Hey guys! Here's another little idea from my head! This takes place about two years before IWJHYLitL. It's the story of exactly how Sirius left home! The title comes from a Panic at the Disco song, That Green Gentleman (Things have Changed).

He wanted to count the days until summer ended.

But, he knew if he did he would only become depressed.

Because the number of days left would just serve to remind him that he had to spend the next two months at home with his family.

At home with them, but not actually in their presence. The day he and his brother had returned from school, Sirius had made the mistake of disagreeing with his mother's rather loud and public musings about the color of Lily Evans's blood. While Walburga had insisted that it ran a "filthy, muddy brown," her elder son had reassured her that the girl's blood ran "redder and more magical than the majority of the Black Family's blood combined." And thus, Sirius had been sentenced to spend the summer in his room studying pureblood theory. Sirius had conveniently forgotten about that part of his punishment, and spent most of his days decorating his walls with pictures of Muggle girls on Muggle motorcycles and huge, colorful Gryffindor banners.

This punishment was both a blessing and a curse, Sirius decided three days into vacation, because while he got to avoid contact with Walburga, Regulus, and Absent Orion, he was also cut off from the rest of the world. And, well, the Muggle pictures were only amusing for about two days before their constant, unwavering stares became more creepy than sexy.

It had only been four days. Four days spent locked in his room with no wand, no owl, and no idea of exactly how far his mother's patience would stretch when it came to Sirius's obvious defiance of her reading assignments.

He was only let out of his bedroom to use the bathroom and for meals. He was instructed not to speak during any of these trips into the free world, lest he be punished severely. Never one to bend to rules immediately, Sirius had quickly learned on his second day of exile that "severe punishment" was actually quite the understatement.

Then again, how on Earth was he supposed to have known that his mother had decided that the best was to discipline her wayward child was to force him to endure one minute under the Cruciatus Curse for every word that he uttered in defiance of her orders? Thankfully, he caught himself after uttering the first syllable in the word "hello" after his mother raised her wand and started on "Crucio!" While Walburga had stopped herself before she could actually perform the curse, seeing that Sirius had clamped his mouth shut quickly, he had nearly had a heart attack and his skin had suffered a strange and uncomfortable prickling sensation all over. Sirius could not believe that his mother could stoop so low as to use an Unforgivable Curse on her child. Then again, it shouldn't have surprised him as much as it did. Walburga had always had a warped way of teaching lessons.

And well, the attempted curse had taught Sirius a lesson. The lesson being that he needed to shut up around his mother, but was still a lesson that he would not be forgetting anytime soon. She had explained the detailed of the possible punishment to him over dinner. He was not looking forward to any possible conversation opportunities anytime soon.

Four fucking days of solitary confinement, three of those days under the threat of torture if he spoke. Sirius was beside himself with annoyance and anger. How was it that he was forced to stay at home with his lousy family, while everyone else in the world enjoyed their summer?

Sirius thought rather bitterly of his three best friends.

James had no real plans for the summer, other than to spend the majority of it on his broomstick. He was going to enjoy the nice weather and probably spend a good deal of time with his rather elderly parents in their mansion in Kent.

Remus was going to split his summer between his mother's house and his grandmother's house. He hadn't seen his grandmother in several years and she had bombarded him with letters throughout much of the school year begging him to visit.

Peter was working with his parents in the small sweet shop that his family owned in Diagon Alley. He got to keep all of his wages and get free candy as an added bonus for when the shop got busy. When he wasn't working, Peter was given free reign and could go wherever he wanted in London.

And, Sirius thought bitterly, he got to spend the summer stuck inside his own personal hell hole with nothing to do but read books with titles like Purifying the Wizarding Bloodline and Muggles: An in Depth Description of Our Inferior Counterparts. Sirius groaned. At least he had managed to keep his two way mirror. It was there in case of emergencies. Like being held prisoner in you own home. Sirius pulled the mirror from his pocket and said clearly into its face, "James."

The mirror, however, showed nothing more than his own reflection. "Damn it." He tried again. No answer. He sat there, brooding over his pathetic summer vacation, and his best friend who was obviously having so much fun that he couldn't be bothered to keep the mirror on him. Why couldn't Sirius just have a normal family?

At dinner on day number five of Sirius's soul breaking summer his parents were making polite conversation about their favorite subject: Sirius and what to do with him. They were, at the current moment, considering sending him off to stay with some obscure, but most likely strict, relative in France.

It was at this moment that Regulus decided to alter the course of his brother's life forever. "Mother," he said during a lull in the conversation. "I heard Sirius talking to someone last night."

"You did, now?" Walburga said, her eyes flashing. "To whom was he speaking?"

