Disclaimer: I do not own anything that appears in the HP books or films.

A/N: This story goes with all my other stories, and can be placed on the same timeline. This is the backstory of the Sirius who appears in my completed story Choices.

May as well get that established now that the relationship between the Marauders in this story is friendship only, so if you're looking for romance or anything else between them, look elsewhere. They're very young at the moment, but there will be plenty of James/Lily later on. There will also be mentions of other romances, but no major relationships for Sirius or Remus. I'm a Remus/Tonks shipper, and as this is the backstory for Choices... well, you'd have to read that one, but it excludes the possibility of giving him a romantic happy ending in this one.

I dedicate this story to arwenjanelilylyra, an amazing reviewer and writer, who basically gave me my love of the Marauders.

Hope you enjoy it!

Chapter 1 – Of Pureblood Dreams and Expectations

A small boy shot round the corner of the street on a bike, skidded on a patch of gravel and ground to a halt, tumbling off at the bottom of a set of steps. His knees were skinned, his hands filthy and his hair full of dust, but he didn't care. The other little boys laughed uproariously, and he joined them.

It had been a good day. They had ridden their bikes dangerously fast past old ladies who shouted at them; they had thrown pebbles at passing cars, and leaves at each other. They had trespassed in as many places as they could find, and picked plums off somebody else's tree.

Yes, it had been a decidedly good day, but it was over now. He was just about to get up and hand the borrowed bike reluctantly back to its owner, and say goodbye to his newfound friends, when the door at the top of the steps opened. A tall, well-dressed woman with glittering eyes stood in the doorway and looked down at him with cold fury on her face.

"In. Now," was all she said, but his heart sank. He was in trouble again. Big trouble.

He knew. He knew it all already, so he had stopped listening. Purebloods… Muggles… degrading himself… shaming the family… betraying his upbringing…

Sirius Orion Black had heard it all before.

Unfortunately, his mother noticed that he wasn't listening, and he found himself hitting the wall heavily, pain flooding through his shoulder and bringing tears to his eyes.

"Do you understand me, Sirius?" her voice was low and dangerous. He nodded, simply wanting to escape.

Her lips tightened.

"Well, I do not expect it to happen again. If it does, I shall be very angry, and I shall be forced to tell your father, understand me?"

He nodded again. He did indeed understand, and he had no desire to make her very angry, and even less for her to tell his father.

"Now go and get yourself cleaned up before he comes in. You look disgraceful."

He went.

Up in the bathroom, he washed his hands and face, then kicked off his shoes and trousers and surveyed the damage done to his knees. They were raw and scraped, with drops of blood leaking out. He sat on the edge of the bath, his feet inside, and tried to rinse them off, gritting his teeth as the water stung. His shoulder hurt where he had hit the wall, and he thought he might have bumped the back of his head as well, which he hadn't noticed at the time. Carefully, he felt the tender place, running his fingers through the thick black hair. No wetness, so he wasn't bleeding anyway.

He stared down at his legs, small and bare, and striped where he had poured water over his knees and it had trickled down, leaving clean streaks in the dirt. Setting his jaw and squeezing back the tears, he reached for a sponge and dabbed it over the cuts.

Behind him, the door creaked open and he glanced over his shoulder. A smaller boy had sidled in and was watching him, wide-eyed. He had the same black hair and startlingly blue eyes as Sirius, but while Sirius had the sort of face that drew gazes to him wherever he went and made elderly ladies smile and coo, the younger boy had the sort that faded into the background and wasn't remembered.

"Go away," Sirius snarled, in the mood to take things out on somebody else.

The smaller boy stared at him, unmoved.

"Why were you playing with Muggles?" He couldn't have been more than seven or eight, but his voice was cool and clear, and there was a faint curl of disgust in it on the last word; an imitation of the way their parents spoke.

"'Cause they're more fun than you!" Sirius retorted bitingly, knowing that he was being hurtful, but not caring very much. He was hurting too much himself. The younger boy looked at him with reproach.

"You don't mean that."

But Sirius was angry, and he was fighting back tears, which only made him angrier, and he was in no mood to back down and be nice.

"I do."

He swung his legs out of the bath, ignoring the sharp pain in his knees and the dull ache in his shoulder, grabbed his clothes off the floor and stalked out of the bathroom. His brother followed him. Regulus Black had not yet learnt when to stop pushing things.

"You've made the bathroom a mess. There's water on the floor and mud in the bath."

"Well, Kreacher can clean it up," Sirius said through gritted teeth, as he opened his bedroom door, "Now, go away!" And he marched into his room and slammed the door in his brother's face.

