Well, it's certainly been a while since I've written anything to do with Harry Potter. A very long time... But I'm glad I did. I've missed it.
Which is why this can only be dedicated to one person. This has to be for Japanime1, whose frequent updates on her two stories (read them if you haven't. After reading this, of course) inspired me to start writing Harry Potter fanfiction again. She also inspired me to write something longer than a oneshot.
So who else could this be for, after all?
I'm not entirely sure where the idea came from. All I know is that I'm glad I've started it. The story probably won't be all that long. Maybe around four to five chapters, and those chapters will probably be around the length of this one.
Enjoy!
It was ten o' clock at night, and sixteen-year-old Sirius Black was sitting in the lounge, staring blankly at the clock, his eyes unconsciously following the seconds' hand, which was moving slowly, too slowly for his liking. He had been at his parents' house for only two weeks of the school holidays, and he was already counting the days until the term started again, until he could go home, back to Hogwarts, back to his fellow Marauders.
"Sirius Orion Black!" The sudden high-pitched shriek came from upstairs and Sirius, after jumping a little, rolled his grey eyes as he slowly stood up from his lounging position on the couch.
Never mind the days. He was counting the hours.
"Sirius!"
"I'm coming, mother." His tone was weary, monotonous. He climbed the stairs, his name being screamed again as he did so, and he walked to his bedroom, stopping in the doorway and leaning against the door frame, crossing his arms over his chest. He elegantly raised a black eyebrow. "Yes? And may I ask what you're doing in my room?"
His mother was standing in the middle of the floor, clutching a sheaf of papers so hard that they were crumpling at the edges. In normal circumstances – if there ever was anything 'normal' in the Black household, Sirius reflected bitterly – she would have been looking in disgust at the red and gold colour scheme decorating the walls, floor, and even the ceiling, but she wasn't even bothering to do that.
"What am Idoing?" she was saying. "What am I doing?" Her voice was steadily growing louder. She waved the papers almost manically, one of them falling out of her grasp at the movement and drifting to the floor. "What are you doing, writing to a... to a P-potter?"
Sirius simply stared at her. "You went through my letters?" His voice was disbelieving.
"Something I should have done a long time ago, apparently! You will cease your... your relationship with this boy at once!"
"No." The word came to his lips so easily, defending his friendship was so natural. He and James had had to do it during the early Hogwarts days, even a little bit during the later terms, and Sirius had no problem doing it at his mother's house as well.
"What do you mean, no?"
"I mean no, mother." Sirius met his mother's eyes defiantly. He knew that this would irritate her, but they had been through this before – he also knew that, as long as he gave the right responses when they were demanded, the confrontation would soon be over.
He knew this because it happened every year when he came back for the holidays. If you could call this a holiday! It was a good thing that the Potters always invited him to their house for the Christmas holidays without fail, otherwise he'd have to go through this twice a year.
Of course, he did tell her each and every year that yes, he would stop being friends with James, and she left it at that. During the term, however, she always heard from someone, probably Bellatrix, who, even though she had left Hogwarts already, still had Slytherins writing to her with the latest gossip, that Sirius and James were still going around Hogwarts together and, during the summer holidays, his mother would confront him about it and the argument would begin all over again.
They had been through it seven times now. It had happened twice during both his first- and second-term holidays.
She had never actually gone through his mail before, though.
Right now, she was giving Sirius the well rehearsed evil eye. "'No' is not an answer I will accept, Sirius."
He stared boldly at her. There was no way on Earth that he was going to let her intimidate him. "It's the only one you're getting, mother."
She took two steps forward. "The Potters" - she spat the word - "are not acceptable acquaintances, let alone... friends." Judging by her facial expression, it hurt to say the last word. "You told me you had stopped this nonsense, Sirius."
He shrugged his shoulders deliberately. "Well, it started up again."
"The Potters are blood traitors, Sirius! They're no better than Mudbloods!"
Now it was Sirius's turn to step forward, his eyes flashing. "Do not use that word around me, mother. Ever. And the Potters are a better family than the Blacks will ever be."
She stared at him for a moment, then laughed, cruelly and shrilly. "The Potters are nothing but a bunch of low down, up themselves, Mudblood-loving -"
But she wasn't allowed to finish her sentence. Sirius had stepped forward again and interrupted her with a hissed, "Stop saying that."
"It is what they are, Sirius! Why can't you see that?" She looked at him as if trying to find an answer to her question before speaking again. "What has that school done to you?" Her voice had suddenly become quiet.
"It's not the school." Sirius's voice, too, had dropped in volume. "It's who I am, mother."
"It's not, Sirius." His mother was no longer shrill and hysterical. Within a blink of an eye she had changed her demeanour – she now sounded calm and dignified. "You are a Black. You're not a Potter nor anything else so vulgar." When she saw him roll his eyes, she added, "Count yourself lucky."
"Lucky? For what? To be part of a manic, dark magic-worshipping family? I think I'd rather be a Potter." He eyed her carefully as her expression darkened, and, taking a risk, added slowly, "In fact, I even think I'd rather be a Muggle."
His words were rewarded a second later when he was slapped across the face.
He and his mother stared at one another, their grey eyes so similar, for a moment or two before Sirius turned on his heel and strode out, trying to control his breathing. He hurried down the stairs and, grabbing his leather jacket, all but ran out the front door.
It was only three blocks later that he slowed to a walk, just as rain started to fall. Oh, this was exactly what he needed. He suddenly realised he was clenching his fists and slowly unfurled them, noticing nail marks indented into the palm of his hand. How long had he been clenching them for? Ever since the argument started?
What had made him snap like that anyway? he asked himself as he flipped the collar of his jacket up, trying to prevent the cold rain from falling down his neck. It wasn't as if his mother had never slapped him before. It wasn't a habit, but it happened frequently enough. So why had this one specific time been special?.
But maybe it hadn't been the slap. Maybe it had just been the argument full stop. He had been more irritable than usual lately, sick of putting up with their Pureblood mania, and maybe the slap had just been the final straw.
Maybe he was sick of giving the right responses.
But, right now, the 'why' wasn't incredibly important. The important thing was what he was going to do next. Going back definitely wasn't an option; neither was sleeping on the streets, especially with the rain that was coming down even harder now.
Merlin! And all this was because of a few bloody letters which he hadn't hidden properly!
Sirius stopped in his tracks. The letters! Of course – Prongs! He'd let Sirius camp out at his place for however long it took for him to work things out. He knew exactly where the Potters lived, and he guessed he could probably get there easily enough.;
So, which way was the... what was it called? Subway? But wasn't that a Muggle cake shop?
Well, what did you think? I'm quite proud of it, but maybe that's because I'm the author. I should have the next chapter up soon. I'd love to know what you guys think.
Cooroo