Regulus, shooting a dazzlingly fake grin at his elder brother, said frankly, "James Potter. I clearly heard him say, 'James. Damn it. James.'"

Sirius paled as his mother turned her eyes on him.

"Is this true?"

Sirius considered vocally responding before remembering the wand she carried in her robe pocket. He considered shaking his head, indicating that he had done no such thing. He considered just pissing her off and nodding vigorously. But Sirius was far from suicidal. He did not respond at all.

"Sirius. Answer me. Is this true?" Her voice was quiet and calm. This meant, ultimately, that dinner could be lethal. Generally Walburga screamed. It took a lot to make her put on the calm-and-deadly act.

Swallowing hard, Sirius was suddenly filled with one emotion he had never truly connected with his mother: fear. Now, he was scared. Terrified of his own mother. She usually screamed. Now she was quiet. She used to scream, send him away without dinner and that was that. Now she threaten torture if he so much as spoke to her. Sirius could not answer her. Whatever he said, or signified, would undoubtedly doom him. He sat motionless.

He could honestly say that he saw the slap coming. His mother had never hit him, physically hit him before. She had never let him get under her skin so much. She was always composed when it came time for her to punish him. Not this time. He had gone too far in her eyes, and Sirius knew it. But he saw her wind up, and saunter over to him. He saw her hand flying through the air toward him. He could have ducked, or flinched, but instead he took the slap.

She stared at him, wild eyed, waiting for a reaction.

Sirius gave his mother no such thing. He simply stared across the table at his brother, gray eyes boring into an identical pair. So, Walburga hit Sirius again. No reaction. She hit him harder. Nothing.

"You… Will… Answer… Me… Sirius… Black…" He heard her say, still quietly, punctuating each word with a slap across his face. "Were you talking to James Potter last night?" She asked quietly.

He did not answer.

He didn't even acknowledge her. He was too paralyzed with indecision. Answer her and be tortured, or remain silent and torture her?

Walburga had grabbed him by the hair and was dragging him from the table. "Get up," She shouted at him. Standing, he was a full head taller than she was. But Walburga Black had never looked taller to him. She was the size of skyscraper, and he was an ant, and it was then that he realized that she was going to squash him.

She pointed her thin wand at him, and then, Sirius quickly learned what it meant to have your life flash before your eyes. He could see everything, every good memory, every terrible one, all of the ones in between. She was pointed her wand at his chest and Sirius knew he was going to die. His mother had officially lost her mind and she was going to kill him, it was all so clear. It nearly made Sirius laugh, although now would certainly be an odd time to do it. His crazy insane mother was going to kill be for obeying her orders and not speaking.

And then, suddenly, Sirius wasn't unarmed and defenseless. His own wand had zipped into the room. Landing in his hand, Sirius suddenly did not feel so powerless against the wrath of his insane mother. Walburga seemed to shrink back to normal size, and rather than defend himself or curse her, the first words that came to Sirius's mind were, "Accio Trunk!"

At his mother's confusion, Sirius dashed to meet the trunk as it swooped down the stairs. He shrunk it, slipped it into his pocket and made a mad dash toward the door. His mother was screaming at him now, but he could not hear her, and once he made it to the front door he realized that if he left, he could never, ever, come back.

And then he realized that he did not care in the slightest.

"Well, Mum, it's been fun. But, I think we're done here, don't you?" Sirius said, as if he had these kinds of conversations all the time. "Well, as much as I have enjoyed being a prisoner in my own house, hearing you bash my friends, and carrying on constantly in a haze of pure blood mania, I think it's time for us to admit that we've failed as a family and call it a day. Don't you agree?" The words were just slipping out of his mouth; he was trying to make her angrier, trying to get her to leap at him, trying to provoke her for one last time. "I won't be in touch. Have a nice life, you old hag." Sirius flipped Walburga the bird and dashed out the door. And then he ran, as quickly as he could manage.

Panting, Sirius finally stopped running several blocks later. He was attracting a lot of attention in his robes; Muggles were staring and pointing at him all around. Sighing, and checking the small amount of pocket money he had, Sirius flung out his wand arm on the street corner and waited patiently.

The Knight Bus pulled up a second later. The conductor asked him where he was headed, Sirius thought quickly. "Could you take me to the Potter Mansion in Kent, please?"

The conductor nodded, accepting the money that Sirius held out to him, but stared at the boy intently for a few minutes.

"Yes?" Sirius finally said, slightly annoyed by the stare.

"Sorry, sir," The man mumbled, "But I was wondering if maybe you wanted to clean up before you arrive? You've got a bit of blood on your face."

