Almond Eyes

Chapter three

The next day, Sirius woke around noon in a foul mood. After the function at Durmstrang had ended, he'd walked Andromeda to the ship before flooing to the Potters. He hadn't even seen James, though he'd stopped at his mate's room on his way to his bed, where he collapsed, dog-tired. He'd slept fitfully, convoluted dreams of heat and flickering candlelight making him toss and turn all night. It gave him a pounding headache.

He finally got up, feeling stiff and exhausted. The tiredness didn't bother him, he was used to it obviously. It was just how freaking sore he was. Dancing for almost three hours straight was definitely not one of his more brilliant plans. He felt as if Hagrid had sat on top of him. His every muscle protested the slightest move. Gritting his teeth, he pushed himself out of bed and stumbled down the hall.

Sirius pushed open James' bedroom door. James was there this time, and jumped up from his desk chair, his thin face alight with the glory of triumph. "Padfoot, she said yes!" he shouted.

Sirius paused, his jaw dropping momentarily. He immediately shut it, irritation reasserting itself rapidly. "Well, I guess this means you'll die a happy man. Prongs, because I am going to murder you!"

James blinked, confused by his outburst. "Me? What'd I do?"

"You set me up!"

"Oh," James replied, obviously just entering the conversation. "Yeah. Listen, Padfoot. I didn't think they'd make you go to that thing in my place, really. I just needed a weekend to sneak out and…" he shrugged, as if in surrender to fate. Sirius raised an eyebrow at him wordlessly, obviously waiting for more.

"So… how was it?" James asked in a pathetic attempt to make Sirius stop glaring. "Did you pull any pranks, get any girls? Was anyone there under forty?"

"Yeah, it was great. Half Slytherin house was there. Along with half my family. I was welcomed back like the prodigy I am. You'd think I never left. Hell, they were all over me. It was just like old times," Sirius spit out. He knew he was being stupid, but he was too irritated to care. His head was pounding and he hadn't had enough time to sort out the previous night, only enough to know it had been one hell of a roller coaster ride.

"Wow, mate. Sorry. I didn't know," James said, running a hand through his hair. Sirius sighed, crossing his arms and glaring at a poster on the wall. It wasn't James' fault, he tried to tell himself. His mate hadn't known what would happen.

"It's fine, James. It wasn't all bad, just a long night." The first couple hours had been, at least.

"Tell me about it," James replied, falling back on his bed and stretching out. "I didn't get home until three."

Sirius looked at him in confusion as he leaned against James' desk. "Yeah, I saw you weren't in. Where were you?"

"Lily's," James said, a goofy smile crossing his face as his eyes closed dreamily. "Her parents were gone for the weekend, so we stayed at her place. Man, can you believe I actually proposed to her?"

"She didn't start crying, did she?" Sirius asked, trying to imagine the scene. He'd known James had gotten a ring. Remus had had to go with him to the jewelers, he'd been so panicked.

"Lily? Nah. She's made of stronger stuff than that."

They sat in silence for awhile. Then James spoke again, his eyes cracking open to regard Sirius. "So… how'd your family take seeing you again? I mean, what did they say? It's been… what, three months?"

Anger pulsed hot through Sirius again, making his headache worse. He looked away from his friend, down at the floor. In a hollow voice, he replied, "I'm supposed to go pack my things. My mother disowned me."

Swearing, James jumped off the bed. His eyes wide, he demanded, "Man, are you joking?" Sirius just looked at him tiredly and James took his silence as assent. Swearing again, he paced the length of his room before turning back towards Sirius. "I'll go with you to pack your stuff."

Sirius shook his head, though he appreciated his friend's support. "Not on your life, Prongs. You don't know how to handle her when she gets like this. I'll do it."

"No way," James shot back hotly. "I'm not letting you go there alone. Don't you remember how you looked last New Years? It was that bad."

"No." There was a note of finality in Sirius's tone as he stared James down. Gray eyes locked on hazel. Finally, James relented.

"Tell me if you change your mind, all right?"

"Yeah, I'll do that. Thanks mate." Sirius said, smiling wryly.

Pushing against the desk, he hauled himself to his feet, a groan coming through clenched teeth. Merlin, he was sore. James looked at him quizzically. "You look pretty rough, Padfoot. What happened to you?"

"Nothing, Prongs."

"You look like you're about to fall over."

"I'm fine." He felt like he was going to fall over. .

"That's what you always say." Crossing the room, James grabbed his shoulder, and Sirius nearly went down. His friend steadied him as he staggered. "Look Sirius, as your best mate, it's my job to have your back. Could you help me out here a little bit?" Apparently, James seemed to think Sirius had come out worst off in a fight.

