The Black family were not affectionate people. Sirius couldn't remember the last time his parents had said anything to or about him that was remotely positive, and they'd never hugged him. Sirius only needed one hand to count the number of people in his life who'd hugged him, and three of them were the other marauders. The four boys hugged on occasion, usually when they were separating or had just reunited after the holidays, but more often than not they hung off of each other like leeches, throwing their arms over the others' shoulders, stealing warmth and affection. They also ruffled each others' hair, elbowed each others' ribs, swatted each other on the back of the head, poked, prodded, and other sorts of brotherly affection Sirius craved. Being an older brother, those acts of affection had come instinctively as he expressed them towards Regalus. He'd never expected to receive such affection himself though, and it had taken longer than he would have thought to get used to it. Now he loved it, but they were not hugs. Hugs were different, and Sirius was still not overly comfortable with those. It wasn't his fault though; he just wasn't used to it. He'd barely had the chance to get used to it.
The first time he'd been hugged was when he was seven years old. His cousins had been over when he decided he wanted to try sliding down the stair rail on his feet. He'd failed miserably (as would any seven year old trying to surf down a banister), and he'd crashed rather violently onto one of the small hall tables, shattering it and an old vase that had been sitting upon it. Though both were easily restored with a wave of his mother's wand, she'd been furious. As punishment, she decided to screech at him a bit and refuse any magical healing. He was to heal the natural way. Luckily nothing had been broken. He'd just been rather bruised, though there had been a few cuts from both the splintered table and the shattered vase. Andromeda had volunteered to get him cleaned up and they'd gone up to his room with a few supplies. She did a good job; only one scar remained after the years—an inch long line above his right hip. It had stung like hell and she apologized repeatedly as she cleaned it up, but with seven year old boy bravado, Sirius had bravely shrugged and said. "Nah, I got off easy."
Andromeda had given him a shrewd look that he hadn't expected, and when she spoke it was hesitant. "Sirius . . . you do know this isn't normal, don't you?"
Sirius had frowned and nodded, because his mother had told him the same thing many times. He was a bad Black and he needed to learn how to behave because he was a dishonor to their family. Only thing was, he didn't particularly care if he was a dishonor or whatever. Not being a dishonor seemed to be far too much work.
Andromeda surprised him by shaking her head, "No, not you. Them. They're the ones not normal."
"What do you mean?" Sirius asked, confused.
"Normal families love each other," she said firmly. "They care about each other. Not just as an heir, or as a representation of the family name. They care because of who they are. A proper mother would have fussed at you, yeah, but because what you did was dangerous, and you could have seriously hurt yourself. Then she would have patched you up, made you promise to never do it again, then make you some tea or cocoa or something."
Sirius' skepticism must have shown on his face, because abruptly Andromeda got on her knees and wrapped her arms around his shoulders. Sirius didn't understand the sudden desperation in his chest, but it made him bury his face in her shoulder, wrap his arms around her waist, and not let go. Andromeda's arms tightened around him, and even though she was already in her fourth year of Hogwarts, she'd also been raised a Black and was hardly more used to the open display of affection than he was. Still, both needed the simple, caring hug, and it was several minutes before they let go.
Andromeda's hands lingered on Sirius' shoulders for a moment as she spoke softly, "That's what family is supposed to do when you're hurt."
"But not our family," Sirius said, the question only barely there.
Andromeda shook her head and replied solemnly, "Not our family. But other families do. That's important, Sirius. It's important that you know that."
Sirius nodded, because it was important. Up until that point, Sirius thought all families in the world were like theirs, and knowing most families weren't changed things. Because then, Sirius inevitably began to wonder why. Why were they so different?
This was a pivotal moment in Sirius' life, because when his Uncle Alphard a year later told him that it was the family in the wrong, and not the rest of the world, Sirius was already ready to believe it.
After his conversation with Andromeda, they started to show each other more affection. Nothing major, as they were still both Blacks and they had scowls from disapproving parents to remind them of that, but she'd put her hand on his shoulder or ruffle his hair, and he'd playfully bump into her side. They also managed to get quick hugs in here or there, and they were like a balm to his soul. Sirius basked in the simple affection from a family member he knew actually cared for him. Sirius held onto her words and when things with his family were bad, it was somehow better knowing that most families out there weren't like his, even if it did seem like a far away dream.
Though Sirius held onto her words, it wasn't until he was eleven and standing on the platform before the Hogwarts Express that he really saw it for himself. Everywhere, loving families were hugging and kissing each other goodbye. It might as well have been a fairy wonderland for all the awe and excitement Sirius felt. He couldn't get enough. He wanted to see more. He wanted to talk to the other kids. He wanted to know what it was like to be in a normal family, muggleborn or not.
His own father had simply squeezed Sirius' shoulder, more of a threat than anything else, and said, "We expect you to honor the family name."
He'd had very little patience for his parents then when there was so much to see and experience, so he'd nodded quickly grabbed his trunk and hurried away. Turns out getting into Gryffindor wasn't honoring the family name. He supposed he should have gotten clarification on that beforehand. Oh well.
Over the course of that year at Hogwarts he had been on the receiving end of hugs from James Potter, Remus Lupin, and Peter Pettigrew at least once. These were both nice and disconcerting as it wasn't something Sirius was particularly used to. A year of rooming with James Potter went a long way in acclimating him to physical affection. After all, out of everyone, his family were the most affectionate.
