Title: Sing Us a Song, You're the Piano Man

Rating: K

Genre: General

Disclaimer: I own nothing, especially not "The Piano Man". I freaking hate that freaking song. It just happens to work for the fic title. Yeah...

Setting: Summer of OOTP.

Ships: Maybe.

A/N: Just so you all know, I should be writing a paper right now, but nooooo, I'm doing this instead. If I fail Environmental Science, it's all your fault. Actually, it's Sirius' fault. He will just have to be punished, won't he? Mwahaha. Anyway. This is just a oneshot inspired by one of my favorite Sirius clichés: piano!Sirius. It also includes another favorite, smoking!Sirius, as well as tattooed!Sirius. Gotta love it. Please enjoy, and don't forget to review!
PS – If there's anyone who is following "The War of Number Twelve, Grimmauld Place", I PROMISE I've not forgotten about it! I just haven't been motivated to continue lately. I'll get the final chapter up this week, I swear.

The early morning sunlight poured through the window of a dusty bedroom in Number Twelve, Grimmauld Place. Sirius Black, the room's occupant, rolled over in bed and groaned as the sunlight hit his face. He reached for the covers to pull them up over his head, but they fell off the bed before he could grab them, as if telling him it was high time to get up. Sirius rolled onto his back and stretched. The warm sunlight that washed over his body contrasted with his already down mood. Sirius opened his eyes and stared at the cracked, grey ceiling. 'Another day in hell,' he thought. 'Just bloody wonderful.'

Sirius sat up and got out of bed, yawning widely. Crookshanks was curled up asleep at the foot of his bed and he scratched the cat affectionately behind its ears as he made his way to the bathroom. Sirius leaned on the sink and looked at himself in the mirror; he was just as unhappy with what he saw as he had been yesterday. His jet black hair was getting longer, an indicator to those who knew him that he wasn't exactly having the best time. His body was still thin and weak from so many years of undernourishment, but he was slowly regaining some of the muscle he had developed when he was younger. The fact that he was actually eating three decent meals a day certainly helped. The faded tattoos on his bare arms and chest looked dead and bland, even the most brightly colored ones, as though they had lost their meaning when they lost the muscle on which they were drawn. For Sirius, most of them had.

The grey eyes in Sirius' reflection stared straight through him, unfocused, shadowed by twelve years of being fed on by the dementors of Azkaban. Where once his eyes had been considered one of his most attractive qualities, Sirius couldn't bare to look at them in his reflection now. When he did, he could see James and Lily's destroyed house, their dead bodies on that night so many Halloweens ago, his prison cell...things he didn't want to remember.

Sirius shook his head to bring himself back into the present and ran his hand across the growing shadow on his face. He briefly considered shaving, then figured, what was the point? James had always said stubble made him look manly anyway. Sirius smiled grimly and went to turn on the shower.

A few minutes later, Sirius emerged from the shower and draped a towel around his waist. He pulled clothes out of the bureau, not even looking to see if what he had chosen matched. 'Not that it matters, of course,' he though. Once he was dressed, Sirius opened the bedroom door and Crookshanks jumped onto the floor. "Come on, out," he said to the cat, lightly kicking him out into the hall and closing the door behind him. Crookshanks meowed and ran down the stairs.

"'Morning, Sirius!" came a cheery voice. Sirius hadn't noticed when he walked into the kitchen that there were people there, though there always were. He looked up, startled and saw Ginny Weasley smiling at him.

"Mornin', Gin," he mumbled. He grabbed a plate and piled some eggs and bacon onto it, then sat down at the long kitchen table across from his best friend, Remus, who looked up at him in silent greeting, then returned his eyes to a book he was reading. Remus, most of the Weasley family and Hermione had all moved in to the house about two weeks ago, not long after he himself had returned. Sirius liked having so many people around, even though his almost constantly moody attitude hid this from them. The company made being trapped in his hellhole of a house a bit more bearable, especially since he had grown quite fond of most of the residents. There was one person, however, that he wished was there with the rest of the gang: his godson, Harry. Poor Harry was still living with his Muggle aunt and uncle, much to both his and Sirius' dismay. He got to spend so much time with Harry's friends and so little with the one he cared about most. He had gotten to know the Weasleys and Hermione very well over the past couple of days, but still he knew next to nothing about his own godson. What was his favorite book? Did he like music? Has he ever had a girlfriend? Sirius couldn't even begin to imagine what the answers would be and wondered if, at this rate, he'd ever get to know anything about his godson, especially since Dumbledore seemed to keen on keeping Harry isolated and the threat of Voldemort was growing ever closer. It wasn't fair.

