ONE YEAR EARLIER

12 Grimmauld Place, London

Sirius,

Often, I lay awake trying to forget about you, but I am always brought back to the first day that we met on the train. Without you, my world would be shrouded in darkness as if no color had ever existed in the first place. How I long to hear your laugh again, that cackle that resembles the sweet melody of a flock of squawking hippogriffs. Truly, your presence is like the sun on the rainiest of days, and the very thought of you fills me with an indescribable joy.

I wish to express these feelings in person, so nothing would please me more than for us to meet. How does this Saturday at noon in front of the Leaky Cauldron sound? I will wait there as long as I must to see your handsome face again.

Also, please give my regards to your parents. They are such wonderful people that I can't wait to make their acquaintance one day.

Yours Sincerely,

Jane P. Otter

Stifling a laugh, Sirius reread the letter over and over again until the words were engraved in his memory. It was ridiculous that this was all it took to get past the hawk-like eyes of his mother. Acting like some love-sick girl with less of a spine than his brother had actually worked! He grinned to himself as he thought of James hunched over his desk, penning a letter that would make even Evans flush a pretty shade of red. Never underestimate thy enemy. As a child that had been the first lesson under his mother's strict hand, yet she failed to live by it herself.

Before Hogwarts, in a time when he sported that awful shade of green with pride, Sirius spent the majority of his summers locked away in 12 Grimmauld Place, tormenting whichever stiff tutor his father sent his way, usually with Regulus by his side until the smaller boy scrambled away like a mouse at the sound of their mother's impending fury. It was either that or he'd be dragged by the ear to another party with his family. He could still remember it like it was yesterday – galas filled to the brim with gleaming Ministry workers, all of them eager to sink their claws into his father's pocket; tittering debutantes greeting his mother out of reluctant courtesy. It was an unspoken truth among high society that it wouldn't bode well for them, or their interests to make an enemy out of the united front that was Lord and Lady Black.

Those parties were by far the worst. Though as rare as they were, the only Black who hated mingling and small talk more than Sirius was none other than Lord Black. It didn't matter how much his mother scowled and stomped her foot like a petulant child, which of course, all occurred in the privacy of their own home – Orion Black had a strict three-hour policy. That was all the time he granted to the likes of Abraxas Malfoy, or Aunt Lucretia, or anyone else who had the gall to approach him.

While his father sat with a displeased frown, listening to the babbling of fellow partygoers; Sirius would wander around with a forced smile, the well-behaved heir sent off to play with his future business associates. Vassals would grasp his shoulder with fake smiles, flutes of champagne in their other hand, and they'd make innocent inquiries into his father's recent acquisitions. Overzealous mothers would not so subtly nudge their equally insufferable daughters toward him. He'd grit his teeth through the whole ordeal, suppressing a groan as Andrew Mulciber followed him around with a glint in his eye. He had no interest in making friends with any single one of them. His only solace was Regulus, who spent most of the party with his nose in a book. Only Merlin knew where Regulus hid, only choosing to reappear when it was time to go home. The little wonders that befitted the spare.

When Regulus was still too young to attend (left at home with their stoic governess), Sirius would cling onto his mother, refusing to be sent off into the pit of snakes. Surprisingly enough, his mother would indulge him and when unfamiliar faces peered down at him, he'd bury his face into her skirt. The other ladies would coo at the sight while Walburga Black swelled in pride whenever the topic of his accidental magic was brought up. He liked it that way as the only people who dared to approach his mother were sharp-tongued socialites. No one paid much mind to Sirius, at least not while there were more pressing matters to discuss like Victor Fawley's recent engagement to some ditzy social-climbing French witch. However, the day came that his father with a less than gentle push, left Sirius to his own devices.

Of course, before the sorting scandal, he'd found a safe haven in the form of Bella, or sometimes Cissy, whoever looked particularly menacing in their midnight blue dress robes. More often than not, it was Bellatrix. It was the wild gleam in her eye whenever whispers spoke of the dark wizard gaining influence in the north. She'd listen with intent and laugh unabashedly whenever someone whispered that the Ministry was closing in on him. As for Cissy, she'd perfected the role of a dutiful daughter and unlike her sister, she how to play the game that were those uncomfortable tea parties that left Sirius tugging at his collar because the tension was so thick that he could feel it suffocating him.

