Chapter 135

Inspiration

Sirius was having a wonderful day. He felt light, as though he didn't have a care in the world. All his problems, all his worries, poof, gone just like magic. There wasn't an adverse thought in his mind, in fact, he was hardly thinking at all. The rest of the world didn't even appear to exist.

Sit, a voice he only vaguely recognized ordered in the back of his mind, it sounded loud in his otherwise quiet brain. He obeyed without question. After all, why shouldn't he? What was the point in fighting when you were this content? Stay, the voice ordered again. And again, he had nothing to argue about. The chair was comfortable, the most comfortable chair he'd ever sat in, to be honest. He had a faint impression that there was something touching his hair, but that didn't matter, and when he focused deeper on that feeling of bliss the sensation was gone, as though it had never been there to begin with. Sirius didn't miss it. Up, another order and he were on his feet, standing was better than sitting anyway. Yes, he much preferred to stand.

He didn't even need to hear the order to walk but it was given anyway. It was as though his guardian angel was whispering thoughts into his ears, telling him wat to do to make him even happier, because every new order was exactly what he wanted to do at any given moment, from grabbing a pinch or some sort of powder, to stepping right into a fire, to muttering some meaningless words and throwing the powder.

But that was the end of it. The airy, lightheaded feeling was gone so fast his head spun making him feel ill.

"Wha?" he asked no one in particular, confused at the sudden dizziness. He reached up to grab his forehead to control it better when he felt something off.

"Much better." He turned at the sound of his mother's voice, fury rising so high he could taste bile.

"You cut my hair," he accused, on the verge of the largest tantrum he'd ever thrown. It wasn't even his hair that was the problem, he could regrow that in an instant, it was the method she'd used. He knew the effects of the imperius curse even though he'd never felt it until now.

What angered him the most, though, was that for the first time in his life he was afraid of her. He was afraid and he didn't like it. He shouldn't be afraid of his mother, that was the absolute opposite feeling of what a mother should produce. Sure, he'd never really found comfort in his mother's presence even as a kid, but fear? He'd hated her for the better part of four years now, yet all that paled in the face of what he felt as he turned and looked at the content smile on her face.

"Don't act so surprised boy, I told you that if you didn't cut it off yourself I'd do it for you. In fact, I've been incredibly patient on the matter," she reminded with her ever-present disapproving glare. They were alone in the sitting roo and the small, claustrophobic space had never felt so stifling.

"You-you..." he started but couldn't find words to suit his anger, impressive considering he had a large vocabulary to fall back on. He finally settled on a curse word. She stepped forward, her wand already out and pointed right in between his eyes. He didn't back away, or even so much as flinch, instead he glared directly into the tip of her wand in an act of defiance.

"You listen to me now, Sirius, and you listen well. You are already on thin ice in this house and I would tread carefully if I were you. Don't think we don't know where you've been going during the Christmas holidays, to that house of mudblood lovers, and I've heard of the way you Potter friend chases after that muggle, it's revolting. So. Watch. Your. Tongue!" she seethed, almost hissed even.

"That's fine, I'm actually rather fond of a good swim, and I've never been bothered by a little chill," he replied a cocky grin matching a careless shrug. Her reaction wasn't the satisfying anger he was expecting but rather a dark grin, mocking his rebellion.

"Oh, you'll be bothered by this, because we haven't even approached the subject of your grades." She lowered her wand, holding the tip of it in her other hand with just two fingers, and, though he'd deny it to the grave, he found her posture quite unsettling.

He'd been wondering how long it would take for that topic to come up.

"I already know all the stuff, who cares about..." he started but she interrupted, yelling now.

"I don't care about your excuses!" She stopped and forced the volume of her voice lower, a tell-tale sign that there were guests in the house. Her arms returning to her side and her wand hiding in her sleeve, ready to be used at any time. "This is your only warning, Sirius," she said even-tempered now, which he found was not preferable to the screaming maniac he was used to. "Your low marks are an embarrassment to us all and I will not tolerate it.

He laughed, using the guest's presence to his advantage. "Or what? I'm not afraid of you."

Whether she believed the lie or not he couldn't say, the expression on her face didn't change.

"Or I will make you transfer to Durmstrang," she threatened, her tone dark and there was a promise to her words.

