Disclaimer: I... disclaim... It?

Disowned

The door was slightly ajar so that when sixteen year old Sirius Black turned from his desk he could see Kreacher's small figure addressing him from the hallway.

It (for Kreacher could be considered, in his opinion, nothing but an it) repeated, "Young master must come to dinner now." The house-elf just stood there, in its ragged pillow cover, awaiting an answer since Sirius had strictly forbidden it to set one foot in his room. He despised the creature so much he even cleaned (when the mess got out of hand) and made his bed every once in a while.

"I'm coming." He muttered coldly, turning back to the letter he'd been writing and signing it. He then moved to the window where a gray-ish black owl was perched stiffly. Sirius tied the parchment to the bird's leg and said, "It's for Prongs, ok?" The owl left almost immediately.

Before going down, the young man took a peek at the mirror to fix his hair. It wasn't hard, though, for it possessed that distinct elegance that was a Black Family trait. Formalities were highly observed in his house and he knew better than to ignore (at least in the presence of his parents) manners and every other bullshit he'd been taught since birth. Otherwise, he'd have to stand a three-hour long speech about etiquette and yes, (apparently it was always in order) about blood status.

He was the last one to sit at the eighteenth-century-exported-from-France dining table without receiving one glance from his parents. No one had started to eat yet, formally waiting for him.

"About time." Said Regulus annoyingly. Sirius chose to just give his younger brother a 'Fuck You' look as the house-elves began to serve the food.

No one spoke throughout the whole meal. As usual.

"Want me to tell mom and dad for you that you went out with Ethne Myers?" asked Regulus as Sirius walked out of the loo next morning.

"What?" he asked without looking at him. "What's wrong with that?"

"She's a mudblood." His little brother reminded him. Oh yeah. Sirius dated so many girls each year it that it was hard to remember each girl's face... or name... let alone background (plus, he didn't care about background). But apparently Regulus was glad to meticulously keep track for him.

"Whatever." He replied nonchalantly. "She's not the only muggleborn I've been with."

"What is that, Sirius?" his mother walked slowly upstairs and by the look on her face she seemed to have heard some bit of the conversation. Shit. He froze, didn't say anything but held her gaze steadily. "Sirius." She repeated in a dangerous tone. Her face was white, eyes wider than normal and mouth so thin it was almost invisible.

"What, mother?" Sirius gulped inconspicuously and kept looking at her defiantly.

"It's true. Ask Bella." Popped Regulus very unhelpfully.

The woman shot Sirius the most dirty glare she could manage while very slowly shaking her head. "You – are - helpless."

Her oldest son had to struggle not to roll his eyes in exasperation. Again. Not again. Always. Always reminding him what a disappointment he was, always comparing him with little perfect Regulus and Bellatrix and Narcissa, always telling him these ridiculously chauvinistic mantras.

"Why the hell are you so keen on bringing shame upon this respectable family's reputation?" she continued. "We've tried hundreds of times to make you see how lucky you are to be a Black, to be pureblood... how worthy you are, but you just don't get it!"

Sirius could feel his brother smirking behind him.

"We thought being in Gryffindor didn't have to mean you'd rot like your cousin Andromeda... but you're going right down the same path. You have no respect at all for your kind –"

"Yes! I know!" he snapped angrily in a hiss, unable to control himself. He always adopted a rebellious attitude with his parents and that got on their nerves greatly. He knew it and quite honestly loved it. But to snap at them at any level was not smart. Right then his mother's cheeks turned scarlet with anger and her eyes seemed colder if possible. He tried taking a deep breath. "You've told me this before. I already know this, mother." He added more politely, coldness still brimming.

"Well then why do you insist on ignoring it?" she almost yelled. Breathing shallowly she ran her hand through her hair, trying to hold back a few lose strings that escaped her fancy bun by the end of the day. In a more calmed but firm tone she said "Wait till your father gets home." She walked past him. "It's time to do something about this whole affair once and for all."

Sirius didn't turn to follow her with his sight but heard her heels moving further down the hall and then her bedroom door shut hard somewhere behind him.

His father wouldn't be home until the afternoon. Not that he was afraid of him. He wasn't afraid of mum's rage like a five-year-old but everything was starting to deeply annoy him. He couldn't stand his family anymore, and if he should have felt guilty about that, his mother would make sure he did.

Back in his bedroom the same gray-ish black owl he had sent yesterday was again perched on his window frame, this time carrying a different parchment.