Sirius burst out laughing. His chest hurt like hell with the movement. "I don't think there's much you could do, mate." He grinned. "It was totally worth it." Sirius tried to stretch, winced, and gave up. "After my mum had a go at me, I was on the dance floor for most of the night."

Reassured, James perked right up, sitting back on his bed. "Yeah? I thought you couldn't dance."

Sirius snorted. "Think again, and not that freestyle crap you and Wormtail try to pull. I'm talking about real dancing. The whole nine yards. With the most gorgeous girl." James looked skeptical, like he was about to ask questions, so Sirius added dryly, "You might want to think about learning how to dance Prongs… for your wedding at least." He had the pleasure of watching his best mate's face bleach white at the thought. James swore again.

Saturday afternoon, a week later, an owl came for him, depositing an envelope with the official Gringott's seal on his bed. He'd opened it to find a letter and a small golden key to his very own vault, courtesy of Alphard. Wryly, he wondered how long it would take his mother to discover the transference of the gold. He decided to go pack his things before she burned them all in vengeance.

It made for a somber evening. He told the Potters he'd been kicked out for good, and about the gold his Uncle Alphard had lent him. Mr. Potter told him he could stay as long as he wanted, and Mrs. Potter had gotten teary-eyed, saying Sirius was "like a second son" to her. It had touched him, but even that small warmth couldn't block out the bitter dragging at his mind at the thought of what he had to do. James followed him to the floo, probably waiting for a moment of weakness where Sirius would ask him to come with. Sirius kept his mouth shut.

"At least you won't have to go back anymore," James had said bracingly as the fire turned green.

Sirius gave him a smile, but he could tell it didn't come out right. Closing his eyes, he turned toward the fire. "Number 12, Grimmauld Place." The last thing he saw was James' worried face as he was whirled away.

The green firelight illuminated the dark kitchen fluorescently, scattering into a thousand neon beams as it ricocheted across crystal and silver. Sirius stepped out of the fire warily, looking around. Nobody there. He let out his breath. Maybe he was alone after all. Creeping up the stairs, he made progress silently through the house. Passing the dismembered elf heads in the hallway, he could hear the wireless going in the living room. Listening carefully, he could also hear Regulus talking over it, probably calling someone from the floo. He went upstairs.

The portraits in the hall were all sleeping, and Sirius almost began to believe he'd make it to his room without being stopped. He froze at the top of the first-story stairs, hearing a dry cough. Please be asleep, he prayed fervently.

"Ah, young Sirius. Come to grace us with your presence?" Damn. Sirius turned slowly to face one of his long dead relatives, sitting on a throne in the life-size portrait.

His long, bony fingers stroking his golden wine glass, Sirius Black II stared down at his descendent and namesake with a sneer, skin stretched translucently over his skull and cold malice in his ebony gaze. Lank black hair was swept back from his overbearing forehead. "Did you not hear the news, boy? I thought people fifty miles away would hear your mother screeching. She was worse than that blasted house elf. Then again, if I had a son like hers…"

Sirius bared his teeth. "Hasn't anyone told you you're dead yet? Go to hell. " Oddly enough, he heard Lily's voice in his head. Oh, very mature, Sirius.

Spider-thin eyebrows arched upward at his tone. "I knew I must be. I would never have allowed this family to be so exploited by such an ungrateful little heathen. You are an abomination." The phrase might have been more impressive if you hadn't said it a million times before.

"That he is," another portrait chimed in, it's nasally female voice grating. "How dare you show your face in these halls of my forefathers? You're a disgrace to the Black family." Same old insults. Creativity apparently isn't an inherited trait.

"Now, now, Lysandra," a dulcet woman's voice soothed from yet another portrait down the hall. "Mayhap the lad came to ask forgiveness for our shame." If he wasn't so tightly wound, Sirius might have actually laughed at that one.

More portraits began to chime in with accusations and insults to him and each other, back and forth until the sounds were echoing throughout the house. Sirius's head swam, and he wondered if he was really going to pass out. He put out a hand to steady himself on the wall. Now was definitely not the time. He started walking forward, his eyes tight against the yelling of the portraits as he passed them. Then, as if on cue, they all grew quiet.

Sirius looked over his shoulder to see Regulus at the top of the first floor staircase. Damn. He'd hoped to spare Regulus from a last goodbye, knowing how hard the family feud had been on his younger brother.

Sirius took the first good look at his brother he'd had since that fateful battle on New Years. A good five inches shorter than him, Regulus was nearing his sixteenth birthday, but hadn't reached his full growth yet. Wiry and pale, he'd always been the runt of the litter, even among other fifth years. It was part of the reason he'd been picked for Seeker on his house team. Even after this many years, Sirius felt a measure of nostalgic pride every Quidditch match his brother played in. He'd taught Regulus Quidditch when they were kids. Before life got complicated.

