Disclaimer - Do I really have to put this? They're not mine, I just like playing with them.

Egwene - I'm so glad you liked the chapter! 'Perfect' - wow! No one's ever called anything I've written 'perfect' before. Thanks. Yeah, I've wondered about my liking for H/C before now as well. I've finally accepted that I like it and that nothing is going to change that. My friends do all think I'm rather odd though... Most of them refuse to read any of my stories. I've been told more than once that they're scary. I just don't get it... I hope you enjoy this chapter as well.

XaveriiJade - thanks for the review. It's nice to know that people are liking it.

Spanky and Pie - I by no means have a firm handle on the Maori language! In fact, I'd never even see it before your review. I do, however, have a fascination for languages, and I was determined to find out what your review said! I'm just glad my reply was actually understandable...

Phinea - as I was saying to Egwene, I've wondered about that liking for torture as well! I'm glad you found mine so good. Hmm, you know, I can't think about that scene now without hearing 'Raindrops keep falling on my head...'. Thanks for your review, and I hope you like this chapter as well.

Happy Reviewer - thanks for the review. Glad you're liking it. Don't worry, I'm not stopping anytime soon.


Chapter Six

There were some lessons, Sirius mused dejectedly, that he had learnt a little too well. Even though he had rejected the rest of his family's bullshit, there were some things that were just too deeply ingrained. Some directions had been drummed into him from such an early age that they had become second nature.

"Never show your true feelings, Boy. You are a Black. Blacks are always strong." Those were his mother's words, spoken so many times. It was rather odd really, when you considered how rarely the woman heeded them herself... His father was the controlled one. His mother regularly showed her feelings – usually anger and disgust, and usually directed at him. It was merely one of her many admonishments concerning his upholding of their 'noble name'. He didn't care about that, hadn't done for quite some time... but he had learnt that there was another side to it, and it was because of that that the lesson had stayed with him.

He must never show weakness, not because of the family image, but because a weakness would inevitably be used against him - even by people he should have been able to trust... That had been entirely his own deduction, built from experience. And what were weaknesses? The showing of emotion, of course, as his mother had always said. Any emotion at all. Everything had to be hidden beneath a careful mask, or more sorrow would soon closely follow. If he didn't admit that he cared about something, then that care could never be used against him, could it?

There was more to it than that. To admit that you might not be perfect in every way, that you might not know the answer to a question, that you might have a problem... Each was an admittance of weakness, and each would lead to pain.

Even when he was amongst his friends the mask stayed in place. He was Sirius Black - impulsive, carefree, outgoing. Prankster extraordinaire. He didn't admit that he might ever care about something. He was untouchable. He would never admit to them that he might need their help.

And now...? Now he might need their help. And he'd lost the right to even ask for it, never mind receive it.

He shivered in the cold of his room, wincing as that involuntary movement set pain jangling again through his body. He was in far over his head. A head, he might add, that felt as if it had been trampled by a hippogriff. A hippogriff that had then trampled over the rest of him. He lay back on his bed - gingerly - carefully trying not to place any pressure on either wound on his head. Or any of the hurts on his back, front, arms or legs. After a moment he gave it up as a bad job, and merely lay as he was, his head turned carefully to one side.

He had been a fool. He ought to have just left when he had the chance; gone straight to Dumbledore with the information that he had. Or he should have planned out carefully beforehand how exactly he was to destroy those damn potions. If he had he wouldn't be stuck in this situation now. But he hadn't. He'd just ploughed straight in as he always did, unmindful of the consequences. The only good thing he could see in it was that this time at least, it was only he being caught in the aftermath of his idiocy. None of his friends would be affected by it. Not this time.

It was mid-afternoon now, and daylight was beginning to shift into the shadows of winter dusk. Father had not yet returned to the house. Sirius didn't know whether or not to be grateful for that fact or not. The longer he could put off the confrontation with the man the better, but, as he waited, his fear steadily grew. He couldn't even do anything to take his mind off the imminent encounter!

For a while he had slept, but it had been an uneasy slumber, broken by disturbing dreams. He had then tried to rise from his bed, to actually do something - only to be overcome by dizziness, the room spinning madly, sickeningly around him. He'd lain for the next half-hour or so with his eyes squeezed tightly shut, breathing carefully as he fought back the nausea that threatened to make him yet again lose the meagre contents of his stomach. He hadn't yet dared to try anything else, and he lay still on his bed, listening to the distant, indistinct sounds of the house as he strained to keep his mind off his aching body.