Later, when the pain had faded and he was feeling better, he felt guilty for taking it out on Regulus. It wasn't his little brother's fault, any of it. It was just that Regulus was there, and Sirius didn't get punished quite so badly for shouting at his brother as he did for shouting at his parents. So he was extra nice to Regulus that evening, and let him ride on the real, if child size, broomstick that Sirius had received for his ninth birthday, and they were almost back to being friends again, even if Regulus was a silly little twerp.

Sirius didn't see his Muggle friends again. His mother watched him like a hawk, and there was no escaping, so he was forced to mooch around Number 12, Grimmauld Place, with only the whiny company of Regulus, until their cousins came to stay. Not that that brightened things up much for Sirius, because their cousins were older than they were and all girls. In fact it only meant more rules and restrictions, because when they had guests he was expected to be present and polite all the time.

They liked Regulus better anyway. They petted him, and babied him, and he went along with it and sucked up to them, something Sirius refused to do. He allowed his Aunt Druella to kiss him on the cheek when they met, but his face showed only too plainly what he thought of this ritual, and his aunt sniffed disapprovingly.

"Well, still the moody little boy, I see, Sirius. Such a pity," she remarked to his mother, "He could be a pretty child if only he didn't look so sulky all the time. Still, he'll be off to Hogwarts in a couple of years, won't he? That'll soon knock the sulks out of him."

Sirius scowled still more as his mother agreed stiffly. What did they know? He didn't look sulky all the time, only when he was around them.

And pretty? He wasn't pretty!

He glowered round at his cousins. Bellatrix, who was almost grown-up these days, was smiling mockingly at him, and Narcissa had the vaguely disgusted look she always seemed to get when forced to be anywhere near him. Andromeda, though, gave him the ghost of a wink, and he felt a little bit better. Andromeda knew he wasn't sulky. She had seen him smile. And she would never call him pretty.

"What are you in trouble for now?" she murmured to him later, as they entered the Dining Room for dinner.

"How d'you know I'm in trouble for anything?" he muttered.

She smirked. "You're always in trouble for something."

He shrugged.

"Went and played with some Muggles," he said defiantly, waiting for her expression of disgust. It didn't come. Instead, she looked thoughtful.

"Oh. Did you like them?"

He gazed at her in surprise.

"They were… okay," he said at last, cautiously, thinking it might be a test, but refusing to lie. But there was no explosion. She just nodded slowly.

"I think they are… mostly. I mean, there are plenty of Muggle-borns at Hogwarts, and some of them are… okay, too. Don't tell anyone I said that, will you?" she added quickly.

He shook his head, too surprised to say anything. Andromeda had never said anything like that before, at least not to him. In fact, he had never heard anybody say such a thing, although he knew there were people who though like that. His parents were always complaining about them. 'Blood Traitors,' they called them, and sometimes 'Muggle-lovers.'

Was Andromeda a Blood Traitor? The thought made him uneasy, especially when he remembered that he himself had played with Muggles for a whole afternoon. Did that make him a Blood Traitor? He didn't really know what the term meant, but it didn't sound nice.

On the other hand, the idea of being something he knew his parents hated so much gave him a delightfully rebellious feeling. Maybe he ought to be a Blood Traitor, just to show them. And he had never heard the term 'Muggle-borns' either, although it was obvious what it meant. Why had she used that instead of saying Mudblood? He opened his mouth to ask her.

"Don't you know it's rude to whisper?" Narcissa's haughty tones interrupted them, and Sirius wished once more that it was Andromeda and not Narcissa who was closest in age to him. By the time he started Hogwarts in two years, Andromeda would be going into her final year, but he would have to put up with Narcissa for three whole years, breathing down his neck and reporting everything he did back to his parents.

At least Bellatrix would already have left, he thought with great relief. He liked to spend as little time as possible in his eldest cousin's company. This holiday was going to be bad enough; Bella had recently turned seventeen and could now legally do magic outside school. The thought made Sirius shudder slightly, and he resolved to avoid her whenever possible.

She had always taken a delight in tormenting him. Admittedly, she was always fairly unpleasant to Narcissa too, calling her Prissy Cissie, and saying she was a conceited fool, but she never seemed to take the same pleasure in causing her small physical pains as she did with Sirius. And somehow, for all their differences, Bellatrix and Andromeda seemed to maintain a sort of respectful truce. Probably because they both knew that although Bella would always win a duel, Andromeda would inevitably beat her older sister in a war of words.