'No, you dim-wit, full moon was two nights ago. Honestly, Padfoot, either you get yourself a bloody calendar or look out the window more often. Ha ha. So... yeah, don't send him anything noisy just now, wait a couple more days or he might go all the way to Grimmauld Place and bite ya. Seriously. He threatened me once, good, ol' Moony did. And as for Wormyboy, he's visiting his grandmother, I think.

Anyway, good luck with that pain in the arse your brother is. Remind him that for me, please. Ooh! That rhymed! Did it rhyme? I think it did!

Best,

Prongs.'

With a wide grin Sirius sat lazily on his chair and placed his feet on the desk. Moron, he thought amused. The good mood didn't last, though. This time, unlike every time he disagreed with his parents, he couldn't keep the situation in the back of his head.

Too idle to reply immediately, he instead grabbed some parchment and a quill and began designing a few pranks for the next school year. His sixth year at Hogwarts. The job took him most of the afternoon, missing lunch to avoid having to face mother and brother.

Either way, not even the pleasure of imagining what his parents' reactions might be when he and James finally break this year the detention record (set in 1587)... all the anger... all the exasperation... all the grief they'll experience... not even that could switch his mood permanently. Around four o' clock, the 'situation' was nagging him again.

He didn't dislike his family in the 'Adolescent "I-hate-my-parents" cliché' type. He truly didn't belong. If it weren't for his looks he'd swear St Mungo's made a mistake and placed him with the wrong family. If only. But wither away in dreams?

And hour later his father held a small glass of firewhiskey and stared serenely out the window of the drawing room. Sirius hadn't been able to hear properly through the door whatever his mother told the man. It had been very quick and she left the room as solemn as she went in, only nodding with her head to indicate her oldest son that he could -should go in now and closing the door when he did.

"Mother! I am not going to keep discussing this with you."

The grin on James Potter's face contradicted the solemnity of his statement. The woman opened her mouth to respond but shut it again and pursed her lips, although her eyes twinkled in amusement despite her annoyance. She simply watched as her son reached for the mashed potatoes bowl and nonchalantly helped himself to some more. He acted cool and serious but the smirk was evident no matter how hard he attempted to appear focused on his dinner. Adella Potter wasn't exactly young and having a trouble-maker for an only son sure didn't help her wrinkles and white hairs and yet it was extremely difficult to stay angry at him for too long. Ever since he was a small boy, he'd act like a demon from hell one minute and bring his mother flowers the next. Enough to drive anyone crazy. The summer break, however, had begun rather smoothly. Too smoothly. It couldn't last. And it didn't. Just that afternoon Adella had ran into a piece of parchment abandoned right in the middle of the hallway. Her brow furrowed slowly as she read it, realizing it was a plan for a huge prank on the Slytherin students that James was meticulously constructing. He had ran out of his bedroom moments later, spotted his mother and seized the parchment from her, thanking her for finding it as he had apparently been looking for it madly all morning. The discussion had carried on through the rest of the day and now here they sat, seemingly unable to find a resolution. Elmore Potter had merely chosen to stay out of this one and at one point attempted to start a weather conversation with their house elf, RINGWALD, who'd simply stammered and rushed back to the kitchen. Mr. Potter continued to eat quietly. He was forever internally torn between using an obviously necessary firm hand on his discipline lacking offspring and simply letting him be. After all, James's grades were good and he was very talented and had manners. Sure, he was a bit of a sociopath but truth be told, ELMORE was actually quite proud of his son's character and energy. He thought they had done a pretty good job on him despite all the detentions. The wife would often blame him for encouraging James's anti-Slytherin antics.

Adella sighed. She had missed her son with the intensity of a thousand suns but it wasn't as if they saw little of him. The trips they had to make to Hogwarts over whatever James and his friends had been up to were quite frequent.

"I dunno how we'll be able to look at professor Dumbledore in the eye anymore. We spoil you too much." Said James's mother. She did think they spoiled him too much. Sometimes they just couldn't help it. The news of her pregnancy had arrived just when the Potters had thought all chances were gone. He was as much of a blessing as he was a constant curse.

"Oh, please! The man enjoys our pranks more than we do, only he can't let it show." James replied and took a huge mouthful of mashed potatoes. "Nope. It's McGonagall's glare you should hide from. But I don't worry too much, she'll never ban me from Quidditch and that's all that matters."

"Don't take it for granted." said Adella.

"But I do, mum, 'cause she wants to win the cup, see." He batted his eyelashed at her.

Before Adella could get another word out the bell rang. The three Potters raised their eyebrows and waited for Ringwald to answer the door and announce the visitor.

"Who could it be at this hour?" Said James's father and looked over his shoulder at the big old clock on the wall. Moments later, Ringwald poked her head in and cleared her throat.