That was something that he had had a fair amount of practice at over the years. Physical punishment had been the norm for him in the Black household from the moment he was born - so much so that a day without a blow for some mistake made had been a rarity for many years now. And things had, of course, become much worse once he had been placed amongst the hated Gryffindors, not to mention their reactions when he first began to tentatively express ideas that clashed with their Pure-blood creed. Admittedly, it had never before been as bad as this...

He was finally beginning to drift again into a restless sleep when he heard his door creak open.

"You never do things by halves, do you Sirius."

Sirius slowly, unwillingly, cracked open his eyes to see his brother standing just inside the doorway.

"If you've come to gloat, Regulus, you can piss off now."

"No, I don't think I will. I rather like seeing you like this. All alone and defenceless without your little band of Gryffindor cronies hanging around you."

"I said 'piss off'. Are you deaf as well as stupid?"

"You know," Regulus mused, slowly wandering further into the room, "I could do anything I wanted to you right now and I would be praised by Mother and Father. And you wouldn't be able to do a single thing to stop me."

"How much do you want to bet on that?" Sirius pushed himself to his feet, gritting his teeth against the protests of his body. He may have felt like shit, but he wasn't going to let Regulus, of all people, lord it over him.

"Oh, quite a bit, I'd say. After all, a single call from me, and I'm sure Mother would be quite happy to come and give you a second helping."

His brother moved closer until he was standing directly in front him - too close, Sirius felt. Before he put any distance between them, the younger boy reached out a hand and lightly brushed against the angry bruising on his forehead. "I could hear you screaming earlier," Regulus whispered, almost conspiratorially. "I wouldn't mind hearing it again."

Sirius batted his brother's hand away. "You never miss a trick, do you?" he snapped. "Just piss off!"

"But it's such a temptation. You'll never believe just how much of a temptation."

"Just because I'm helpless now," he snarled, "does not mean I'll always be so. Just wait 'til we get back to Hogwarts..."

Regulus' grin now was pure satisfaction. "If you ever get back to Hogwarts. From what I've heard Mother and Father discussing downstairs, well, lets just say, I'm not sure you'll last that long."

"Father! He's back?" Oh shit!

Regulus obviously saw his growing sense of panic, as his grin grew even wider. He took a casual step back, away from Sirius, then another - moving until he leant nonchalantly against the wall near the door.

"Oh yes. He's back all right, and not at all happy. In fact, the word 'furious' doesn't even cover half his reaction to your little exploit." He glanced at the door. "He should be here soon. He was just 'surveying the damage', last I saw." He paused. "I've been thinking that I might just watch. And listen."

"You're sick!"

"Maybe, maybe not. Personally, I find most of your pranks fall under that heading. So that makes you 'sick' as well, Brother. All I know is that I'm going to enjoy this."

The sudden sound of heavy, angry footsteps on the staircase caused them both to fall silent. A few moments later his father stormed into the room, his features twisted with fury. Sirius wasn't at all surprised to see Regulus slip out before he was noticed. For all his bravado Regulus was not about to get in their father's way when he was in a rage such as this. He didn't blame him. He would have given anything to be able to slip away unnoticed himself.

Without speaking even a single word the older man crossed the room and slammed his fist into Sirius' face, knocking him into a sprawling heap on the ground. He quickly scrambled back to his feet, swaying unsteadily on treacherous legs, his hand lifted to his cheek. His pulse was racing as he backed slowly away. He had a nasty feeling that there was much worse yet to come. The anger on his father's face was more chilling than he had ever seen before.

"You'll pay for what you did!" the older man snarled. "Years worth of work...! I'll make sure you regret it..."

Sirius made no answer, his eyes darting around the room, searching for an escape route. He had to get away... Now! How could he get away?

Gathering the ragged remains of his depleted strength, Sirius leapt forward, taking his father by surprise. His shove knocked the older man off balance, giving him the moment he needed to slip past him towards the door.

"Immobilus!"

He felt himself freeze, all control over his body gone. Shit! He struggled, trying to break through the charm, but it was no use. His father's footsteps sounded behind him and, with a sudden jolt, he felt himself spun around. The eerie smile on the man's face was enough to set panic streaming through him.

"Oh no, Boy. You'll not be getting away that easily."

Unlike his mother's mad shriek, his father's deep voice grew soft with anger. The man was controlled, his actions lacking the insane fire that dominated his wife's. That was not to say, however, that they lacked the vehemence - or the towering fury. That was clearly visible in the man's stormy grey eyes.

"Have you any idea what you have done? Years worth of work, all gone, destroyed!"

