A/N: Hey y'all! Some Sirius for you.
Word Count: 335
Enjoy!
Sirius kicked at the ground glumly, waiting for the headmaster to enter the office again. He always hated this bit, the waiting while McGonagall tattled on him. There were too many people watching him.
Portraits were unpleasant things.
Sirius' charcoal grey eyes scanned odd bits and scraps of metal on Dumbledore's desk. It wasn't because he was interested in any way; it was because he wanted to avoid making eye contact with a certain relative of his.
"Sirius. Back again, I see."
Ah. That hadn't been much use, then.
Sirius looked up at his however-many-greats grandfather and glared at him defiantly. "What?" he challenged.
Some of the other portraits in the room looked at either Phineas Nigellus or Sirius warningly. This ensuing argument was one Sirius had had often with his grandfather, and he was sure they were as tired of it as he was.
Phineas pinched his lips together, ignoring the warnings of his peers. "You are a disappointment to the Black family," he hissed. "You make a mockery of your upbringing."
Sirius laughed, a sound much too bitter for a sixteen-year-old. "They aren't my family anymore. You aren't my family anymore."
Phineas huffed. "As long as you carry Black blood, you are a part of this family," he chided. "Act like it. There will come a day when you will regret this foolish nonsense. You are not an idiot."
Sirius stood angrily and stormed over to the portrait until he was nose to nose with the old man. "You're right, I'm not. Which means that I'm not fool enough to associate with the lot of you."
Phineas looked at him disgustedly, and Sirius hated how small it made him feel, even after being on the receiving end of it for so long. "You cannot escape your fate, boy."
The door opened, then, and Sirius glanced back to see Dumbledore watching them with a frown on his face.
Sirius went back to his seat. "Maybe not," he hissed, "but I can damn sure try."