Sirius nodded, slightly surprised to hear that, and then scurried off to the lavatory where he was directed. Catching his reflection; Sirius saw somebody else in the mirror behind the door. This was not the Sirius Black that had been there this morning. And it had nothing to do with the three tiny, bleeding cuts about his cheeks that had probably come from one of his mother's rings. It was the expression, the demeanor. It was the relief on his face that shocked him most.

So, he had nowhere to go.

He had to beg James to let him stay until everything was figured out.

But, he wasn't at home. He wasn't at Grimmauld Place.

And he was never planning on going back.

This brought, Sirius decided as he washed the blood from his face, a huge amount of relief. It was nice.

An hour had passed since he had arrived outside the Potter residence. It was started to get dark outside, the sun sinking lower every second. The street lamps were starting to click on. Clouds had covered what remained of the evening sun, and it had begun to drizzle.

Despite all this, Sirius was far too nervous to go up and ring the bell.

As confident as he was in his friendship with James, Sirius was not sure exactly what his reaction would be when he saw Sirius upon his doorstep. He was worried that James's parents would not let him stay the night, terrified that they would send him away, or worse, send him back home.

It took another half an hour to work up the courage to walk to the door. It would have been longer if it weren't for the rain.

Ten minutes before he finally rang the doorbell, completely soaked through now.

After a minute of waiting, no one had answered.

Feeling a little panicky, Sirius knocked three times.

Finally, after what felt like ages, a figure appeared in the doorway. The door swung open, and revealed a man who looked exactly like James would look like in about a century, minus the glasses.

"Can I help you?" The man asked, looking more than confused at the sight of a teenager on his doorstep.

"Is James home?" Sirius asked timidly.

The man nodded. He did not move, but eyed Sirius suspiciously, his eyes fixed on the Black Family Crest sewn onto the chest of his robes.

Much to Sirius's relief, James appeared behind his father seconds later. "Dad? Who rang the bell a minute ago?" He walked closer. His eyes widened when they fell upon Sirius. "Padfoot!" He exclaimed, his face breaking into a smile. "Sirius, what are you doing here? I thought you were under house arrest!"

Sirius shrugged, biting his lip. "I had a bit of a row with my mother."

James nodded, then looked up at his father, who seemed to process the scene rather quickly. "Well, come on in, Sirius. It's raining."

Sirius stepped inside gratefully.

Once inside, however, everyone seemed at a loss of what to do. Thankfully, at this time, Mrs. Potter bustled in. "What on earth is going on here? Who rang?" Her question was answered rather quickly, as James stepped aside to reveal Sirius. "Oh, Sirius, dear! How lovely! It's always so nice to see you," She said, walking over to hug him. "My goodness, you're all wet! Did you swim here?"

Sirius smiled slightly, but shook his head to indicate that he hadn't.

"Well, dear, what brings you here?" Mrs. Potter asked pleasantly.

"I… well; I had a fight with my mother…" Sirius said quietly, his voice so timid that James shot him a look of concern. "It didn't seem like too bright of an idea to stay there after…"

Mr. Potter nodded. "Well, you might as well stay the night then. We'll get this sorted out in the morning."

Sirius nodded gratefully, and smiled.

"James," Mrs. Potter said, "Why don't you take Sirius up to your room? And give him some dry clothes to change into, won't you? He's soaked through!"

James nodded, muttering something about drying charms and Alzheimer's Syndrome under his breath, and then motioned for Sirius to follow him up the stairs.

"Prongs, I'm sorry to just barge in like this-" Sirius said as they climbed the stairs.

James waved a hand to dismiss him, and opened a door at the end of the hall. The room was large, about the size of Sirius's room at home. It had a large four-poster bed in the corner and a desk by the large bay window. A large wardrobe dominated the left corner of the room. The walls were decorated with posters and pictures, a combination of Muggle and magical. Gryffindor banners and assorted Quidditch paraphernalia decorated the ceiling. "Wow."

"Huh?" James asked, a little confused.

"You and I decorate alike," Sirius said by way of explanation.

"Not really surprising though, huh?" James said. He smiled at Sirius. "Moony always says that the two of us share the same half of a single brain." Looking a little more serious, James took a seat on his bed, and looked expectantly at Sirius. "So, what exactly happened?"

Sirius sighed, taking a seat beside James. He ran a hand through his hair, then said, "They locked me in my room save for meals. I wasn't allowed to talk, or my dear old mum would have cursed me. Seriously. Like, Unforgivables were nearly involved." Sirius was quiet for a moment as he gauged James's wordless reaction. Well, if he was shocked, James certainly hid it well. "Anyway, Reg overheard me trying to talk to you in the mirror last night-"

"-Sorry about that-"

"-and so my mum lost her mind completely. Went completely mad. Screaming and the like. Hit me a few times. So, I left."

