Saturday
By Artichokie

The crashing of glass echoed inside young Sirius Black's head. It was a loud sound, an ominous sound; a sound so utterly familiar to the child that he could predict what came next. A sound so frightening that, out of habitual reaction, sent him cowering in the tightest corner.

He held his hands over his ears in an attempt to drown out the yelling that followed the crash. Of course, it was a fruitless endeavor; no matter how hard he squeezed his head, the yelling only grew louder. The echo only pulsated quicker.

He hated these days. Every Saturday for as long as he could remember, his parents fought. Over the years, the arguments steadily became more violent until every single one started with the destruction of an object.

This morning had been no different. The day was still young; Sirius had just gotten up to pull some clothes on when the start of an argument signaled. Experience had told him not to flinch; uncertainty had told him to hide. Instead of doing that, however, he ran to his bed, climbed upon it, and pushed himself tightly into the corner farthest away from his arguing parents.

That's where he was now; his jean-clad knees were bent tightly against his partially bare chest. The shirt he had managed to begin putting on now hung around his neck, pinned between his limbs and his body. His unruly black hair was still uncontained from last's slumber. His eyes were squeezed tightly shut, trying to block out the visions that were coming to his imagination, fueled by the sounds carrying up the stairs.

Sirius knew his mother was a violent person. He often wondered why his father put up with her. The only reason Sirius did was because she was his mother, however unfortunate that was.

Unfortunate . . .

He was only seven, but he was already feeling the pressure from his mother to live up to the Black family name. He knew the Black reputation--both among Muggles and wizard-folk alike. It wasn't a pleasant one, but it was understandable; if you weren't pureblood, the Blacks scorned you. Muggles, they just hated them.

If his mother ever found out that Sirius had befriended Muggle children, she'd probably kill him. She did a lot of things without thinking. She was a reactor, plain and simple. Whether or not she regretted anything, Sirius doubted it. Many times after an argument, he'd seen her come across the object she'd broken. She'd stare at if or a few seconds before saying with a nonchalant shrug, "It was going to break with time, anyway." Afterwards, she'd walk away without a backwards glance.

A tugging on his pants caused Sirius to resurface from his thoughts. Glancing to his side, he spotted his younger brother standing next to the bed. The sight made his insides clinch.

Regulus Black stared up at Sirius with giant grey eyes, fat tears rolling down his cheeks. His looks were similar to Sirius's. They both shared the same eye color, same unkempt hairstyle. Their only physical difference was in height; of course, this was because of an age difference. As far as their personalities went, they were as different as a desert is from a rainforest.

Regulus was too young to understand what was going on, Sirius knew. He, himself, didn't fully understand until recently. Every Saturday morning, his brother came to him like this; every Saturday morning, Sirius's heart broke at the sight of blatant pain.

He may be considered weak for caring "too much," as his father would have said, and he may be a little foolish for feeling something for this evil-spirited version of their mother, but Sirius didn't care. Pulling his hands away from his head and allowing his legs to slide away from his chest, he motioned for the young child to join him on his bed. Regulus sniffed before he climbed onto the mattress. He launched himself at Sirius's side and continued to cry. Sirius wrapped his arm around his brother, offering comfort Sirius wish he could feel himself.

The only downfall to comforting Regulus was that he could now hear his parents' argument quite clearly, and it was a major downfall, that. They were down in the "Family Room"--Sirius scoffed at the name--where they always held these scenes. Some "family" they were, using the room designated for family activities to exercise their vocal chords. And, now that Sirius thought about it, that was the room's only purpose.

"I ought to kill you, you bleeding lout!" Walburga Black, Sirius's mother, screamed. Sirius imagined her waving a wand in her husband's face, her sagging little body following her arm's movement. She was mad enough to perform the Killing Curse successfully, if the tone of her voice was anything to judge by.

Walburga was a short woman who was once a beauty. However, time and her constant anger drove away the youth she used to flaunt. Her face was now a sea of wrinkles, her body retaining some weight from her two pregnancies. No one would call her hideous, for her beauty wasn't completely lost. She just wasn't as attractive or warm as she once had been. Her steely grey eyes were now as cold as the surface of a mirror; her hair was showing signs of greying to match her eyes. It was apparent she despised her current looks, but that only added to her constant anger.

"If you kill me with that thing, it'll be swift," Orion Black, Sirius's father, shouted back. His voice sounded more under control, but he was still incensed.

