THE BOOK OF LOVE

Description: Sirius Black's romances throughout the years, with girls from each of the four Hogwarts houses (partially inspired by F. Scott Fitzgerald quotes.)

The romances will be recounted in chronological order and are all inter-connected, one stemming from the other like intertwining tendrils. Four sections are dedicated to each important relationship in Sirius's life, which are then further divided into chapters. The length of each section depends on the complexity and length of each romance.

We will begin with Slytherin, Ethel of the Greengrass family being Sirius's first notable paramour.

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Slytherin: Part I

While Sirius Black had numerous crushes growing up (after all, didn't they say Hogwarts had the prettiest girls out of all the Wizarding schools in Europe?), the first woman to catch his attention – and the first one to make him fall in love – was, without the shadow of a doubt, Ethel Greengrass. Before Sirius knew Hogwarts, or any life beyond blood supremacy and emotional oppression, he knew Ethel.

Ethel was a descendant of the Greengrass family, one of the Sacred Twenty-Eight families compiled by the author of The Pureblood Directory, Cantankerus Nott.

Out of the limited pool of pureblood families there still existed by the 1970's, both the Black and Greengrass family often had to not only tolerate but spend time with even those they didn't particularly like if they wanted company. Fortunately, they found they quite liked each other; both families were arrogant to the point of hubris, so confident in their own superiority it was a surprise they didn't look down on each other. They reveled in the plight of even their fellow purebloods, and adored ranting over the fall of Hogwarts and the Wizarding World now that it not only tolerated but welcomed into their midst with open arms those they considered to be of lesser lineage.

However, their relationship wasn't without strain. It was only a matter of time before their explosive personalities initially resulted in a fiery argument that burned them all. After lot of drinking, somehow the conversation was steered in the direction of the Greengrass family's lacking finances, which were understandably a sore topic. Walburga Black's mouth, however, got even bigger under the influence of alcohol. However, neither family showed any willingness to admit fault or to assume responsibility in any situation, which led to particularly prolonged and heated arguments. It took only one snide remark for Pandora's Box to open, and all the bad blood between the families was immediately spilled.

As always in such instances, Ethel's mother Seline had the presence of mind to call upon the House Elf to take the children into one of the upper bedrooms, hopefully out of earshot, to spare them of what was to follow.

However, on the particular night our story begins, the fight escalated so loudly that there wasn't a moment that either female screeching or the shattering of plates couldn't be heard one minute or the other, reverberating in the walls of the Black mansion. The other, less audible sounds could have meant anything from slightly less loud yelling to even a wand fight breaking out. Anything was possible on such festive occasions – that night, for example, they were supposed to celebrate Orion's birthday party. Needless to say, it didn't turn out that well.

The three children – Ethel, Regulus and Sirius – sat in utter, uncomfortable silence in the latter's room. Then another porcelain plate was shattered against the floor, and unintelligible, male yelling was heard. Regulus suddenly could not take it anymore and burst out crying. He was yet still too young to be able to fully grasp the situation; all he knew was that he felt it was infinitely wrong, that it scared him, and that he desperately wanted it to stop.

"What's happening?" he ground out between sobs. Big, fat tears trickled down his reddened cheeks as he sniffled furiously. Ethel fished out a handkerchief from the pocket of her robes and handed it to her. He took it and blew his nose into it obediently as Ethel began caressing his back to soothe him. "Please, tell me what's happening? Why are they arguing again? Why can't they stop?"

Sirius and Ethel exchanged glances. Was there a way to reply to that without getting him even more upset?

Sirius, agitated, attempted to deal with the situation as his father habitually did when he showed any signs of weakness: "Just shut up and suck it up," he snapped. He stood up from the bed and went over to his desk drawer only to begin rummaging in it frantically.

"Sirius!" Ethel snapped, aghast.

Sirius just shrugged irritably and stood up from the bed and went over to his desk drawer only to begin rummaging in them frantically.