"Wow. I'm sorry," James said, patting his friend's shoulder. He stood again and walked to his wardrobe. Grabbing out a pair of pajama, James handed them to Sirius. "Here. We'll have a pajama party."

Sirius grinned as James pulled out a pair for himself.

It had been a week since Sirius had left home.

As it turned out, the Potter's idea of "sorting things out" the morning after he arrived was to serve him huge amounts of pancakes, and then allow he and James to play pick-up games of Quidditch in the back garden for most of the afternoon.

Sirius was still at James's house, at Mr. and Mrs. Potter's insistence. They wanted him to stay until things got more settled. Sirius was not exactly sure what they meant by "settled." Things were pretty settled in Sirius's opinion. His parents did not want him, the feeling was mutual, and that was that. Walburga had written to inform Sirius that he had been written out of her will as well as his father's. This wasn't surprising; Sirius had been disinherited at the age of eleven. He was informed that he was never to return to Grimmauld Place; he smiled at that, since he was not planning on going back. He was told that he was burned off the family tapestry. Even though the information seemed to burn, Sirius decided that he didn't care. Good riddance.

What did bother him was that he was still at the Potters with no other place to go. They seemed happy to have him, but Sirius knew not to try the patience of an adult for too long. They would get sick of him soon enough, so Sirius needed to quickly find some other lodging until the end of the summer so he could avoid a sticky situation with the Potters.

After dinner that night a week after his arrival, Mrs. Potter knocked on the door to James's bedroom. Popping her head inside, she said, "Sirius? Could you come downstairs for a moment? Alan and I would like to speak with you." Both Sirius and James stood. "No, James. We'd like to speak to Sirius privately." Sirius nodded and followed Mrs. Potter from the room.

The walk from James's bedroom to the sitting room downstairs seemed to take a lifetime. Sirius was convinced that the Potters wanted to tell him to pack his things; that he'd intruded on their family long enough. They obviously wouldn't want to do it in front of James; he'd only get upset by it. If they did it privately, they could make it seem like Sirius's idea.

Sirius felt sick and panicky. He hadn't found anywhere else to go yet. His mind flitted quickly through a list of relatives. The only real possibility was Uncle Alphard, but he was currently living in Russia and it was impossible to travel using an International Portkey without parental consent. He thought to the tiny amount of money that he had on him; it was barely enough to buy an ice cream, let a lone rent a flat somewhere. He could not believe that he was being thrown out so quickly. He had hoped that they would give him at least another week or so. His throat felt tight; it seemed to burn.

"Sit down, Sirius," Mr. Potter's voice offered, nudging the boy back to reality. Sirius sat on the sofa across from the one where Mr. and Mrs. Potter were sitting. He clasped his hands in his lap to keep them from shaking. Mr. Potter cleared his throat. "Sirius," Mr. Potter began. Yet, his second word and those that should have followed did not come right way. "Honestly, I'm not really sure how to start."

Sirius gulped, feeling the blood drain from his face.

"We know that you are James's best friend," Mr. Potter said after a moment. "And after receiving a rather, erm, unpleasant letter from your parents we are well aware that you are no longer welcome at home."

Sirius felt like dying. He wanted to dash upstairs and grab his things; escape. This was mortifying. He just wanted to get away from this room and these people before he made an even bigger fool of himself. But before he could say or do anything, Mr. Potter continued.

"I suppose I may as well just say it. Sirius, would you like to stay here? With us, permanently?" Mr. Potter asked.

Sirius's jaw must have dropped. "I- I-" Sirius attempted to speak, but the words all died in his throat. His throat and eyes were burning and he felt like he a been filled to the brim with gratitude. He worried that they felt obligated to do this, yet touched that they had even offered.

"You don't have to if you don't want to," Mrs. Potter rushed to say. "We just thought, seeing as you haven't found a place to stay yet-"

"I don't want to intrude," Sirius finally choked out.

"Nonsense," Mrs. Potter said. "We're happy to have you, if you choose to stay."

"Thank you," Sirius said, looking down at the floor. "Thank you so very much." His jaw was tight, eyes rimmed slightly red, suddenly, Mrs. Potter's arms pulled him into a tight and warm embrace. When they broke apart, Mr. Potter cleared his throat and said, "Well, you had best go tell James. He's likely to get excited and wake the whole neighborhood."

Sirius smiled. He stood and said, "Thank you, sir."

"Call me Alan," Mr. Potter said kindly. "I'll have no more of this sir business."

"Yes si- I mean, yes Alan," Sirius said, smiling broadly before jogging up the stairs shouting, "Hey Prongs! Guess who just got a fulltime roommate?"

This was soon followed by a shout of "No way!" and then triumphant laugher.