Sirius darted around the large courtyard, zooming in and out of the tall trees on his prize possession and best friend since he could fly. He loved flying he loved the freedom he felt with it the way he could make believe he was anything and anywhere when he was soaring through the sky. A life without rules without punishments and life that was his. He veered angrily to the left, using his whole body to turn his broom into a spiralling dive, rising moments before he hit the ground. He loved adrenaline, loved adventures and loved life, he wanted to find something that made his heart pound louder than flying did.
He soared over the place he called home "more like a bleeding prison " he thought to himself bitterly to himself as he descended eventually to the grounds. Soon would be the evening ball at the black household and as his fathers only heir he was expected to be present and behaved appropriately. He scowled at what that entailed, "wearing bloody best robes and looking like a complete arse, talking politics and about what a great house slytherin will be"
He really wished he had longer to soar over the ground to burn up the energy that seemed to bounce around inside of him. His father demanded that his behaviour be appropriate and that he show pure blood grace and charm that all blacks had, even him apparently
The high pitched screech hit his ears long before he saw her, the dreaded banshee woman, his mother. Hard faced with an air of distaste for everything around her and a voice like poisoned honey. Sickly sweet and able to strike fear into the hearts of braver men than him. He had convinced himself that she was part banshee, no way that voice was normal.
A high screeching noise filled the air again as he neared his mother "Sirius Black,, how dare you be out here flying around like some fool, you know very well we have guests and no respectable Black has interest in flying or that barbarian spot you love to play, now get yourself inside and do not make me ask twice or................."
Sirius tuned her voice out as he often did, scowling slightly at her slanderous words about quidditch, which was simply the best sport around. At least his father was a fan that was the one thing that stopped his mother breaking him most prized broom into firewood. All because she was scared of flying, not that she would ever admit that.
His face drained as he felt the spell hit the side of his head, he flinched in pain, he hated when she did this, he would be feeling the pain for several hours now. Her shrill voice was scalding him for not paying attention and he heard enough to know that he needed to be dressed and ready to present himself sooner than possible.
He hurried towards his room wanting to hide away from the rest of his family who were obviously mad, they saw no fun or life in anything, their whole world was black like their name. Sighing softly Sirius began to get ready for a very long night, pretending to be the perfect son, pretending to be above everyone else, pretending to give a damn who was who, pretending all night to be someone he wasn't.