Ethel and Regulus were both very sensitive. However, in Ethel Sirius saw a strength and autonomy that in his opinion his younger brother was severely lacking. Oftentimes, Sirius found himself envious of the two of them for being allowed such luxuries as open displays of vulnerability. Ethel was her parents' only child, and since her parents had what was in the 70's of the Wizarding Community already considered to be antiquated notions of gender, treated her both as an imbecile and a princess. Regulus wasn't treated like a lesser being, merely coddled too much for his own good, because he wasn't the primary heir to the Black fortune. As a result, Orion Black didn't insist on forcing his Draconion views of childrearing upon him in order to create a "suitable" heir to their tremendous legacy. It was more pressure that an eleven-year old child could possibly bear. As a result, he desperately envied both Ethel and Regulus for their situations, but Ethel always told him not to.

Angry at his lack of comprehension regarding anyone's issues but his own, Ethel one day decided to enlighten Sirius about her situation: "Why on Earth are you jealous, Sirius? I don't understand you at all. Sure, I get to do whatever I want – in your opinion…" She did not want to go into the more sordid details of her relationship with her parents or the general atmosphere of the Greengrass Mansion, either. "…but at what price? I live every day of my life knowing that my parents don't think I'm good enough. They don't expect anything from me because they don't think I'm capable of greatness – or much anything, really. They think… they think – they both think – that all I should care about is dresses and hairstyles and finding the 'right man to marry.' No, you have no idea what that feels like because everyone is so awed by you, like your Merlin's second coming! I would give my right arm for my parents to want me to be the heir instead of Admon."

Up to that point, Sirius had been left perplexed to the point of anger regarding Regulus's jealousy of him. Previously, he didn't think there could be anything worse than being forced into a destiny he had never chosen nor wanted. However, seeing the torment on Ethel's face on that day many a moon ago, he was forced to realize that living as an afterthought, in the shadow of another, was infinitely worse than being someone's first choice for the honorable role of a pureblood family's heir.

"What are you looking for?" Ethel asked curiously, snapping Sirius out of his reverie as she put a comforting arm around Regulus, who then stopped rocking himself back and forth to calm down to instead lean into Ethel like she was his mother.

Merlin, he is so weak, Sirius thought with a shiver of revulsion running down his spine, his features contorting with the emotion. Secretly, however, he was envious, wishing he could be afforded the luxury of displaying emotions perceived by his father as weak (and consequently, unbecoming of the heir of the Black fortune) and being coddled by their mother (also thought of as unbecoming of the heir of the Black fortune.) Oh, what a good life it must have been, and Regulus didn't even realize how fortunate he was!

"You just wait," Sirius replied cockily, hoping to impress both of them with his newly acquired treasure. They were going to downright worship him for his audacity when he revealed to them how he had come in possession of it. As he continued rummaging for the box of Muggle board games he had stolen on his latest outing to Godric's Hollow with his parents during the night, after his family had dozed off. He always felt bad after stealing, but it gave him an adrenaline rush for several reasons: firstly, it was a challenge that he felt accomplished if he managed to complete; secondly, it was one of the greatest acts of rebellion against his parents, which naturally made it all the more worthwhile for him.

He had nearly overturned everything in his drawers; he had hidden it so well even he didn't seem to be able to find his forbidden treasure. That, and his little brother's incessant, pitiful whimpering finally set him over the edge. "Regulus, shut the hell up! Honestly, you're so pathetic." He hated how every single woman – especially those older than him, including Ethel – coddled his weakling of a brother. He was hurting just as much as Regulus, if not more, and no one paid him any mind; he was expected to deal with it on his own without any external help. Even when he managed, no one lauded him for this great accomplishment, but were always there to reprimand him for the slightest mishap. The inequality and unfairness of the situation was simply outrageous!

