. Mr. Underhill had spent the better part of the night playing cards with Sirius - teaching him loads of card games, some of which he really didn't know how to play before Underhill taught him, others he faked ignorance and just let the bleeder waste his time.

There were two voices.

"Reckon a dungbomb could be set off by his head and he'd go on sleepin' through it... I heard he sang the entire night relentlessly, he's probably done lost his voice. You're not likely to get much out of him."

"I'm willing to give it a go."

There were some footsteps and a clang against the cell bars. "Oi, Sirius! Wake up, you tosser!"

Sirius clung tighter to his makeshift Remus Lupin and buried his face.

"Hey. Sirius. Wake-up, will ya?" Frank Longbottom's voice carried over. He took his wand and banged it against the rungs of the cell. "Oi! C'mon, talk to me."

"I have nothing to say to a traitor."

"How about words to say to a traitor what's got your breakfast?"

"Leave the breakfast and wank off, traitor."

"C'mon Sirius. It's a grand breaky. Toast and eggs and the lot... My mum made it. Was supposed to be mine, but -- I know the porridge crap they give the prisoners is more PVA than it is food, so I wanted you to have a real meal."

Sirius stayed hugging the mattress roll.

"Hey, I got something more than just the eggs for you, too. I've got a visitor."

Sirius sat up. "James?" he asked, looking over.

"It does start with a J, at least?" Jasper Odair popped his head 'round the side of the cell and waved. 

Sirius tried to hide his disappointment.

It felt like ages since he'd seen James Potter.

"Hey Jasper."

Frank sighed and handed Jasper the plate of food he held and he left.  Jasper paused and said, "I'd hand this through, but the plate's wider than the bars, mate, you'll have to come over here to eat it."

Sirius slid onto the floor and, as he did, the mattress unrolled itself and fell limply back onto the cot. He scooted himself along the stone floor to the cell bars. Jasper sat down on the stone, handed Sirius a fork, and proceeded to hold the plate for him as Sirius ate feverishly. He hadn't had anything since taking an early morning lunch the day before. The food had gotten cold in the process of getting it from the Longbottoms to the cell door, but it didn't matter. Cold eggs were better than no eggs. 

Jasper was patient, just sitting while Sirius scarfed enough of the food down to quiet at least the immediate hunger. When he was slowing down and just picking at the plate, Jasper said, "Better?"

Sirius nodded, slipping one of the extra pieces of toast in his pocket for later.

Jasper smiled and put the mostly empty plate down to one side, then slid so he was leaning against the wall, his legs extended out in front of him alongside the bars. "I stayed in this one, too, you know, for my forty-eight hour hold." He looked around the walls.

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