Sirius picked idly at his breakfast and opened that day's copy of the Daily Prophet. His eyes scanned the articles halfheartedly, but there was nothing of any interest. ''Ministry Denies Claims of Dark Lord's Return'...'Sirius Black Spotted In Tunisia'...same old rubbish,' Sirius thought. He folded up the paper and returned his empty plate to the sink. He sat back down at the table as some of the kids were clearing out, engaged in conversation with each other, and pulled out a folded pack of cigarettes. Remus looked up from his book again and watched as Sirius lit a cigarette with magic and leaned back in his chair, exhaling smoke.

"Molly'll kill you," Remus said with a grin. Sirius shrugged. As if on cue, Molly Weasley came through the door, saw Sirius with the cigarette in hand, and began yelling at him, as though he was one of her own children.

"Sirius Black, what have I told you about smoking in the kitchen? You should not be doing that filthy habit where other people eat! Put that cigarette out right now!" Sirius only exhaled a cloud of smoke in defiant response. Molly put her hands of her hips, her face red with anger. Remus pretended to ignore the whole situation, but the spectacle before him was, at the moment, more entertaining than the book. 'Molly should know by know that she can't make Sirius do something he doesn't want to,' he thought.

After staring angrily at Sirius for a few more moments, Molly exhaled and said, in a calm, but shaky voice, "We're cleaning the rooms in the west corridor today. I expect to see you both there as soon as possible." She stormed out of the kitchen, leaving Sirius with a small grin on his face. Remus only shook his head. The two friends sat in a calm silence, Remus reading and Sirius smoking, his eyes closed as he leaned back in his chair, content. After a few minutes, Sirius put the cigarette out and rose from the table.

"Come on," he said to Remus. "Let's go join the crowd." Remus dog-eared the page and set the book on the table, getting up to join his friend. They reached the corridor to find everyone gathered outside of one of the rooms.

"What's going on?" said Sirius.

"We can't get the door open," replied Ron, who sat against the wall, bored.

"You know there are plenty of other rooms to – OOMPH!" said Remus, who was elbowed harshly in the ribs by Sirius.

"Oh, well," said Sirius, "looks like cleaning's off for today. Later, everyone." He turned to leave, but Molly blocked his way.

"Not so fast, Sirius." She stared him down (or, rather, up, since he was much taller than she was). Sirius didn't even argue. He sighed and leaned against the wall, watching as Fred and Geroge picked at the lock on the door. Sirius grinned. Molly must have threatened them with something pretty bad, he figured, because the Fred and George he knew would never use their skills for anything other than pranking purposes. Eventually, the lock gave way with a click! And the door opened. Everyone slowly filed inside, Sirius being the last in line.

When he finally entered the room, he looked around...and smiled. It was the ballroom of the vast Black family mansion. Sunlight filled the room, pouring in from the huge windows onto the intricate patterns of the tiled floor. This was the one room of the house Sirius had ever enjoyed spending any time in, especially during the long summers that he was stuck there during his Hogwarts years, when he really wasn't welcome, but had no choice but to stick around.

The others talked in excited voices, happy to find such a beautiful, brightly lit room in the otherwise dark, dank mansion. Sirius laughed as he watched the scene before him: Hermione and Ginny swung each other around in a fake waltz, while Fred and George took their shoes off and were running and sliding along the smooth floor in their socks. Molly, on the other hand, was inspecting the massive green curtains for doxies.

