Chapter 4

He was able to keep in control of himself until he got to the relative safety of his room. Waiting until he could hear nothing of Kreachers' footsteps, He finally broke.

Tears streaked his face in silence. Flicking his wand, he turned on a muggle radio station. He had forgotten the stations' name and never listened close enough to really hear. Placing his wand carefully on top of his bed stand, he sat on the black, gothic bed that was his when he was here.

He hated it with a passion. It represented everything that his family stood for, in his opinion, and should be burnt.

Wiping his eyes with the back of his hand, he flopped backwards onto the bed, landing spread-eagled across it. There, he had a wonderfull view of his "art project", as he called it, from last summer. A three foot long, one and a half foot wide lion was carved into his ceiling. He had even charmed the outlines to be red and the inside to shimmer in gold. He had carved it with his own hands.

He had instinctively done it, without thinking about it, really, before he was half way through. He liked to think that it was because it was exactly what his family would not have done. They would have reveled in the use of magic. He loved the fact that he himself had worked on, and completed, a project with the minimal amount of magic. It was his beacon of light, or his "light-house" as Remus would say, in this dark, dreary place he was in. It gave him comfort, and reminded him of what he was fighting for, himself and the Marauders.

He never really knew just how late it was when he finally fell asleep. Only that it must have been hours before he finally drifted off into a serene sleep. His dreams involving the Marauders, Hogwarts, Quidditch, brooms, and, his favorite dream of all, a polished mahogany bed in a room filled with red and gold, and nothing was black. Not even he was. He was just Sirius. And he was content.

It was early morning before he awoken by Kreacher's rough wake-up call. "Master wants to see you now, Young Master, in his bed chamber. He says to come quickly and that I will escort you there." Sirius huffed at the news. 'Such a wonderful way to start the day, no?' He thought as he pulled a night-shirt on himself. 'A nice, lovely talk with dear old pops. Just fuckin' wonderful.' He was done rather quickly. Mainly because he was annoyed. But more so, because he was afraid. Yet he was able to successfully hide this from Kreacher as he was walked down the hallway to his Fathers' bedchamber. He just hoped he would be able to keep this certain piece of information from his Father.

Upon reaching the door to his Fathers' bedchamber, Sirius became oddly composed. He even forgot fear. Only the boiling heat of frustration, rebelliousness, and hate could be felt now. Fear seemed to him silly now. A child's game even. Opening the dorr, he noticed, for the first time, the ornament carved onto the mahogany door frame. It was of a ghastly kind, and only deepened his resolve and hate even further.

Upon entering, one was, at first, blinded in the darkness. But soon, when the eyes got used to the darkness, you discovered that it wasn't darkness at all. You couldn't see anything because it was all black, grey, and extremely dark mahogany furniture. The one and only thing that caught the eye, after you could see it, of course, was the large mahogany desk.

It was 5 feet long and three and a half feet wide, ornately decorated in gothic scrawl. On top were few things, but all seemed to be rather dynamic characters staged on the desk. On Sirius' left sat a large, nine candle, golden candelabra. The candles, Sirius knew, were replaced daily, as they had been this morning. On his right, sat three piles of papers. No one knew the order of them but his father, but Sirius didn't have to think too hard about at least some of their contents, unluckily. And in the middle, sat a dragon leather desk calendar holder. Only, no calendar was in it. Instead, a quill and roll of parchment lay on top of it. The last thing on the desk was a nameplate. It read: "Mr. Aldric D. Black". Behind the desk sat his Father, perched regally, as though he was a king, on his large, cushy, dark green desk chair. It disgusted Sirius to no end whenever he saw his Father sit there. As though he was above all of them, and always would be.

"Sirius, I'm sure that you remember why you are here this morning." It was a statement rather than a question.

"Yes, Father. You are going to ask me something again." Commented Sirius in an equally cold, dry tone.

"Good. Then we'll make this quick. Will you or won't you ally yourself with your heritage and join us in our noble quest?" Came the response from his Father.

Sirius stared at his Father for a few seconds, trying to impress upon him the sincerity of his next words. And he did just thet, in his most maliscious, sincere, strongest voice he could muster.

"Never will I join your detestable cause. Neither will I ally myself with my heritage. It would be the most shamefull thing I could ever do, Father." For once, Sirius showed emotion in front of his Father. The first time in five years.

He could see his Fathers' face go red and then a pale white. "Never in all of my years have I been spoken to with such disrespect. You are not to leave your room for anything or anyone, except for me and your mother, until you are told otherwise. You shall eat in you room also. Leave me."

And Sirius left. The war had begun, Father against son in a battle of wills. Neither could fathom losing. Or the ending which actually took place.

AU-

Thank you for staying around for so long! Please, please, please Rate AND review! Thank you to all of you that have. And until next chapter, Sayanora!