Sirius's reaction to his weakness made Regulus erupt in wails. Sirius suddenly became more irritated than he had previously thought possible. He realized that by yelling he had merely escalated things, and chose to remain silent, cooking in his own stew. Ethel wasn't quite so complacent, however.

"Oh, Sirius, great job!" she snapped, hugging Regulus even closer, who was more than ready for someone to be spoiled with undeserved attention. Sirius swore his little brother was just milking it both as a form of petty revenge on him and also to hog Ethel's attention. Sirius despised him.

However, his worst suspicions seemed to turn out to be false when eventually Regulus calmed down as Ethel talked to him kindly, softly, and compassionately, all the while caressing his back, as though some sort of temporary substitute for Walburga.

"There, I found it!" he said, victoriously brandishing the box of Muggle board games high up in the air. "Look!" he commanded, fighting for attention from their guest himself.

After a moment of consideration, Ethel merely raised her eyebrows superciliously, as though perplexed by what she was supposed to be impressed by. Regulus stared on impassively as though seeing his older brother for the first time. Obviously, he didn't recognize the box in Sirius's hands either.

"What's that?" Ethel asked at last, disgruntled. She disentangled herself from Regulus, who seemed lost in his thoughts – present physically, but presumably back in the dining room where their parents were still arguing over nothing – and scrambled up from the bed to amble over to where Sirius was sitting on the floor.

Fondness washed over him at the girl's reaction. She was the only one he knew who shared his rebellious fascination with Muggle culture and artefacts. He was closer to Ethel than his own flesh and blood. Theirs was a rare alliance in a pit of snakes.

"Is that a Muggle game?" Ethel asked in a hushed whisper, her grey eyes lighting up with excitement. Though she did her best to hide it, her voice trembled with curiosity. Sirius proudly handed over the box to the awed girl. "How did you get this?"

Then Ethel's eyes lost all their spark. "You're going to get in a lot of trouble for this," she said, suddenly awfully serious.

"Not if they aren't going to find out," Sirius said with a wicked grin, which Ethel returned, eyes gleaming with just the tiniest hint of awe. Ethel, though eternally struggling between remaining the obedient daughter her parents required her to be and following the dreams of her own heart, allowed herself to be swayed easily into rebellion. As the years progressed, her reluctance in indulging her curiosity increased, although her intense fascination with the forbidden remained. This night, perhaps under the emotional shock of yet another dinner gone horribly awry, she didn't try to fight it.

"You guys really shouldn't do that," Regulus suddenly piped up, surprising both of the older children. His tone was a warning, his expression stern, mirroring Orion's for a second. Regulus was awfully passionate about blood supremacy; in all other instances, however, he was merely an empty shell waiting to be filled, always following in the footsteps of those stronger than him, the unwavering crony of all the playground bullies.

"Why not?" Ethel demanded testily. She did not like her authority being challenged by someone who normally obeyed whatever he was told. However, the subject of blood supremacy, and his deluded conviction in his own superiority – to which Regulus, like all purebloods, seemed to hang on to as if they were fighting for dear life – rendered him fearless even in the face of two children considerably stronger than he was.

"Mom and Dad are going to catch us," Regulus said worriedly. "Haven't you heard?"

"What?" Ethel asked irritably.

The children remained quiet for a few seconds. "We don't hear anything, Regulus," Ethel said at last, voicing both of their opinions.

"Yeah, Regulus. You're just a coward," Sirius grumbled.

"That's exactly it!" Regulus insisted. "Nothing! They've stopped arguing!"

Silence fell upon the room as Ethel and Sirius turned to each other in panic: they both knew what this meant. Soon, the adults would ascend to Sirius's room to placate them for ruining the evening. Now silent, they all could hear what only Regulus had heard before: the slowly approaching, soft footsteps of Walburga Black. (Having lived with her in the same household for over a decade, Sirius could recognize the footsteps of each member of his family.)

