A/N: I have no really idea where this is heading, but I know it will go through some of his childhood and some of his time at Hogwarts. He is writing this in his seventh year, after Remus suggests it to him.
I don't know if anyone will actually read this or care to read more but... Updates, if I update, will be sporadic due to the fact that I am about to start college.
When I was seven years old, my little brother died. And while I missed my playmate and ally against my parents, the question for my parents was how do you get over the death of a child? How do you get over the death of your son, your favorite son? Even at that age, I knew. My brother was their favorite. He was the expected son, the obedient son. Their perfect child, who was easily melded to be just like them, while I… Well, I was, in truth, very little like my parents. I blame it on the fact that they let tutors and nanny house elves raise me and that I only started seeing them when my little brother became old enough to want to spend all his time with me. They just blame it on me.
There was never any affection lost between me and my parents after that. Don't get me wrong. In some slight, strained, odd way, I did love my parents. But it's hard to love the people that become both your tormentors and your jailers. And it's impossible to love anyone who hurts you as much as my mother's "punishments" and my father's ignoring me did. The only reason I felt enough affection for my father to go to his funeral when he died was because he was the one that finally helped me get out of that prison. Not that that's saying much, mind, since it was guilt that drove him to do anything at all.
But before I start going willy-nilly all over the place, I'll clarify a few things, for Remus' benefit, as I'm writing this to eventually give to him. And yes, I know my grammar will give him a conniption, and he'll probably write corrections in the margins, since he won't want to write on what I've worked so hard over. He better not, anyways. …Just joking, Moons!
I suppose the best place to start would be the first time I- No, no. I think I'll start with Reg's accident. That's what started this all; I think.
Regulus' accident happened when I was seven, like I said before. Well, wrote. Whatever! Don't make me get technical here! It was your idea for me to write this because it would be "therapeutic". Ugh. I'm arguing with Remus, when he's not here. How stupid am I? Ah! Don't answer that, if I'm around when you read this, Remmy. But, back to the accident. It wasn't anything fantastic or special, really. It was a rainy Saturday afternoon, and Regulus and I had just completed our lessons. Well, maybe I did his for him. But how in the world is a five-year-old supposed to understand enough about the basic concept of arithmancy to write a six inches of parchment on it? Honestly, it was just a sign they loved Reg more, wanted him to succeed more than they wanted me to, but at the time I was glad I hadn't had to do it until I was six.
However, since it was raining, we were not allowed to go outside, or too close to a window, after the time I opened all the windows in our library to try to cool the room down. It wasn't my fault it was too hot to focus on the book I actually wanted to read, and I didn't know it was going to rain that night and ruin the library. No jokes about me actually reading, Moony! I actually do really like to read, depending on the subject matter. Anyways, since we couldn't go outside or open windows or go near windows and we didn't want to read after just coming from lessons, we were racing around the upper part of our house.
While we were running up and down the stairs and down the hallway, along with occasionally being scolded for running indoors by our nanny-elf, I never thought of the fact that my brother's shorter legs would not be able to keep up while we ran up the stairs. In an attempt to catch up with me, he tried to jump three steps at once. He didn't make the jump, and as I reached the top landing, Regulus fell, unable to hold onto anything. By the time I knew he was falling, he was two seconds away from the floor, and no two seconds has ever felt longer in my entire life. He hit the ground as I hurried to try and grab him, but he had fallen three fairly tall flights of stairs, and… Well, it wasn't a nice sight at the bottom. The only comfort any of us had was that he died at the impact, and he felt little to no pain.
I don't remember much else of that day, except worry and wondering what exactly had happened to Regulus. He was hurt, I knew, but my little brother couldn't die. He was a Black, and Blacks don't die from silly things like falling down stairs. It wasn't until the next morning when my tutor came in to tell me that he had been relieved of his post and that he was sorry about my brother, that I started to realize the gravity of what had happened yesterday.
A kind, brunette man came into the room used for lessons when we had no need of the library. "Sirius?" I had been staring off out the window, wondering if I could convince Mister Achenleck to go outside for today's lesson when he came in. "Hi!" My cheerful greeting was in hopes of going outside, since the rain had dried up over night, and my mood was boosted by the relief of seeing someone familiar, as my usual house elves hadn't attended to me this morning. I had actually been forced to pick out clothes for myself, which resulted in a comfy muggle T-shirt my parents didn't know I had, a pair of slacks, which were the only pants I owned besides pajamas, and mismatched socks with no shoes.
"Sirius, I… I know you've been through so many tutors, and I know you were hoping I would stay until you had to leave for Hogwarts, but… Your parents let me go this morning." As my face fell, he continued. "And… I'm sorry. You're a good kid; you don't deserve all this." I had no idea what he was talking about, but I nodded anyways, though I still wanted to grab onto his legs and not let him go. If I didn't let go, he couldn't leave, even if cling like that was below my station. I wouldn't have cared at that point, desperate to stop the tutor that had lasted the longest out of any my brother and I had from fleeing Grimmauld Place and never looking back. Because that was what they all did, after my parents let them go. They left and never returned or ever owled me, taking away what stability I had and what trust I had in adults bit by bit. "I'm sorry. About your brother, I mean. And… Everything else, I guess." Mr. Achenleck had never been this awkward with his words before, and it left me confused. However, he said something about my brother, so he had to know what happened!
"What happened to Reg? I haven't seen him this morning. Is something wrong? I know he fell down the stairs, but he's okay, right?" My face showed the most concern a seven year old could muster. "You don't know?" My tutor paused for a moment before he knelt down to look me in the eye. "Sirius, your brother… Your brother is… He's dead, Sirius. He fell down two flights of stairs, and he broke his neck on impact. Didn't you… see his accident?"
This question was phrased carefully, and I wondered if he meant it in the way my parents do when they phrase things carefully, which usually means I'm in trouble. But, Regulus… Regulus, my little brother, Reggie, Reg, …Was dead. There was no way. My little brother couldn't be dead, who would play with me, even if he did often pester me and could be a bore? There was no one but the muggles next door that Mother wouldn't let me near. No, no. Regulus wasn't dead. There was no way!
"Reg can't be dead! He can't be! Reg can't die." My insistence left my tutor unphased.
"Sirius, you saw his accident." Now my beloved tutor's voice was almost accusing. "You were right there. You know he couldn't survive that."
"Yes but-!"
"I have to go before your parents come to talk to you." Mr. Achenleck left without a second glance at me, while I was left standing there, absolutely confused. My parents were... coming to talk to me? Why did they want to talk to me? And why did Mr. Achenleck seem mad at me?