"Make me? You can't make me do anything." he wanted to laugh at her empty threat as he watched her make her way to the exit of the room, but the look of triumph on her face as she turned back to him one more time shut him up tight.

"I believe I just did," she turned and removed herself from the room as he stood, stunned as the weight of her threat hung over him.

This hadn't been about his hair, she could have just shortened it by magic if she'd wanted to cut it that bad, no she'd been testing him.

And he hadn't so much as put up a fight. She was right, she could make him do whatever she wanted, the thought made him ill.

The last thing he wanted to do was to let her know that she'd gotten under his skin but he had no other defense from the fear that was beginning to make him weak-kneed then anger. He picked up the nearest object, not caring at all what it was and then threw it into a glass display case, scattering shards of glass and priceless heirlooms all over the room. The conversation he'd heard from the open door silenced at the sound, Bellatrix had been telling Walburga about some sort of scuffle in Diagon Alley earlier this day, but was now quiet, no doubt eager to hear his tantrum.

He stormed out of the sitting room, outright to look at his mother as he pushed B Bella out of his way to get up to his room before he could embarrass himself further, but Bellatrix wasn't going to let an opportunity like this pass her by.

"Aw, what's wrong, little puppy" she called after him, taking a step back so she could continue to see him as he tried his best to ignore her, even reciting the names of each and every bone in his animagus' skeleton to distract himself.

She laughed at his attempt, "is the mutt mad because mummy yelled at him? Or is he scared that he might have to be separated from his little friends?"

He froze, unable to remember what bone comes after the manubrium. His mind was desperately telling him to keep climbing the stairs but his legs wouldn't move. She was right, and he hated her all the more for it.

"No, it's cute, really. How much you need them, you're pretty helpless without them. It's just adorable."

She half screamed half laughed when he fired a curse at her along with a few choice rude words.

"Sirius Orion Black! You apologize to your cousin this instant," Walburga demanded stepping forward to emphasize her words. Sirius did nothing of the sort, a new curse word was her only response as he finished climbing the stairs and threw open the door to his room only to find a house-elf just doing its job at the wrong time.

"OUT!" he screamed at Kreacher, not caring that the elf hadn't done anything to him. As ordered Kreacher shuffled his way out the door, he wasn't fast enough.

"I SAID OUT!" Sirius repeated kicking the house-elf out of the room hard enough that it bounced off the opposite wall before he slammed the door shut, putting every locking spell that he could think of on it as well as a silencing charm on the rest of the room before he let out a full blown screaming tantrum, complete with objects crashing into walls and his mattress being overturned before his rage finally burnt itself out. He slid down a wall until curled in a half-fetal position running his hands through his newly shortened hair as the last remnants of his anger fiddled into exhaustion. There was a muffled vibrating noise from under is matters and he knew it was James calling him on the mirror but made no attempt to retrieve it. He lowered his head to his knees as he listened to the vibrating until James made the assumption that he wasn't available and he felt guilty the moment it stopped. He should have answered, he could have told James, needed to tell James, even. James could sort this out, make him feel less miserable, reminded him that he was brilliant and, of course, he could fight her or even raise his grades enough that he didn't have to. He shouldn't be letting Bellatrix's claim that he was helpless without them stop him. James would be mad that Sirius didn't come to him about this. But when he thought of everything else he'd put James through in the past few months, every failure, every weakness, James' words in the Shrieking Shack came right back to him. He didn't want to hurt his brother again.

There was always something. Something he wasn't strong enough to handle on his own. But not this time. He wasn't going to go whining to Prongs this time. He was a Gryffindor and Gryffindor don't throw petty tantrums in their bedrooms.

He got to his feet and began to pick up his mess (it was driving him crazy anyway) righting his bed and fixing what he'd broken until his room looked just the same as it had before but all that had given him an idea. Once upon a time, when the Marauders had been young and innocent, or more innocent at least, they'd mercifully redecorated the Slytherin's common room. This wasn't quite the same, but close enough to satiate his desire for revenge. All it took was a flick of his wand, changing his comforter to a brilliant scarlet and his pillows to shimmering gold before he was compelled to continue changing everything until there wasn'[t a scrap of Black left. Not just the color but his own family, by the time he felt satisfied one would never know this room was even a part of the rest of the house. Ruby walls with golden curtains, he transfigured his desk and the woodwork of his bed into mahogany, inspired by James' wand wood. He'd always liked the color of it. Even the rubbish bin was sparkling a brilliant gold.