"Mr. Potter." They all looked at her in expectation. "Mr. Sirius Black is here."

"Sirius?" James asked estranged. He stood up immediately and walked out of the dining room, followed by Ringwald who informed him that Sirius was waiting in the drawing room and leaving his parents to exchange glances. The doors to the drawing room were open and inside Sirius looked at the photographs over the fire place. He had seen those pictures a million times but still enjoyed laughing at the ones from James's childhood. They were very unlike his own. In every baby picture of his, Sirius appeared well dressed, hair combed to one side and posing like a stiff with a moody look, a female hand popping into frame every five seconds to rearrange his bowtie or such. He turned away from the fireplace upon hearing footsteps approaching. James dashed into the room.

"Padfoot." Said the boy sounding surprised but smiling at his best friend. Sirius grinned back at him like he usually did. James was now looking at the bag at his feet. "What's up? I wasn't expecting to see you until next week."

Sirius sighed and looked at the floor. For a second there James noticed his friend looked as if the weight of the world had been placed upon his shoulders and his usually handsome features darkened considerably but in a moment it was all gone and Sirius looked up at him with the same familiar grin, pushed his dark hair out of his eyes casually and shrugged with ease. "Think it'd be ok if I stayed here for a bit?" He asked.

Perhaps he had just imagined it. Perhaps not. James decided not to press for it. Sirius was not big on vulnerability. Not his own, anyway. He would talk if he wanted to.

"No. We're all booked." James replied. Both of them smiled.

"Sirius. What a lovely surprise." James's mother had walked in before they said anything else and Sirius smiled at her.

"Hello, Adella."

She looked concerned. "What brings you here? Is everything alright?"

"Yeah, everything's fine. I was just asking James here if it'd be ok for me to stay for a few days. Just until I find me a place or something."

Adella stared at him for a moment. "Love, you know you're welcomed to stay here as long as you want. But does your mother know you're here? Did something happen?"

"We, er… had a fight. I'm moving out."

A fourth place was set at the Potters' table and a glass of wine had been poured for young Sirius Black shortly after. Mr. Potter had greeted him with a pat on the back and they all had sat to listen to his story. Mrs. Potter had remained very quiet and serious throughout the rest of the meal while James and his father grimaced, rolled their eyes and scoffed at almost every mention of Sirius's relatives, the latter becoming more and more effusive with the insults. Adella was torn between joining in their Black bashing marathon and being properly sensible. She wanted to say 'But she's your mother, she loves you' and 'She must be so worried' because it was the right thing to say but even to her it would have sounded ridiculous. The Blacks had never been her favourite people in the world, specially with all she'd heard about them through their own son, but still she was finding it hard to believe that a mother wouldn't react to her child running away from home. Stupid cow.

In the end, the Potters managed to convince Sirius to stay with them at least until the end of the summer and worry about finding a place later. Ringwald had the guest room ready by the time dinner was over. James lay on the bed, his head hanging from the edge, watching Sirius struggle to remember that spell that would send all of his clothes from the bag and into the drawers, neatly folded. Cleaning spells had never been a strong point for either of them. James had momentarily turned all of Sirius's clothes a sickly shade of pink by accident and Sirius so far had managed to make all of his stuff jump out of the bag and spread itself all over the carpet floor.

"How about you just get up in the morning and the first thing you step on, that's what you wear." Suggested James.

"Looks like I have no choice."

"Actually you do but it'd require you to… fold."

"Like I said, no choice."

"So," Continued James as he watched Sirius put away the bag, kick off his shoes and jump in bed, accommodating himself on the other end. "I'm almost done with this idea I told you about, just needs a few details sorted. I thought you could do that."

"Where is it?"

"My room. I'll show you tomorrow."

A comfortable silence fell between them. James stared off into space, lifted his shirt and used his stomach as a drum while Sirius crossed his arms behind his head and looked up at the ceiling. It had yet to dawn on him. Everything. All that running away conveyed. For one thing, he had been disowned. His last name would remain Black but he would no longer be one of them. He would try to detach himself from that world completely if possible. Pretend that it had never been a part of his life. He was actually free now. He could begin planning his future with no one in consideration but himself. He had dreamed about doing this for so long it was hard to believe he was finally out of that house.

"I'm poor now."

James quit drumming on his stomach and looked up to see Sirius still looking up at the ceiling but grinning widely.

"Yet… gleeful." Said James, mimicking Sirius's smile.

"Yeah."

"Wonder why, I mean, half of your appeal is gone." James teased before being attacked by a pillow.