A short little oneshot I started a while back and finished tonight. I write when I'm stressed out, and exams defiantly qualify as stress. Lemme know what you think, it's slightly depressing, but some things in life just are, so there. This one oddly is lacking Remus, I don't know why, but he's MIA for this one, sorry fans, I feel bad for not writing him in too.
The song is called: Something in the way it's a classic Nirvana song and I don't own it obviously, or profit in any way using it.
Disclaimer: I don't own anything Potter, I'm not and will never be J.K Rowling and I don't own any of her characters or story boards, I just borrow them sometimes to not profit, cause I'm weird like that.
No. Nothing had gone right that day. Not a single thing. His cat had barfed all over the floor at least seven times. Meaning he had to rub stuff not fit for even a cat's stomach out of the stinking, raggedy, carpet. Fuck, it just hadn't been right.
No, nothing had been that holiday; it was December, three days until Christmas and he was stuck in a God forsaken apartment; alone. He didn't have enough money to pay rent, much less buy food, and he was stuck with a landlord that had to have a heart smaller than the Grinch himself. He had finally decided to tell his mother what he thought of her and her 'Most Noble House of Black' also known as the heartless, in-bred, blood obsessed pieces of shit, who's noses were so damned high in the air that their brains were now swimming in their 'Oh so noble' mucus.
Ok so maybe he hadn't said that in so many words, but it had been far more insulting when he had said it. He just couldn't remember because at that point his mother had hit him in the head with one of those damned house-elf heads. At which point, he grabbed what he could and got the hell out of there. Serenaded by the sounds of her shouting and his name being burnt off the family tapestry to match his uncles.
Normally he would have gone straight back to James's house. This time he couldn't, no even Prongs wouldn't except this proud exile of the 'Noble House of Black.' Why? They were in the middle of an argument. Not just any argument. He had almost killed someone that September, he hadn't meant for it to go so far, but apparently James couldn't get that through his thick hair and then through his even thicker skull.
Sirius sat alone in the unfurnished apartment, staring out into the soggy, gray, streets of London. It was an un-usually warm December in London and instead of clumps of white fluffy water, warm gray rain was pouring onto the poor London slum; seemingly reflecting Sirius's mood. He felt the ginger mass of puking fur rub up against his side and placed a cold hand on the cat's back. It had come with the apartment, apparently the woman that had lived there last had passed away and the cat refused to leave.
It seemed the cat wasn't the only one left behind. Sirius was alone in the world that night, his friends were gone, his family, which had never had his back in the first place was gone, good riddance, and his home, Hogwarts, was miles away. He wasn't even sure if he could get back. He had no money, his parents had closed his account, no job, he didn't know shit about muggles and he couldn't use magic as his custom made wand had snapped in half as he lugged his trunk down the front stairs of Grimuald place. Yes, Sirius Black was very much alone.
So much with-in himself that he jumped when he heard a knock on the door and a key being used to open it. His landlord, a widow woman with a lust for chewing tobacco and her rifle 'Betsy' strode into the room, her eyes flaming with so much anger McGonagal would have been proud. "Where's the money?" She said in a voice so gruff it could have been male and so loud it could have come out of a bullhorn. Slowly she blew herself up to full height.
Sirius only shook his head. "Then get out of my damn apartment before I call the bleeding officers you scum." She barked. Ignoring her look of blazing contempt Sirius stood and walked out of the door. He was used to being yelled at by now, having grown up with the worst of them all. He left the building and didn't give it a second thought.
He walked out of the cover of the overhead roof and into the thick warm rain. Wondering to himself where the next logical place to go was; and then deciding he didn't care. He just kept walking, his black tee shirt and blue Muggle jeans now sopping wet. Anger he still had against his mother pushed through his calm surface and broke through his wall of stoicism, Sirius let out a cry of anger and kicked the nearest bin. Sending jolts of pain up his leg that left him gasping. He walked slowly through the small park, pondering what had finally broken his cool in the damned house and caused him to snap.
He had always been treated like a bloody failure, a blood traitor. His friends were always a large part of that and when they had been thrown into the mix it always made him more respondent to the constant verbal bashing he received when at home. His, 'mother' had called James and his family scum, not fit to even be looked at, blood traitors that felt no remorse for what they had done to their noble lineage. Not even fit to be the scum below their feet. They constantly picked at the fact he was a Gryffindor and his brother followed his heritage and became the prized and perfect Slytherin he was.
James's family had taken him in more times than his pride would care to admit. He had always been welcome on they're doorstep when he had no other place to go; or beckoned inside, no matter how much persuasion otherwise for a hot meal. Although, it didn't take him long before he learned that Mrs. Potter was the best cook this side of the Atlantic. He knew better than to refuse food from her now, it was just so good. James's family was more of a family to him than his own had ever been, and now he couldn't even go there. Not while his pride still stayed intact.
At the thought of food his anger clenched stomach grumbled. He glanced around the empty store lined streets and his eyes landed on a bakery, his mouth began to water. His hand jerked automatically to his pocket in search of a couple coins, and jerking it back out just as quickly as all he got was lint.
He swore a couple of choice words under his breath, mostly cursing his mother, but also his current situation. With a frustrated sigh he turned his back on the shops and heading in the other direction.