"You came back," Regulus said softly.

"Just to get my things," Sirius replied. Volumes were said in those five words. He knew Regulus could see this was final. His little brother had always been quick.

His brother's leaf-green eyes seemed to darken a little. His gaze flickered away from Sirius. Disappointment. "You know, if you only asked her… she'd probably-"

"No, Reggie, she wouldn't. And even if she did, I wouldn't want to come back anyway. I don't want anything to do with this family." Sirius winced at the harsh words. He hadn't wanted to drag his little brother into this. Where Sirius had always made waves with their parents, Regulus had only struggled to keep his head above water. His little brother had had it harder than him, groomed and brow-beaten to be everything he wasn't. Slytherin, Prefect, on the Quidditch team. As far as their parents were concerned, Regulus was a carbon-copy of perfection. And his little brother had suffered for that estimation. Guilt tore at him.

"Why?" Regulus's eyes met his imploringly. Something like pain laced the question. He'd thought Reggie would be glad he was leaving, his brother hated the fights that shook the rafters just as much as he did. "Why is it so hard for you to be here?"

"Because it's all wrong, Reggie. Haven't you noticed? Have you ever listened to the portraits? They're practically drooling with their pureblood mania." Sirius gestured toward their painted relatives, who sneered and muttered darkly. Something flared inside him, maybe it was the need to be understood. He'd gotten a taste of it from his uncle. Maybe he could make Regulus see his side, too. "They think we're freaking royalty, Reggie. Like we have the right to kick people around because of our ancestry, We're no better than anybody else. You could've been born a muggle! I could've been born a squib. I'm not proud of a family like this. I don't think I should be; beheading house elves, muggle hunting, dark arts. What's so great about that?

"Look there." Sirius stabbed his finger towards a blank stretch of wall, it's wood darker around the edges of a square shape, where a picture had been taken down. "Whose portrait was there?"

Regulus regarded the wall warily as if it might bite, answering automatically. "Cedrella Black-Weasley" His gaze swung back to Sirius. "She married a blood traitor." His face twisted instinctively into disdain. Carbon-copied perfect disgust.

Sirius stared him down, wanting to shake him. "She married someone who made her happy. Who took care of her and didn't go out of his way to dig his heel into people's faces. What's wrong with that!?" He almost shouted the question at his brother, trying to block out the portraits' mutters. He closed his eyes briefly, taking a steadying breath. This wasn't Reggie's fault.

Regulus seemed to mull over his words, hoping to validate his parents, trying to find the right answer. Sirius knew there wasn't one. He'd tried before. 'A less jaded view of the world' his uncle had said he had. Maybe that was why he'd never understood his parents' pureblood superiority complex.

At last, Sirius sighed. "Lets put it this way. I could go around, acting just like how they want me to act, being everything they want me to be. It would be easy, I would be living the good life. But how would I justify myself to anybody without my noble ancestry as an excuse? That's what's so great about their superiority. They tell themselves they don't have to justify their actions to anybody, just so they can go around doing whatever they want. Nobody needs that kind of power. Not unless they know how to use it right. And they don't, Reggie."

Sirius didn't know if his message had sunk in, but there was no other way he could explain it. Maybe a sense of honor was a Gryffindor trait. Regardless, he turned and went up the stairs, heading for his room. Regulus didn't follow.

(A/N)

Wow, this was a hard chapter to write! Why? That would involve a little character analysis of my own on Regulus:

Reading Deathly Hallows, I fell in love with Regulus. Despite all the evil he did, he did have a sense of nobility and right and wrong. I think Regulus honestly looked up to Sirius, like all younger siblings do to some point. But he wasn't as headstrong as his older brother, and so he followed the crowd and tried to do what was expected of him. Their mother was quite honestly, a hag. After Sirius proved to be such a disappointment, I think she was harder on her younger son. Then, once Regulus got in so deep with the death eaters, he knew deep down that it was wrong, but it was too late. Like Sirius said, "You don't just hand in your resignation to Voldemort. It's a lifetime of service or death." (OotP, pg. 112 US version) If Regulus turned traitor, his family was dead. So he made the right choice, and none of his family never knew. Is there anything more heroic? No wonder I love the boy!

But back to the chapter. It was so hard to convey all this, because I was writing from Sirius's perspective, and Sirius truly didn't know what would become of his brother. He influenced Regulus, but he never did it consciously. How do you write that? I hope I didn't do too horribly. It took almost a week as is. I also didn't mention much of Andromeda in this chapter. People are probably surprised, seeing the effect she had on Sirius. But for the moment, he's got bigger fish to fry than to while his time away obsessing. Sirius has decided to let the mystery of Andromeda lie for now and be content. (At least, until next chapter). )