Orion was a meaty man, but he wasn't obese. Most of his weight came from muscle acquired to be intimidating. It worked; many men feared to cross him. He was a strong man, a tough man, who had passed down his scruffy hair to his children. However, his was manageable. At the moment, most of it was combed down flat, as was the current fashion with sporadic strands sticking up at odd angles. This is what happened when his parents fought, though. His eyes were green, a cold shade of green. Both of Sirius's parents were frigid, unyielding people. It was part of the reason he hated living there so much.

"What pleasure would there be in that?" Orion taunted. "If you want to kill me, do it with your bare hands!"

"Don't tempt me!" There was another crash, followed by Walburga's callous, triumphant laugh. "I hope that leaves a mark, you lousy good-for-nothing!" Sirius felt Regulus flinch against him.

"Barely a scratch, you snarling hag!" Sirius never understood why they insisted on calling each other the same names week after week. He kept thinking that maybe for once, maybe this week, they'd shout some new words. Fruitless thoughts, those were.

"Oh, I'll give you 'a scratch,' you arrogant jackass!"

"Are you going to curse me?" Orion asked in a mocking voice. She always threatened to curse him; Sirius had almost lost hope that she ever would. "Should I try to stop you this time?"

"I'd like to see you try!"

"Would you?" Sirius figured they both had wands trained at one another by now. "What are you waiting for, you coarse pig?"

Sirius heard his mother's gasp as loud as he'd heard the crashing of furniture. The one thing that set her off was to be called a pig. You could call her anything--most of the words Sirius couldn't remember nor dared to repeat--and she'd be glad to prove how wrong or right you were. The problem with the word "pig" was a very simple one: Walburga was a vain woman.

When she had gotten pregnant with Sirius, she had gained more weight than her doctor said she would. Out of her siblings, she was the first to conceive. So, of course, they saw her vulnerability and took the moment for what it was worth. In fact, they seemed quite excited to inflict pain onto the one sister they could never touch. At least, that was the story that was hinted at every time the family got together.

"You filthy bastard!" Walburga's voice was loud enough to rattle the window in Sirius's room. "I don't know why I ever married you!"

"I've been wondering the same thing about myself. The fact that our thoughts are coinciding is disturbing. Now," Orion's voice became firmer, more impatient; "are you going to curse me or not?"

Walburga's growl was fierce enough to force a shudder out of Sirius. Regulus, who was now crying silently, pushed closer to his older brother. The argument was almost over, Sirius knew, but it would continue later that night. The completion of this one would only be the ending of act one.

"Ca--" Walburga tried to shout, but was prevented by her husband's shout.

"Expelliarmus!" A momentary silence engulfed the house. If Sirius listened closely, he could hear his mother's shocked, heavy breathing. She would leave now, now that she had nothing to threaten with. She could attempt to punch or two, but everyone knew that it wouldn't be long until Orion had her pinned. It would have been an idiotic move, and Walburga wasn't a stupid person.

"You give that back, you bloody slug!" she shouted, finally breaking the silence.

"And let you use it to cause me more harm?" Orion let out a hollow laugh. "Not bloody likely." He was calm, Sirius realized. He always was once he got the upper hand.

Walburga gasped, "You provoked me on purpose!"

"Damn right, I did!" Someone slapped a hand on the short table, sending a reverberating thud! throughout the house. More likely, it was probably Walburga dropping the table after she had tried to pick it up to throw at her husband's head. "I do the same thing every blasted week! Why haven't you come to expect it, woman?"

"One day, I'll show you," she told him quietly. "One day, I'll best you! I'll give you an injury--"

"You've already injured me many times, or is your memory that poor?"

"One day, you'll see!" Walburga yelled, apparently ignoring her husband's comment.

"That day is not today, however. And, forgive me for not immediately balking at your threat. To use your own words, 'I'd like to see you try!'"

"I hate you!" Sirius hated those words; he heard them too often.

"Madam, you are free to hate me all you want. At the end of the day, it still comes down to the basic facts: you're my wife, I bring in the money, I control--" A door slam cut off his tirade.

It was over. This part of the argument was done! Of course, they'd continue it later on, but this part was the loudest and roughest. They wouldn't apologize; they never did. The world would probably stop spinning if the words "I'm sorry" ever slipped out of their mouths. However, they'd come to some kind of agreement. They never argued during the week; only on Saturday. Cursed Saturdays.