As such, it wasn't until he'd been invited to stay with the Potters in the summer before their second year that Sirius ever experienced a real, honest to goodness, mother's hug. Sirius had never met the Potters before, and he was surprisingly nervous. For the first time in a long time he actually cared what adults thought of him. He wanted James' parents to like him, and that was a lot of pressure for a twelve year old from a very not normal family. Sirius had actually felt rather sick from the nerves, but all of that vanished the moment he met Dorea Potter. She smiled an angelic smile and told him she was so happy to have him over and that she was glad James had such a good friend. Then she pulled him into the warmest, gentlest hug he'd ever experienced. For the first time, Sirius felt loved, and he never wanted that feeling to go away.
That first visit, everything about the Potters had amazed him. When he and James got into trouble, they were given a good scolding, but there was never any malice or scorn in the words. Sirius had flinched, expecting his mother's screeches, but they hadn't come. The home was bright and happy. Dorea and Charlus Potter lovingly and playfully teased their son and each other. No one snapped, no one shouted. Even the bloody house elf was happy. And when he and James climbed into bed at night, Dorea came in and kissed them on the forehead. Sirius had blinked in confusion every night, but he'd been too embarrassed to ask James why she did it. He hated admitting a lack of knowledge about anything—the infamous Black pride, he supposed. As he got older, he realized that it didn't really have any special meaning other than the fact that Dorea Potter was a decent human being who loved and spoiled her son.
She hugged Sirius again when he scraped his leg playing quidditch with James (after she'd healed him of course), and she hugged him again as Mr. Potter prepared to take him back home. That time Sirius hugged her back and desperately wished he didn't have to go. She must have sensed it, because she'd rubbed his back comfortingly and told him seriously that he was welcome any time.
To this day Sirius still believed a hug from Dorea Potter could heal the dying. No one and nothing would ever convince him otherwise. He coveted those hugs viciously, and he didn't care how much James teased him, when Mrs. Potter hugged him and showered him with affection, Sirius hugged her back. When she straightened his collar, he let her. When she kissed or patted his cheek or smoothed down his hair, he stood their proudly and grinned. James always tried to dance away and ruffle his hair back up. Not Sirius. He would stand their and greedily soak up each and every ounce of affection offered to him, just like the dog he was. James made plenty of cracks about it, but Sirius didn't care; a hug from Dorea Potter was worth any amount of teasing.
There were times, usually late at night as he lay in his bed in Grimmauld Place, that Sirius reflected on the differences between his parents and the Potters. How was it that James was so blessed with his family while Sirius was so cursed? What had he done to deserve his parents? What would it have been like to grow up with the Potters and have a happy childhood with happy Christmases instead of ones he truly dreaded? How was it fair, and why couldn't he have been born to the Potters instead of the Blacks?
But, while he would have definitely thrived in the home of the Potters, James wouldn't have survived a childhood in the Black house. James was too soft. He lacked all of the sharp edges Sirius seemed to have been born with. James was good, and that would have been choked out of him before his fifth birthday, just like it had been choked out of Sirius. James being just like him, now that'd be truly tragic. Even if he had the option, Sirius wouldn't sacrifice the James they had now for a happy childhood, even if it was with the Potters. And he hoped, really hoped, that that meant not all the good had been squashed out of him; that there was still hope for him. He wanted to believe that so badly. But then he thought of the stunt he'd pulled with Snape and the Whomping Willow and he knew better. No matter what he said, no matter what he did, when it came down to it, he was still a bloody Black. Nothing, not even the marauders could change that.
Filled with sudden disgust he snapped his potions book shut. James looked up at him, relief flooding his face at the prospect of taking a break from homework. Remus snapped his book shut with a little more force, frustration evident in every aspect of his expression. He hated potions more than the lot of them, and Sirius could tell their homework had his temper rising.
"You hungry, mates?" James asked hopefully, like he somehow thought they'd refuse the chance to get away from their homework or something. Daft git.
"Hell yes," Sirius declared, shoving all thoughts of his family out of his mind.
"If it gets me away from this stupid shite, then I'm bloody starving," Moony practically growled, making Sirius and James grin. They loved seeing Remus skive off on homework. It was rare, but always such a treat.
Peter just nodded vigorously, shutting his book as well. His hair was a bit wild, and Sirius supposed he'd been rather desperately running his hands through it as he struggled through the homework. Sirius hadn't exactly been paying attention.
"Alright then," James declared, pleased. "Let's go get some food."
"Maybe we should also sneak out to Honeydukes and pick up Moony some more chocolate. It might do all of us good," Sirius spoke in amusement.
Moony sent him a glare, "Shut it, Pads, or you'll really wish I had chocolate."
Sirius grinned and draped his arm around Moony's shoulder, reveling in the affection as James playfully shoved both of them. "Come now, Moony. You know you'd miss me too much if you killed me."
Remus elbowed him in the side, but not too hard—definitely not hard enough to shove him off, and that spoke volumes. "Who said anything about killing, Padfoot? I was simply thinking pain. Lots of it."
James laughed and Sirius grinned. He was still a Black, but they weren't his family. James, Remus, and Peter were his family, and if they could accept him then Sirius could live with himself as well. There was no point in thinking about the what-ifs, and mistakes he wished he hadn't made. This, this right here was enough for him, and probably more than he deserved.