Sirius tore the board game out of Ethel's hands and quickly stashed it away into the closest drawer he could find and then frantically began cleaning up the mess he had caused trying to find it. Equally panicked, Ethel joined. They could not see Regulus smirking contentedly behind their backs.

When the footsteps got dangerously close, both Ethel and Sirius did their best to assume unsuspecting, innocent positions on the floor as well as facial expressions. They mostly managed; however, that was precisely what aroused Walburga's suspicions. Her forehead creased with lines of suspicion and her blue eyes clouded when she turned to her older son.

"Sirius," she said, her tone threatening wrath. The blond woman slowly, menacingly began to approach his dark-haired son. Involuntarily, Sirius cowered slightly. But for all his fear, the eleven-year old boy faced the threat of his mother's anger head on. "What have you done now!?" Walburga demanded. It was obvious she was trying her hardest to remain calm, but the note of shrillness in her voice betrayed her.

"Nothing," Sirius insisted, a slight tremor in his voice.

Walburga, taking in the mess of random Wizarding artefacts and toys near his drawer, knew better than to let an obvious lie go. She swore under her breath, beside herself with anger. She aggressively pushed her son aside, whose head nearly hit the wall, and tore his desk drawers open one by one. In her blind rage she didn't immediately notice among the mess in each of Sirius's drawers the odd one out, the one thing that didn't belong with all the magical objects. Regulus's expression of anticipation faltered to be replaced by one of badly concealed disappointment.

Unable to take the suspense anymore, he said, "It's in the third drawer."

Ethel's jaws dropped open in disbelief, stunned and angered by the blatant and unabashed betrayal; the look on Sirius's face was simply indescribable. Hurt, shame and betrayal all contorted his face, and he suddenly became so white his pale grey eyes seemed vibrant in comparison.

Something in Ethel froze, and the notion of the importance of blood shattered in front of her eyes. Her chest constricted with an overindulgence of compassion, feeling his pain as though it were her own. Sirius was too ashamed to return her worried gaze; he was solely focusing on her mother, still searching for his forbidden toy, his stare a silent, but all the more pitiful plea to Merlin or whoever would listen to be spared the punishment that was undoubtedly to follow.

"It's right there," Regulus chimed up again; his voice was entirely helpful; he hid his impatience at the impending doom over Sirius's head well.

Ethel and Sirius both glared at him with all the hatred they could muster. That was the moment the proverbial cup overflow and Sirius snapped. "Shut up, you coward!" he screamed furiously, running towards his younger brother in a blind rage. The last thing Sirius registered was the upward curl of Regulus's lips, already reveling in how much trouble his bigger brother was going to get in for his uncontrolled temper. Sirius, however, was so livid he didn't care. All he cared about was causing Regulus as much pain as the latter had caused him; and if he couldn't cause him any pain emotionally, he was going to do it physically.

Before anyone could do anything else, Orion and Ethel's parents, Silene and Leonard Greengrass stepped inside the commodious room. "Hey, what's taking so long?" Orion asked in a light-hearted tone, unaware of what awaited him inside. Then the air in the room suddenly froze. Sirius and Regulus promptly stopped fighting, and even Walburga looked up at him in fear. A mere glance around the room was sufficient for Orion to be able to determine exactly what had happened. This scene, sadly, was all too familiar to him. They were the laughingstock of the pureblood community for their older son's behavior. Livid, he strode over to Sirius, grabbed him by the labels and began shaking him furiously.

Ethel swallowed hard, her heart furiously thudding against her chest. It was a disturbing scene to watch, and she felt a bile of vomit rising up her throat, which she fought hard to repress.

"One of your Muggle things again, huh? Isn't it?" Sirius didn't reply, just stared in utter fear at his father. "How dare you!? In my own house!? In front of my guests!? Corrupting their daughter's mind?"

Ethel didn't dare correct him.

"Have you no shame? No gratitude at all?" He let go of Sirius suddenly, who fell to the floor with a barely audible thud. Ethel released the breath she didn't even realize she had been holding in, relieved.

