Hey guys! New story... will be updating regularly! Enjoy.
Each hit seemed harder than the last, each curse seemed stronger and more accurate than the previous, each insult, taunt, ridicule seemed more malicious and spiteful than the one thrown at him only seconds before the next. All he could feel was pain, pure, untainted, clear and evident pain. Pain that could not be hidden behind sarcastic comments. Pain that could not be concealed beyond witty comebacks. Pain that lingered both emotionally and physically.
All he could feel was hurt. Hurt through the strikes and swings taken at his already battered figure, hurt through dark spells shooting through the air and meeting their precise target, hurt through the loneliness they vowed to make him feel every single moment within their presence.
But no, he wouldn't give up.
He wouldn't give in. He wouldn't crumble to their evil needs and wicked deeds. He wouldn't bow to their feet like some caged creature who spoke only when spoken to. He wouldn't sink to their level, no- he would rather face a thousand excruciating deaths rather than become the twisted, unreal person they had attempted so hard to shift him into.
Because there was nothing Sirius Black wanted more than to run, to run and never look back.
M.W.P.P
If James Potter was anything, he was proud. Proud and proud to be so. Call him arrogant if you will, call him witty, big-headed, overconfident, smug, anything from the dictionary of big-headedness. He is, was and always will be proud.
To him, there was no time that mattered more than the present, no time that could be important enough to take up his time from the time of the contemporary. He never lingered on mistakes, never held onto grudges, and most importantly- never worried about the future.
Something both his parents were both glad and concerned about.
Being an only child, one could call James spoilt. Loved, encouraged, cared for, and downright spoilt. Not in a way where his parents feared to yell at him, no but a rather caring, tended manner in which he both respected his mother and father and earned their respect back.
A trait rarely found these days. A trait of compassion and honour. It was true James may be 'pig-headed' and had a quite large ego at times, but that never stopped him from showing courage, devotion, and affection.
Not to mention worry.
He had sent letters to his best friends the day after the holidays had started, asking them if they wished to come over and stay as long as they wished.
That was weeks ago.
Remus Lupin had replying, reminding James that the full moon was close and that he would be able to come- just not yet, but rather in the final week or so before school would begin again. Peter had also replied, telling James that he would be spending the time in France visiting his auntie with his parents, and would be able to attend about the same time Remus would. This pleased the young Potter Heir, but what concerned him was that he hadn't received a single letter from Sirius.
Not a single one.
Marauders
Peter was quite pleased to hear from Remus and James. They often owled each and Sirius, though according to the other two the young Black had not written back. This troubled Peter. Over past holidays, the four of them kept in tight contact, often visiting on another at either the Lupin, Potter, or Pettigrew residence. But why was Sirius ignoring them all of the sudden? It was strange to say the least, though Peter knew Sirius didn't like going home.
In fact, you could almost say he dreaded it.
They were on the plane back to London from France, only eight days until school would begin again. He was glad it was so soon, for he worried if something had happened to the fourth Marauder- but crossing his fingers, he tried to make himself believe that Sirius Black was just fine.
M.W.P.P
That last transformation was painful, more so than the others before it- if that was actually possible. It was- thankfully- his final transformation before returning to Hogwarts, where everything would be just so much more bearable and easier with his fellow Marauders.
He was on the way to James' house for the final week of the annual break. His parents had been reluctant, though not because they didn't trust the Potters. In fact, the Potter's treated Remus like a second son, and were absolutely wonderful to him and his parents. No it was rather, even though he was 16 his parents were still worried and fussed over him.
But even though they were reluctant, they allowed him. He was very thankful for them, and he quite so mentioned it often. He loved his parents, to him- they were the best parents anyone could actually ever ask for. They would be meeting him on the platform before he left to Hogwarts to bid him their goodbyes, of which he was again quite pleased of.
He smiled as they pulled into the ever-so-familiar drive way of his best friend large house- rather mansion- and sighed contently. They would be having lunch with the Potter's and Pettigrew's before the stay over would begin...
Remus only wished that Padfoot would be joining them, though he knew the chances of that were quite slim.
Marauders
Sirius sighed.
His mother had flipped when she had found out about the letters he was receiving from- as she put it- a 'Half-Blood', 'No good dense Muggle-bred Pure Blood' and her favourite, 'that retched Blood-Traitor'.
He was upset and certainly disappointed that she had discovered them. Even though this was in the very first week of the holidays, both she and his father had watched him liked hawks- just waiting for him to step an inch out of line...
Which of course he did.
And quite often too.
Not that he cared much. It was all the same to him nowadays. Go throughout the day with a meal or less, get locked up in his room or the basement, and be severely punished. Apparently even a sarcastic comment or an eye-roll warranted for a beating...
And a painful one at that.
He couldn't wait to get back to Hogwarts. There were no words to describe how glad he'd been when he'd realised that there was only about a week left. A week of horrible, unjust, cruel circumstances. A week of endless taunts and reminders of how pathetic he was, what a disappointment to 'The Most Ancient and Noble House of Black', and what a failure he had become.
You see, it wasn't exactly loving.
He was counting the days since the beginning. Counting and dreading. Without the Marauders, he honestly wouldn't know what to do. It was because of them that he was who he was today. When he first met James, his 'so-called enemy', they had immediately clicked. They had begun planning pranks and tricks on the Hogwarts Express almost at once, going through tactics and cheats as not to get caught. Then Remus came along, shy, quiet and pale. Extremely pale. Peter followed soon after, and after a single train ride, the four boys had become almost inseparable. When Sirius had been sorted into Gryffindor, when he had received that Howler that had silenced the entire hall, when his name had begun to change from 'Black' to 'Sirius' they were there with him, every step of the way, for the past five years.
He wasn't able to reply back to the many frantic letters he was receiving from his friends, demanding explanations and asking if he was alright. His parents had taken it upon themselves to burn every single letter addressed to him, and his mother had even almost sliced off part of James' owl one day that Sirius had been particularly loud about his opinion on 'purifying the world'.
He sat on his bed, staring at nothing in particular. His windows had been charming to lock and stay locked, and the only way they would open would be if the person who had enchanted them would break off the spell. His parents had also taken his wand; they couldn't risk anything- like what happened at the end of Sirius's first year. He had taken posters and banters of Gryffindor and pictures of muggle girls in clad bikinis and charmed them to stick- permanently.
He just laid there in pain. It was after a rather nasty occurrence when he had angered his parents for mouthing off at some guy they considered a god- some stupid 'Lord Voldemort' who claims to work on 'purifying' the world. His mother and father must have been serious, because once he had begun about what a loser this guy was, they had immediately cursed him. Square in the chest, where many colourful bruises lay, hidden beneath his slightly oversized shirt.
It wouldn't be long now, not long at all.
Dun dun dun. Sorry, slow start. Updating every day or two?
R&R