The conversation at dinner was dull. They talked about politics, and Sirius closed his ears and concentrated on shovelling as much food as possible inside himself, ignoring Narcissa's pointed looks and sniffs. He knew she thought he was greedy and disgusting, but he didn't care much. He'd rather be greedy and disgusting than pick at his food the way Cissa did. She was so thin her elbows stuck out, and she must be hungry all the time. Sirius couldn't see the point.

Then the conversation turned to Hogwarts, and Sirius pricked his ears up, but after a few complaints about the new subject that had been introduced – Muggle Studies, whatever that might be – they started talking about Bella's new boyfriend, Rodolphus Lestrange. Sirius vaguely remembered Rodolphus Lestrange from various gatherings; a dark, stocky young man with an unpleasant expression. He hadn't liked him very much, and even Bella seemed fairly indifferent when she talked about him, but their parents approved whole-heartedly of him (mainly because he was very rich, Sirius thought), and smiled fondly at Bella as they talked of future marriages and plans.

"And is there anyone on the horizon for you, Andromeda?" Sirius' father asked, with a joviality that Sirius thought sounded very strange coming from him; usually his father was morose and bad-tempered. Bella looked up sharply, as though she quite wanted to hear the answer to that question herself, and Narcissa opened her mouth as though she might say something, but didn't.

"No," Andromeda said tonelessly, "There isn't anybody."

Sirius was fairly sure that he was the only one, apart from Narcissa herself, who had noticed Andromeda's elbow colliding with her younger sister's ribs.

"Ah well, plenty of time," Sirius' father was saying lightly, "You're only fifteen, after all. Give it a year or two."

"Rodolphus has a younger brother, I believe," Sirius' mother pointed out, with a smile, "Now that would be an excellent thing, wouldn't it? The Lestranges are a very good family. You could do a great deal worse, Andromeda."

A faint look of horror crossed Andromeda's face, and then she was back to expressionless. Sirius watched her with interest. It would be quite a useful thing to be able to do, he thought, make your face all blank like that. He could tell that it irritated his mother, but there was nothing actually wrong with it, so there was nothing she could say. And it meant that Andromeda could be thinking whatever she wanted behind that blank mask, and nobody would ever know. Perhaps he should learn it. No. He dismissed that idea. He would never be able to keep it up.

The conversation turned back to the Ministry, whom the Blacks disapproved of, and some bloke called Lord something-or-other, who was doing things the Blacks definitely did approve of, and Sirius returned to his food.

Two years later…

Sirius scuffed his feet and waited for his mother to emerge from Gringotts. She hadn't wanted to leave him outside, but the goblins had some new security rule, and wouldn't let more than two people in at once, even if two of them were children. Walburga Black had been furious, and had tried to play the 'I-am-a-Black-and-will-do-whatever-I-like' card, but the goblins hadn't been impressed. And Regulus was too young and stupid to be left on his own, so with some strict instructions ("I expect you to be right here when I come out, Sirius") she had left him. 'Right here' had actually been in the foyer of the bank, under the noses of the goblins, but the sun was shining outside, so he had wandered out onto the street, thinking optimistically that she couldn't blame him so long as he didn't go too far.

Across the road, the Quidditch Supplies shop and the Magical Menagerie were beckoning to him. He looked longingly at them and then glanced up at the imposing doors of Gringotts. His mother would be a while yet. And he was only going over the street; she would be able to see him as soon as she came out. He knew that that wouldn't stop her from being angry, but she was going to be angry that he had left the bank anyway. He might as well earn the anger.

Sirius sauntered across the street, enjoying the sensation of being unsupervised for once. A small boy about his own age, with hair the same colour as his own but sticking out in every direction, was standing in front of the Quidditch Supplies window, his face so close to the glass that his breath was misting it up. Sirius moved closer, curious as to what it was holding the boy's attention. His eyes moved over the window display, but he couldn't see anything special. Just brooms. Some pretty cool brooms, but only brooms. He was just about to go and look at the Magical Menagerie window, when the boy looked up and grinned. He was shorter than Sirius, and skinnier, and he wore glasses.

"My mum and dad are going to buy me one," he said, waving his hand at the window.

"Oh," Sirius returned his gaze to the window. He himself was still riding the kids' broom he had got more than two years ago, and he didn't think his parents would be willing to buy him a new one, even though he had outgrown it really.

"What d'you reckon I should get?"

"Um… I dunno," Sirius wasn't used to people being this friendly when they had just met him, and didn't quite know what to say.

"I wish I could take it to Hogwarts with me," the boy said wistfully, "I don't think it's fair that first years aren't allowed their own brooms," he looked appraisingly at Sirius, "Are you at Hogwarts?"

"I'm starting this year," Sirius informed him.

"Oh great! Me too. My name's James, by the way."