His father's fist flew towards him again, this time slamming into his chest, landing against the bruises formed earlier by his mother's kicks. He gritted his teeth against the pain, unable to do anything else. He wanted to do something, anything - to fight back, to defend himself. The older man's spell held him firm. He couldn't even move a muscle to speak as his father raged on, unchecked.

"And what's this I hear about you trying to kill Severus Snape?" he demanded, leaning so close their faces almost touched. His hair, lank and greasy from the many hours spent amongst his cauldrons, brushed against Sirius' cheek. Had he been able Sirius would have flinched at the sensation, would have flinched away from the enraged features, but he was not able.

"You were nearly expelled from Hogwarts!" the older man snarled, finally drawing back. "The very thought of it. A Black, not only a Gryffindor, but also expelled from the most prestigious school in the world. And this Black is my son!" Another blow to his face snapped Sirius' head to the side, causing tears of pain to fill his eyes.

"You should try to be more like young Snape. I am envious of his father, having a son with such promise. A son with proper respect! A son with a suitable appreciation for the noble art of potion brewing! But I? I have you!"

Without even a moment's warning Sirius suddenly found himself tossed harshly against the nearest wall. Pain flared. Before he could reorient himself he was spun sickeningly back around. He hung now, suspended in mid- air as his father growled his insults at him. His entire body still shrieked from his earlier encounters with his mother, and from the after-effects of the explosion, and it protested fiercely against the treatment it was now receiving. His head pounded wildly. He could feel blood trickling down the side of his face from a cut along his hairline, but he was unable to even lift his hand to brush it away. His sight swam; the image of his father continued to blur and shift unnaturally.

"You are a disgrace to this family, to the noble house of Black. Whatever did I do to deserve a child like you? A mudblood loving blood traitor!"

This time he saw the twitch of the wand before he found himself yet again flying across the room into the wall, his body barely missing his book shelves. He gave a silent cry of pain, thankfully denied the indignity of being forced yet again to vocalise his agony, but unable to hold it back as his arm struck the hard surface with a sickening crack. His mind went black. For the space of a few blissful seconds he was free of pain.

But it didn't last.

A moment later everything came rushing back as he felt himself again spun sharply around. He blinked sluggishly; his breathing harsh, as if he had just ran for miles. His cheeks, he realised, were damp with tears. His arm hung limply at his side, howling its distress. His father's words now fell on his ears without meaning, merely an unintelligible noise that added to his sense of complete dislocation.

Barely a second passed this time before he was moving again, pain washing over him with the motion. That was nothing, however, to the jolt of agony as his shoulder struck against the twisted shape of the gas lamp adorning the wall. The metal tore through his flesh. This time when the darkness claimed him it did so for longer.


The sound of the door closing seemed far louder than was natural. It reverberated through his haze-filled brain, drawing him slowly back towards consciousness.

He was alone again. His father was finally gone.

He had returned to reality a number of times before, only to find himself still being subjected to the older man's violence. But now he had been left, curled on his floor, shaking still as pain raged through every inch of his body. At some point, he realised, the Immobilus charm must have been removed. He could move again. Well, kind of... With a groan, Sirius tried to push himself to his feet, only to collapse back into a heap barely a moment later. His entire body felt like jelly. It hurt even to breathe... Moving was out of the question.

Besides, he thought groggily, the floor seemed pretty comfortable to him... Yeah, definitely... pretty damned comfy...

He drifted back into soothing darkness.


When next he awoke it was to shivers racking his body, setting pain jangling along his every nerve. He curled up on the hard floor, his knees drawn close to his chest, but that did little to banish the cold. Nor did the thin sunlight filtering in through his window. Bed... He needed to get into his bed...

He groaned, unsteadily pushing himself to his knees, cradling his broken arm to his chest. He couldn't help the small, distressed cry that escaped him as he felt the bones grate painfully together. With a deep, pained breath he clambered to his feet. For a moment he thought that he was going to immediately collapse again. His head swam. His legs shook, threatening to give way. With unsteady, erratic steps he made his way across his room. He barely even considered checking his door, trying to get out. Even if, by some odd twist of fortune, it proved to be unlocked, he greatly doubted he could make it down the stairs, never mind out of the house.

The mattress looked so inviting. So did the covers – even the thought of being warm again was blissful. He clambered carefully into the bed, his body shaking, his legs threatening to give way any moment. Finally lying back, he closed his eyes against the sunlight that was assaulting them. It was several further long moments before his hazy mind realised just what that pale light meant. It was morning again. Which meant that it was Christmas Day...

"Merry Christmas to me," Sirius muttered bitterly. Barely a second later he was again lost to the world.


A/N - Well? How was it? Please review and let me know.