TITLE: I, Sirius
AUTHOR: Lady Sirius
PAIRING: RL/SB
RATING: NC17
FEEDBACK: Of course all rights to Harry Potter belong to JK Rowling
- I only wish that Sirius and Remus were mine, other than in my heart!
DEDICATION: To my glorious, talented, wondrous and everlastingly sexy
inspiration - Gary Oldman - and to all those fans whose enthusiasm and kind words keep me going!
I, Sirius
Reflections of the Brightest Star
Chapter I - A Star Is Born
A blank page.
A sheet of emptiness, devoid of any meaning of its own. But take quill in hand - along with a requisite amount of ink - and you have the possibility of something, rather than nothing. Letters of the alphabet, chosen at random - taken individually just so many sounds, casual phonetics. But if you put them together in certain ways patterns form, words can be discerned, and from these words emerge thoughts.
These, then, are my thoughts.
And whether anyone who reads my words - assuming, of course that there are any such unknown, unseen readers - will form any idea of who I am, what I was, and what has befallen me within the arena of what I refer to as my life, at least up until this day... well, I shall leave that to the individual to determine. I can only do what I can do. I am, after all, only human.
And wizard.
Always wizard.
Which is as good a point as any to begin. I, Sirius Orion Black, came into this world, the wizarding world to be exact, at precisely six a.m. on Saturday, March 21, 1959, at #12 Grimmauld Place, London, England. My mother, Walburga, had a schedule to keep, and even the act of giving birth to me could not deter her from her appointed rounds, while my father, Orion, awaited the news of my birth while comfortably ensconced with his cronies/hangers-on, in the downstairs parlor.
And once I made my appearance - mouth wide open and squalling, so they tell me, I was whisked at once from my parents' bedroom on the fourth floor, and brought to my own room, two floors below, where a wet nurse awaited, who had of course been hired for the occasion as Merlin forbid Walburga suckle her own child herself, and never did I see that room again. At least not for many years.
But that wasn't the only reason I was so quickly separated from the giver of my life - so callously cast aside as it were, until needed. Was I not the heir apparent, the hope and scion of the noble House of Black - they whose motto was Toujours Pur? Firstborn, eldest son, newest twig on the family tree? Did someone there possess the prescience, the clairvoyance, to sense the disappointment which ran within my veins as surely as did the blue albeit thinning blood of one of the oldest families in the wizarding world? Did the midwife who pulled me from my mother's body, to rid it of the burden of my presence, look into my eyes (once I had dared to open them, of course, not into a world of light, as one would imagine, but into a place of great darkness) and declare now is born a heretic, a disappointment, a future escutcheon on the name of Black, a blight upon this noble house?
No, of course not. That would be foreshadowing of a sort bordering on divination, and I DO NOT believe in Divination, no matter what my crackpot teachers attempted to instill in me otherwise.
But that was later, and this was then, and the truth of the matter was that I was born with a caul. Although the midwife did later swear that she caught a glimpse of a tail between my legs, giving rise to much speculation which, had they simply asked me, I could have easily dispelled. No tail, no canine foreshadowing - sorry to disappoint. Merely that which any male infant is allotted at birth - no more, no less. But the caul put them off, gave them pause, took them aback. And caused them to look at me askance, even then. A pattern often to be repeated throughout the years.
It was just the beginning of a life filled with indifference. And that I believe to be a sufficient introduction, for now.
Simply remember that I...am... Sirius...