Slowly he realized the sky was darkening and the rain was becoming colder, a cold that went deep to his core made him shudder from the inside out, until he felt his soul had finally frozen and his heart was stone. Suddenly it wasn't so cold out and he stopped rubbing his wet arms as he legs lead him into a small park, and under the shelter of some quiet weeping willow trees.
But soon he wanted to sit. The street lamps were on now, and glowed through the gathering fog. He found his legs and they brought him to a quiet bridge with a large stream flowing placidly beneath it, Sirius settled under it, on the less damp ground and pulled his knees up against his chest. He had felt alone all his life, but this was a whole new emotion all together. He had nothing, felt nothing, and no one cared. Some how it felt good that he was still alive, and that thought alone took the chill off.
The night seemed to lag on, like it was snagged on the end of the sky and got stuck for hours. That's about the time the his heart seemed to wake from it's unusual vacation and the falling rain made the world seem dreary. For the first time in a very long time, Sirius Black formally from the 'Noble House of Black' was lonely. So lonely in fact, that it was crushing him from the inside out, and this only made the fog seem thicker and the light of the moon seem more eerie.
There was nothing more he would have liked but to close his eyes and pretend the utter sadness in his heart was just a dream, to go to sleep and wake up back at school in his 4 poster bed, the bed located between James's and Remus's; Between the only two people he trusted in a world full of liars and backstabbers. Life seemed so simple back at school, he could prank and learn and fill his life with things that mattered…
But that was the problem wasn't it, everything in his world was a fake, it was all a delusion, here, under this goddamn bridge was his reality, and even if he managed to get back to school, this was the reality waiting for him again once he graduated.
He had nothing, no money, no job and no friends that were currently talking to him or weren't running around on the English countryside naked and furry, and he wasn't talking about James either. Remus knew he hadn't meant anything by it, he also couldn't hold a grudge.
His mind suddenly drifted in between wakefulness and deep slumber and without even knowing what he was doing slipped into his Anamagus form and into a fitful sleep; filled with cold fingers down his sopping neck and the sounds of rodents scurrying around his legs.
Underneath the bridge
The tarp has sprung a leak
And the animals I've trapped
Have all become my pets
And I'm living off of grass
And the drippings from the ceiling
It's ok to eat fish
'Cause they don't have any feelings
Something in the way
His dreams were filled with flashes of James's face when he had seen what he had done, his mother screaming at him and his landlord clutching 'Betsy' in her sausage like fingers thick with aged and dyed yellow from smoking. He woke up shaking and swearing on several occasions, perspiration dotting his forehead and sending chills down his spine.
Each time he opened his eyes all he could see was dark, the horizon never changed, it just stayed black, like the night would last forever.
He woke slowly once again, still in dog form to a warm hand on his shoulder. He didn't bother opening his eyes; it must have been just another dream. Then the hand squeezed, and a soft tenor hit the loud silence of the night air. "Padfoot?" Sirius snapped his eyes open and thought he was hallucinating.
He was staring into his best friends dark brown eyes, he shifted forms again, his limbs aching and his joints popping. James moved out of the way and watched him with soft eyes, handing him a coat as he slowly sat up.
"You stubborn git, what are you doing out here?" James asked sitting beside him. "Sleeping." Sirius croaked looking away. "I could see that, but you must be freezing to death mate." James commented, even the thought of sleeping out in the night air making him colder, and he pulled the collar of his jacket up around his neck.
Sirius snorted. "Sirius you're in muggle England, and you're sleeping outside. What happened?" James asked, concern filling his eyes. "My dear mother closed my account, broke my wand on the bloody stairs." Sirius stated. James nodded and both teens sat in silence.
"James?" Sirius started.
"Yeah?"
"I'm sorry…"
"I know mate. I know."
Sirius sighed, "I didn't mean to…" James cut him off, "I know you didn't, you just scared me mate, you looked like you didn't even care." James commented. A light snow began to fall over the park. Soft fluffy flakes fell over them like ashes.
" I did…" Sirius mumbled running a hand through his sopping hair. "I know now, or you would have tried to defend yourself." James stated with a wry smile. "I did enough of that back home." Sirius stated bitterly.
They got eye contact. "You look bad mate." James decided, breaking out in a grin. "I, Sirius Black, also known as the great and powerful Padfoot, never look bad." Sirius stated meekly. James chuckled and got up, extending a hand to his friend.
"Liar." He stated pulling him up, Sirius attempted to look hurt. "C'mon, mum's going to have a cataract when she sees what kind of shape you're in; she probably won't stop trying to stuff you with food 'till after Christmas." James commented taking up his wand.
Just the word food made his stomach grumble, his mouth water and his spirits lift. He was going home; maybe Sirius Black had a home after all. James looked at him and pulled out a clipping from the Prophet, "You made the paper mate." He commented with a wink.
The title read: "Heir to the Black Fortune walks out from the House of Black… Forever?" And Sirius couldn't help but laugh at the picture they had chosen for the front page, his mother throwing his trunk after him, her face contorted in rage. Now that, would be good for her public, the old bint got what she wanted, the front page in the Wizard paper. What she wasn't counting on was the hate mail that came afterwards.
End.
REVIEW! Let me know what you think. Sorry for any editing errors, it's late here –glances at clock- very late. Thanks for reading all, Peace out:W-B-D