Sirius scanned the room from left to right, taking in every detail. When his eyes reached the far right corner, he stopped and stared. Illuminated as if by a spotlight, was a dusty, black grand piano. Sirius walked slowly across the vast ballroom to the waiting instrument. When he reached it, he ran his hand across the dust-covered top, as if to make sure it was really there. When he was satisfied that the warm wood was, in fact, real, he sat down on the bench and ran his fingers over the dusty keys, pressing them every so often. It was of course, horribly out of tune after over a decade of not being used, but that could be fixed. Sirius got up and opened the top, keeping back a little in case something had decided to make its home there. When nothing jumped out at him to try and eat his face, Sirius looked under the top at the strings that were covered in cobwebs. He batted them away and took out his wand. He waved it a few times and the tension of the strings slowly began to adjust. When the knobs stopped moving, Sirius pressed a few of the keys, satisfied with the light, high sound they produced. 'Perfect,' he thought.

"You play?" asked Hermione, a touch of surprise in her voice. Sirius jumped a little, having been too engrossed with the instrument to notice her approaching him.

Before he could answer, Remus leaned against the piano and said, "'Course he does! Sirius is brilliant at the piano. He's a musical bloody genius." He grinned encouragingly at his best friend, who was looking down at the keyboard.

"I'm not that good," Sirius said quietly.

Remus laughed. "Modest too."

"Play us something!" piped in Ginny. The rest of the group, which had gathered around, agreed enthusiastically.

"No," said Sirius. "Really...I-I'm out of practice..."

"Oh, come on!" said Ron. "We could use some music around here."

"Sing us a song, you're the piano man..." sang Remus, grinning broadly. Sirius glared at him.

"You know I hate that bloody song."

"But of course!" the werewolf replied. Sirius got the feeling that Remus was enjoying this entirely too much.

He sighed. "Fine!" he said, pretending to be annoyed, but the grin on his face betrayed him. Sirius sat on the bench, his back straight and his hands hovering over the keys. He looked as though he was about to give a performance at Albert Hall. He lowered his right hand, and Hermione laughed loudly when she recognized the song he was playing.

"'Chopsticks?!'" she asked incredulously.

Sirius grinned and said, "I'd like to see you bust out the Beethoven after fourteen years away from a piano!" The laughter of the crowd died down as Sirius poised himself to begin again. He looked over the keys as though he was seeing an old friend again. He could hear each key's specific sound in his head before he even touched them. Sirius racked him mind for a song to play, then it hit him. He began playing and a light melody filled the room. It was a song Sirius was sure everyone would recognize – Pachelbel's "Canon." Everyone was smiling as Sirius's hands glided across the keys, amazed that their brooding host could produce such a beautiful melody.

While everyone watched, Sirius lost himself in the music. He remembered the first time he had learned to play that song, as well as when he tried to teach it to his younger brother, Regulus. Sirius didn't even need the sheet music; he had played it so many times that the notes were permanently embedded in his mind. When he was at Hogwarts, Remus always used to point out to him that when he was daydreaming, his fingers moved as if he was playing piano. It was his favorite song. It was in his head all the time, and when he didn't have a piano, he had no choice but to play on the desk or table or whatever other surface was near.

Eventually, the sheet music in Sirius' head ended and the last note died, lost in the echo of the magnificent room. His fingers lingered on the white keys for a few moments, then he looked up – everyone was smiling, calmed by the music that still seemed to remain in the walls.

The word "wow" lingered on Hermione's tongue, but she couldn't bring herself to say it. In fact, everyone was speechless. Sirius almost laughed at the expressions on the faces of those around him. Only Remus wore a knowing grin. His eyes shone as Sirius glanced at him and smiled widely.

"You know," said Molly, breaking the silence, "I'm not really in the mood to clean today...and it's not like we don't have all summer...maybe we should just...relax." She grinned approvingly at Sirius who smiled back. Everyone agreed happily and dispersed from around the piano, though no one left the room. They all stuck around, hoping that Sirius would play again, but he didn't. He only played a few light melodies; nothing as intricate as the song that had just dazzled them all so much. After a while, everyone except Remus left to go eat lunch. When the last Weasley had left the room, Sirius glanced up at Remus, who said, "Well, I'm not leaving!" Sirius laughed, and began a new song.