"I'm Sirius."

"Serious? Is that actually your name?" the boy grinned, "Are your mum and dad a bit mental or something?"

Sirius grinned reluctantly.

"It's Sirius, not Serious. S, I, R, I, U, S. But yeah, they are a bit mental. My whole family's called after stars. Sirius is the dog star."

"Where are they? Your mum and dad, I mean. Mine are in Flourish and Blotts. Buying books." The boy pulled a face, as though he found this a very boring thing to be buying.

"My mum's in Gringott's with my little brother," Sirius explained.

James' attention had returned to the brooms.

"D'you like Quidditch? Have you got a broom?"

"Only a kids' one," Sirius admitted, "I don't ride it much any more, it's too small. My brother mostly rides it. I haven't really played much Quidditch."

"Really?" the boy looked as though Sirius had been seriously deprived, "But Quidditch is amazing! I can't wait to start playing at Hogwarts. I reckon I might try out for my house team. You should get your parents to buy you a proper broom. The new Cleansweep's supposed to be great… But I think I might go for a Silver Arrow. I really want a Nimbus, obviously, but I don't reckon they'll buy me one. They'll say I'm too young to need a racing broom. But I don't know whether to ask for a Cleansweep or an Arrow. What do you reckon?"

Sirius looked at the window. The boy was obviously some kind of flying nut. All the brooms looked more or less the same to him, but he didn't want to admit it.

"Yeah… the Cleansweep looks good," he agreed, "But I think I'm going to ask for an animal. Maybe an owl. That's something I can actually take to school."

"Oh, right," the boy looked a little disappointed, "Yeah, I suppose having your own owl would be pretty cool. But I'm going to see if I can sneak a broom in. I reckon I can hide it from the teachers. Getting it past my mum'll be the hardest bit. She thinks rules matter."

Sirius grinned, warming to the boy, despite the obsession with brooms.

"Yeah. Mine too."

From the corner of his eye, he saw the doors to Gringotts open, and the figure of his mother came out, Regulus trailing after her. She looked extremely angry.

"That's my mother," he said hastily, "I'd better go. She told me not to wander off…"

"Okay," the boy grinned at him, "See you at Hogwarts!"

"What did I say?" Walburga Black asked through gritted teeth. Sirius knew that the sensible thing would be to apologise meekly and accept the scolding, but recently he hadn't seemed able to stop the arguments pouring out.

"I was only over the street," he protested, "What could have happened?"

"That is not the point," she said coldly.

"What is the point then?" he demanded, even thought his brain was saying, shut up Sirius.

She turned to face him, a dangerous glint in her eye.

"The point, Sirius, is that I am your mother, and that therefore, you are to do as I say, no matter what you, personally, may happen to think of my instructions."

This time, his brain managed to override his tongue, just. His mother took this as surrender, and turned away again, sweeping up the street. Sirius and Regulus followed.

"Who was that boy you were talking to?" she threw over her shoulder.

"Dunno," Sirius shrugged, "His name's James."

She stopped again and frowned at him.

"Sirius, we have told you this a hundred times. When will you learn? You are a Black. That means that you do not simply talk to any common filth you meet on the street. I didn't recognise him at all."

And that, to Walburga Black, was a significant mark against him. The Blacks knew everybody who was worth knowing. Sirius had quite liked the boy, and felt rebellion rise in him again, but he choked it down.

"He wasn't a Mudblood," he offered, "He was talking about Quidditch. And he knows how to fly a broom."

Walburga looked slightly mollified, but she still pursed her lips.

"Sirius, even among wizards, one cannot just make friends with everyone. Some families are simply superior to others, and the Blacks have a reputation to uphold. You are not to make casual acquaintances on the street. Wait until you get to Hogwarts, and Narcissa can introduce you to the right kind of people."

Sirius scowled at the ground. He thought of his supposedly superior family. His parents, who screamed murder at each other and thought nothing of throwing him across a room when they were angry. His cousins, who constantly sniped at each other; Bellatrix, who liked nothing better than to cause people hurt; Narcissa, stuck-up and self-obsessed; and Andromeda, blank-faced and, he was sure, unhappy around her family. He thought of his aunt and uncle, with their sneering and complaining, and of Regulus, the whiny little baby.

He wasn't sure he wanted to meet the 'right people' if they were like the Blacks. He'd rather talk to Mud- no, Muggle-borns. He was trying not to use that word any more. Until recently he hadn't known that there was anything wrong with it, but he had used it at Easter, in front of Andromeda. His cousin had winced.

"Sirius, you know that's a really derogatory term?" she had said.