For a moment, they all thought that that was it; Orion, uncharacteristically, would be magnanimous enough to let this minuscule issue go just for the night, to salvage whatever was left of it, for their guests' and their own sakes. They thought that perhaps he realized that more than enough drama had ensued already to pursue this issue right there and then. How wrong they were.

Sirius stood up, dusting off his pants, a smug grin spreading across his face involuntarily, so relieved he was that he got off relatively scot-free this time. Then, as though sensing this relief, Orion turned back and slapped his son to wipe that blood-boiling grin off his face, so hard that he flew back to the floor.

The pain and the humiliation was so intense, tears began to prickle against the sides of Sirius's eyes. In that moment, he hated his father more than words could possibly express. Ethel watched, paralyzed, wanting to but unable to avert her gaze. Before Sirius could recover from shock and reply, Leonard quickly said, "We'll just go then, I guess."

Orion suddenly seemed to remember their presence, and ran an agitated hand across his thick, black hair. "Oh – my –" he began to perspire, embarrassed. "I'm sorry – I'm so sorry you had to see that –"

"M-hm," Leonard said. "That's alright." His tone was dripping with sarcasm.

"We all have family troubles," Silene offered by way of consolation, but her eyes gleamed with malice. "Come on, Ethel, get up." She said, and her daughter stood up immediately to rush over to her side. Silene put an arm around her daughter and led her out of the room.

A desperate jealousy and eternal sadness washed over Sirius. The Greengrasses were the picture perfect pureblood family, and they treated their daughter nice… in his greatest act of self-betrayal, he toyed with the idea of giving into his parents' demands, stripping himself of all individuality and becoming exactly who they wanted him to be. No, he thought, fired up. The more his parents would try to break him, the more he would resist. They were never going to break him in.

"I will walk you out," Walburga offered immediately.

"Not necessary," Silene said with a coy smile. "I think you have enough work to do here."

Walburga was stunned into silence. She dropped her arms angrily. Orion and Leonard exchanged a meaningful glance, and before another argument erupted, Leonard quickly said, putting an arm around Walburga friendlily, "No, please walk us out. My wife was just trying to be helpful. But we appreciate your kindness greatly. Please, walk us out."

Walburga glanced at Orion for what to do, who nodded just slightly. Suppressing a sigh, Walburga gruffly said, "Follow me," and lead them out of the room. Ethel reluctantly allowed herself to be dragged away from the scene unfolding behind her. She kept glancing back worriedly, but then Orion shut the door behind her abruptly. The last thing she saw was Regulus's overconfident smirk, which was enough to confirm her worst suspicions. Her stomach churned in disgust.

The low, unintelligible but all the more menacing murmurs coming from Sirius's room would haunt her all the way home.

Once downstairs, the Greengrasses took turns using the fireplace to Floo back to their own mansion.

Depression weighed down her shoulders as she stepped out of the fireplace, slightly dirty from the travel. Her mother quickly whisked her wand out to clean them all up, ("Scurgefy!") and then turned to her husband. Their eyes lit up and they burst out laughing. The sound hurt Ethel's ears. A wave of fury washed over her, unable to comprehend what they could possibly be laughing about right now.

"Serves them right, the lofty lot of them! To have a son like that!" Silene said at last.

"Always going on about how good they are," Leonard said, shaking his head, pushing his glasses up on the bridge of his nose. "Better than us, because of how much money they have!"

They stepped over to the dining table and poured themselves a glass from the bottle of Firewhiskey left on the table, as though celebrating something. They always drank a little alcohol before going out, to "put themselves in the mood," as they said.

Silene giggled. "Pour me some, honey," she requested, and Leonard promptly obliged. She took a generous sip from it. "This is a time for celebration! I hope that kid breaks them apart," she said.

"To Sirius!" Leonard exclaimed, and husband and wife clinked glasses, celebrating the demise of a family they called their friends.