A heavy silence fell upon Sirius following Walburga's exit. He was almost afraid to move; afraid that if he did the sky would open up and send a lightning bolt down to strike him dead. That's how thick the silent tension was in this house. He wanted to run down the stairs and see which objects had been destroyed, which ones would be replaced in time for next week's fight. Sometimes Sirius wondered if his father did it for his own amusement.

Walburga started the fights for her own amusement, Sirius had learned that much. She hated her husband for his recent popularity. He was easily accepted into Walburga's family whereas she had to fight for her name amongst the people she was raised with. The arguments had no real meaning beyond allowing her to let off some pent-up rage.

"No more yelling?" Regulus's voice penetrated Sirius's thoughts. Glancing down, his brother had sat up and was staring at his older brother, the harshness returning to his face. Now that the fear was gone, Regulus would return to normal . . . leaving drama in his wake. He was his mother's son; no one could deny that.

"No more yelling, Reg," Sirius sighed.

"Mama!" Regulus yelled at the top of his lungs as he jumped down from the bed. Sirius tried to stop him, but the boy was already through the doorway (which he had left opened when he first came in) by the time Sirius's feet had touched the ground.

Groaning, Sirius ran after him. His father wouldn't be in a happy mood, and he was almost as impulsive as his Walburga when he was angry. And, Regulus would wail for his mother. It had always been a thorn in their father's side that one son preferred their mother while the other didn't favor either of them. They had a lot in common for a couple who argued as much as they did.

"Mama!" Regulus shouted as he jumped off the bottom stair of the staircase leading down from the second floor. Sirius was about halfway down when Regulus attacked their father, who was sitting on the couch mending his wounds.

"Where's Mama? I want Mama!"

"Gone, you little brat," Sirius heard Orion grumble as Sirius sidled up next to the couch. "She'll be back later," Orion stated in a louder tone, "so quit your whining."

Young Regulus didn't heed the warning in his father's voice; he never did. Instead, he flung himself onto the ground and proceeded to throw a temper-tantrum. His wailing could rival his mother's screaming.

Orion, unable to take the piercing noise any longer, stood up. Before he could take a step, however, he winced and touched the side of his head. He drew his hand into his vision and muttered an expletive. Returning his hand to the side of his head, he started towards his study.

Sirius had seen his father's action and was immediately concerned. He wasn't sure what had happened, nor did he understand why he cared, but he was curious by nature. Drawing his eyebrows together, he stared at his father's retreating form.

Just before Orion reached the study room door, Sirius said, "Father?"

Orion turned and glared at his oldest son. His hand came away from his head during his reaction. Realizing what he had done, he quickly returned his hand to his head, his glare becoming fiercer.

It hadn't been quick enough. Sirius had seen what he was hiding. Blood. In the midst of her anger, Walburga had managed to injure her husband. She was truly out of control, and Sirius feared she'd only get worse.

"Don't even question it, boy. I'm in no mood to answer them," he growled. With that, Orion turned around and finished his journey to his study. Just as he reached the door, his right foot came out from under him. He caught himself against the door with both hands, cursing whatever bet fate was losing. He opened the door and slammed it roughly behind him after he had entered.

Sirius stared at the door his father had just closed. A faint handprint shined in the light. Again, Sirius was reminded of what he had seen. Blood. It was a very powerful substance.

Glancing at the ground, Sirius spied what his father had slipped on. The photograph was lying in the middle of his mother's favorite fur rug, the glossy side facing down. It appeared that his mother didn't even have to be physically near to cause Orion harm and pain.

Sirius walked to the rug and picked up the photo. It was a picture of their immediate family, a recent one. Orion stood at one end of the photograph with his arms crossed over his chest and his body turned away from the rest of photo inhabitants. His eyes kept darting between glaring at his family and staring straight ahead.

On the other side of the photograph stood Walburga. She was holding her wand menacingly and was also glaring. Clinging to her left leg, young Regulus was crying his head off. His mother was absently patting his head in attempts to calm him down. Sirius was completely absent from the photo, just as he'd like to be from this house. He didn't blame his photo-self one bit for disappearing.

With his younger brother screaming behind him and his father quietly grumbling behind the door in front of him, Sirius couldn't help but laugh at the accuracy the photo had. Too bad it couldn't be preserved, however. This was a precise representation of his family.

"Shut that boy up, now!" Orion bellowed suddenly. Sirius grinned. Precise representation, all right.

Especially on Saturday.

-Fin-

Please R/R.