He had stared at her. "What does… degotry… mean?"

"It's der-og-at-or-y," she had said clearly, "and it means it's an insult. A really bad insult. And it's mean. There's nothing wrong with Muggle-borns. They're perfectly nice, a lot of them, and they make just as good witches and wizards as Purebloods do. There's nothing the matter with their blood."

He hadn't really understood, but of the whole of his family, Andromeda was the only one he really liked (except Uncle Alphard, who was good fun, but who lived abroad and only turned up once in a blue moon. And maybe Regulus, sometimes) so he was doing his best to remember.

The night before he left for Hogwarts, his father summoned him into his study. Sirius went with some trepidation. The only times he had been in there before had been when he was in some kind of big trouble. But although his father was frowning, he didn't look angry. He was smoking a cigar, and used it to gesture at a chair.

"Sit down," he said, peremptorily, and Sirius sat, wrinkling his nose at the strong smell of cigar smoke.

"Big day for you tomorrow," Orion Black said, after a pause.

"Yes," agreed Sirius meekly. He was looking forward to it. To getting out of this house and away from the oppressive influence of his parents.

"The next seven years," said Orion impressively, "will be the most important of your life. School either makes or breaks a wizard. It moulds you into the sort of man you'll be for the rest of your life. By the time you finish, you'll be a fully trained, adult wizard, ready to make your mark on the world. I hope you understand that."

Sirius, who had switched off by the end of the first sentence, nodded solemnly.

"And I expect you," his father went on, "to do your name proud. You're the eldest son. My heir. You have a lot to live up to. I've got high expectations for you, my boy. You're wild and untrained at the moment – your mother's spoilt you…" Sirius opened his mouth to disillusion his father of this astonishing idea, and then realised that that would be the most stupid thing he could do, and closed it again with a snap, "but you're a clever boy," his father went on, not noticing Sirius' expression, "You've got brains. And it's important that you learn to use them in the right way. School will teach you that. You're a Pureblood, Sirius. And you're more than just any old Pureblood. You are the Black Heir. The Blacks are one of the oldest and most respected Pureblood Houses in the country. When you finish school, you'll have the world at your feet. That's something you can be very proud of, but it's not something you can take lightly."

Sirius was listening now, despite himself, his mouth hanging slightly open and an expression of amazement on his face, but Orion Black might almost have been talking to himself for all the notice he was actually taking of his son.

"Pureblood Wizards are the natural leaders of this world. But with power comes responsibility; it is people like you who must prepare to take that responsibility. I believe that change is coming soon. That there will come a time, within your lifetime, if not within mine, when we will not have to hide and skulk behind secrecy and lies. When we can take our rightful place in the world openly. We shall rule those filthy Muggles, and we shall do it well.

"That is my dream. That is the dream of all right-minded Purebloods. But I hope that for you it will be more than a dream. It will not fall into your lap. You must work for it. You must use those brains of yours, Sirius. You must not allow blind sentiment to cloud your judgement. You must think with your head, not your heart; you must be clear-headed, judicious and controlled. Only women and children allow their hearts and sentiments to rule them. You will be a man. You must aim for the very highest, my boy, for that is what you deserve.

"You can learn all of those things at Hogwarts, and more besides. It isn't all about wandwork and potions. It's about character. There has never been a Black who hasn't been in Slytherin, and there's a reason for that. You can learn all the things I have been talking about in that house. The Slytherin ideals are our ideals. There you will learn to use your head and control your heart. There you will learn to understand what power and ambition mean, and you will meet others with the same values. Purebloods belong in Slytherin, for there they will learn how to rule."

Sirius might have been quite impressed. He might have believed it.

If it hadn't been for the fact that his father had always left him in no doubt that he thought Sirius a stupid lout, not a clever Pureblood heir, and had hit him too often for Sirius to have any admiration left for the man.

If it hadn't been for the fact that Andromeda was his favourite cousin, and had told him that Muggle-borns were just as good at magic as Purebloods, and that Muggles themselves were really quite normal.

If it hadn't been for the fact that Orion seemed to be talking about things that were as far from what Sirius wanted as it was possible to get. Power? Responsibility? Ambition? Hard work? Sirius shied away violently from such thoughts.

Why did he have to be like that? All he wanted to do was have fun; he didn't want to rule anybody. Why did he have to be the Heir? He wished he were the younger son (although having Regulus for an older brother wouldn't be much fun). Then he could be like Uncle Alphard, who was generous and irreverent and funny, and did exactly what he liked.

His father seemed to want him to become like Orion himself, and that was something Sirius knew he could never be. He was going to be a terrible Pureblood Heir.

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