He used to look on in wonder as Narcissa smiled coldly, or could it even be described as a smile; it was so unnatural that it never failed to send a shiver down his back. She cared too much whereas Bellatrix never cared enough to even try. It was no wonder that Bella with her less than impeccable manners, was his mother's least favorite niece, or was her least favorite. Andromeda had snuck off with the title not too long ago. It all came back to Andy – the looming anger that hung in the air, the scorched mark on their family tapestry, and the reason that Sirius was now a prisoner in his own room.

"Regulus. Regulus." He called out, resting his forehead against the door. "I know you're there. If you're purposely ignoring me, I'm going to throw you off the Astronomy tower."

Sirius huffed impatiently before a voice rang out from the other side of the door. "Shut up! Do you want mother to come up here? And for your information, it's not my fault you're stupid. If you'd stopped and listened for once in your life, then none of this would have happened."

"How was I supposed to know that Andy was getting married?"

He listened to Regulus nervously shuffle before letting out an exasperated sigh. "I didn't know my expectations for you could sink any lower. How could you not know? That's all anyone's been talking about for the last week. And how'd you not notice Aunt Druella?"

"Well to be fair," Sirius drawled, leaning back. "I never pay too much mind to her. She's always like that in some way or another."

"Why of course! Aunt Druella crying in our parlor is just an everyday occurrence."

"We both know that someone crying isn't exactly strange in this house!"

Sirius sat there in silence as his brother let out a groan and stomped off to his own room. How was he responsible for that day? The day that they didn't speak of anymore. The day that Uncle Cygnus told his mother had been the same day that Sirius dozed off in a nearby park. It was so peaceful that he couldn't help but close his eyes just for a second.

Now that he thought about it, it'd been way too easy to slip past his mother's radar. What he didn't know that day was that his family had been far too busy with Andromeda's ceremony to even spare him a thought. His mother had wanted to blast her off the family tapestry the moment that Uncle Cygnus arrived empty-handed that morning, but Aunt Druella had begged her to wait a little longer. For some reason, they hadn't given up on the hope that Andy would come back. It was ridiculous that they genuinely thought Andy would have some sort of epiphany and leave poor Ted Tonks at the altar. Even after the ceremony ended, they hoped she'd come to her senses, or that was until word got back to the family that Andy's dress looked a tad bit tight on her.

He wasn't lying when he claimed to have not known. Sirius hadn't seen Andromeda since way before she even left, but no believed him. So here he was, locked away in his room like a princess in one of those muggle fairytales. The only living thing he'd seen this month was Kreacher who left him a tray of food three times a day. A week into his solitary confinement, he'd shimmied down a pipe alongside his window. Half-way down, he'd almost slipped but soldiered on because his feet almost touched the ground. What he hadn't noticed was his father's eyes. He had just gotten home to witness Sirius climb out the window, and it amused him so much so that he let him slide down that pipe. It wasn't until Sirius turned around to scamper down the street that he saw his father standing there with a bemused smirk. "And where do you think you're going?" His father asked innocently.

After his failed escape attempt, that foul house-elf who seemed to bask in his suffering was tasked with watching over him and keeping him from doing anything particularly stupid like jumping out the window. Not that he didn't try to fling himself out the window. He did, multiple times if he recalled correctly. He was sure that his magic would safeguard him from anything worse than a broken leg, but each attempt ended with him being thrown back onto his bed. Though Sirius knew that Kreacher wanted nothing more than to throw him against the wall. Maybe he'd crack his skull open, and Kreacher's future master would finally be Regulus. Just thinking about it annoyed him to no end.

However, it wasn't till that fateful Sunday morning when his mother came storming up the stairs; the sound of disgruntled ancestral portraits being woken up, the soft creak of Regulus's door as he peeked through a slight crack, and her stomping footsteps that seem to echo through the entire house. The door slammed open, and grey eyes widened at the sight of Sirius tying scavenged bedsheets together, the propped-up window, and then all hell broke loose.

"YOU INGRATE! WE'VE GIVEN YOU EVERYTHING! AND THIS IS HOW YOU THANK US? I SHOULD HAVE BROUGHT YOU HOME THE DAY YOU WERE SORTED INTO THAT FILTHY HOUSE OF BLOOD TRAITORS AND MUDBLOODS! I SHOULD LET YOU FALL TO YOUR DEATH!"