By the time he was finished night had fallen outside yet there was something missing, the walls had always been are but it was more noticeable when he put effort into decorating his room. He sat on the bed and contemplated his walls, something he could say with certainty he'd had never done before.

Decided around midnight he'd have to look outside his room for inspiration and he wasn't going to find it in the rest of the house.

Sneaking out of the house in the middle of the night was a skill he'd perfected long before he started school He walked down the street, dressed in James' muggle clothes he'd stolen at some point looking all around for inspiration. As he walked he came across a small convenience store that appeared to still be open.

It was perfect, nothing would infuriate his parents more than muggle pictures or decorations.

He entered the store, glad he'd thought to bring some muggle money.

"All right?" the woman at the counter said as she looked up at the sound of the bell indicating a customer's arrival. Judging from the expression on her face as she looked up she hadn't expected company at this time of night, it didn't last long as the moment she caught sight of him a dreamy expression fell over her face. "Hi."

He rolled his eyes and walked down the row without saying anything. She was older than him, not by much, but it still creeped him out; the way girls stared at him like they'd just overdosed on Felix Felicis. Putting her out of his mind, for now, he examined the shop's wares looking for something unmistakenly muggle. He found himself fascinated by some of the things he found, walking down entire rows that didn't hold anything close to what he was looking for. The food section, for instance.

It wasn't his first time in a muggle store, of course, the shopping centre Remus had dragged them to over the Christmas holidays had been far more impressive than this tiny shop, but it was the first time he'd come alone. He didn't have to stop James from faking a fool of himself, or rush from store to store because Peter had gotten himself lost. He could stop and stare at the most inconsequential things, he could read the backs of the cereal boxes or examine the content of a pack of lightbulbs.

He'd have to come back with more money, there were tons of things to play with. For example, he was almost desperate to see if he could get that flashlight to shine in the gryffindor colors or if soda would make Moony more hyper then James' coffee did.

But it was near the front of the store after he'd examined it up and down that Sirius found his inspiration.

On a rack, just across from the counter where the cashier was trying in vain to not make it obvious she was watching him, were magazines. His muggle studies teacher had told them that magazines were like muggle newspapers but more stylized and it showed there was one about sports and one for teenagers and one about...

Motorcycles...

He snatched up like he was desperate, flipping through the pages in awe.

The vehicles themselves would be a dead giveaway of their muggle origins and the unmoving pictures would hammer in that fact, that wasn't even mentioning the fact that a number of the photos had muggle girls on them. Muggle girls that were made more attractive just by being associated with the bike, not that the skimpy clothing didn't help. Once ha managed to pull his eyes away from one picture in particular with a sleek black Harley with a curvy brunette girl with ripped baggy jeans and a very tiny top, it wasn't even an advertisement for the bike rather than the sports bra she was wearing ( weren't bras supposed to go under clothes?) he looked around at the other magazines, hoping to find another like the one he was still holding, he found the sports one was similar, in that it seemed to feature scantily clad women more than any actual sports.

The girl on the cover, however, reminded him of another dark-haired athlete he knew and he put it back. He'd managed to go the whole summer without thinking of Andrea and he didn't want to break his record.

Not that he thought about her a lot before, or he told himself he didn't. He made his purchase, giving the cashier the correct amount of pounds in record time and hurried out of the store, reading the articles as he walked.

By the time he got back to number twelve he'd decided the brand, make, and year of his dream bike and the picture of the black-haired beauty and her Harley were given the honor of a permanent sticking charm attaching it to his wall right next to his bed where it would be seen the moment he got out of bed in the morning and just before he went to bed at night. The others were merely scattered around the walls with the same spell. Then, and only then, did he feel the room was complete, and he could breathe a sigh of relief?

In one day he'd transformed his bedroom from merely the only safe place in the house to nothing less than a haven in the midst of Hell.

He was proud of himself for the first time in a long time. He'd managed to find an outlet for his anger that even McGonagal could have approved of entirely on his own. He plopped himself down on his scarlet and gold bed and wondered if it was too late in the evening to call James back.