Hearing people scream bloody murder at 12 Grimmauld Place was not strange in it of itself. Truthfully, it'd be far more suspicious to hear nothing. If that day ever came, which Sirius seriously doubted, it likely meant they were all dead.

When his mother had burst into his room, he'd been half-way through making his makeshift rope with bedsheets he'd smuggled in during his bathroom breaks. He had every intention of lowering his truck and then climbing down that pipe again. The original plan was to escape and then make his way to Potter Manor, but unfortunately, nothing went right.

She'd shrieked again and the piercing throb in his temple only intensified as his mother's shrill voice grew more hysterical. Her pale hand lunged at him, grabbing him by the back of his collar as Sirius enacted his final escape attempt. He'd nearly succeeded in hurtling himself out the open window, but he stopped a few inches short when his mother clung onto him. He'd expected was for her to pull out her wand and finally make do on her promise to use the Cruciatus curse. What he hadn't expected were for her fingers to burrow themselves into his shirt as she held onto him for dear life.

Sirius would not leave this world unscathed if anything happened to his mother. No matter what she did, he would never lay a hand on his mother. Even further than that, he would never raise his wand toward her. Not as long as Orion Black breathed on this planet. How could he forget those impassive eyes that always seemed to wrangle the truth out of him ever since he was a boy? The smile that bordered on cruel whenever things went his way and if they didn't, then his father would make it go his way.

He was no fool, no matter how much he acted like one at school. He'd heard the stories about the incident with the Malfoys. Only pure luck had permitted them to incur the wrath of the head of The Noble and Most Ancient House of Black, and, still somehow live to tell the tale. Sirius often wondered if the catalyst for Lucius Malfoy's pursuit of Narcissa had been the lingering animosity between the two houses. How clever of Malfoy, almost too clever if you asked Sirius. It was likely the doing of that old cad, Abraxas Malfoy. To smooth over an almost twenty-year-old grudge with an unholy union was ingenious. He didn't expect anything less from those upstarts.

However, Sirius had only seen his father truly enraged thrice in his lifetime. Though he'd had never been the subject of said fury, Sirius had learned to recognize it by the slight twitch in his father's jaw. While his mother's fury was explosive, and could probably be heard down the street, his father's anger was slow and simmering until it lashed out and burned you so thoroughly that there was no hope for salvation. So, if anything happened to his mother, Sirius might as well dig his own grave. There was no doubt in his mind that his father would have his head mounted by noon alongside those dreadful house-elves.

So, in an act of self-preservation (a rare occurrence, for sure), Sirius had let himself fall onto the hardwood floor with an unforgiving thump. From right behind him, his mother came tumbling onto him with a shout. That was the day he realized that no matter how much his mother screamed at him until tears of anger ran down her face, she was predictable. Sneaking off resulted in no dinner that night. Mouthing off usually ended with a slap to the face that didn't hurt him except for an uncomfortable sting. Unlike his mother, Orion Black was an unknown variable, the man rarely intervened with his punishments and so Sirius didn't know what to expect from him. But that day, it was made abundantly clear whose idea it was to starve him. The small bruise on his mother's hand cost him five days' worth of meals. A small price to be paid for his indiscretion, so Sirius concluded on the floor of his bedroom as he was deprived of food on the first day.

As for today, today was the third day of his punishment. Courtesy of his father, Sirius was forbidden from opening his curtains to let in the sunlight, apparently, it was easier to break down someone's spirit if their sense of time was skewed. And so far, it was working, it made everything so surreal and the only reason that Sirius knew the date at all was because of Regulus who made it a point to mock him whenever he passed by on the way to his own room. The little snake only had courage when there was a door between them.

Listening to his stomach grumble again, Sirius distracted himself by emptying out his trunk of old quills, torn parchments, and even the occasional love letter. It seemed like an hour had passed when he first devoted himself to peering under the door. Hopefully, Regulus would take pity on him. They were brothers after all, and Sirius didn't think that Regulus hated him as much as he claimed to. So maybe, just maybe he'd sneak Sirius something out of the kitchen. It didn't have to be much; Sirius would be content with just a slice of toast.

He gave up after another hour passed, and that's when he saw the bottom of Regulus's feet sneak quietly past his door. So much for blood is thicker than water. His father had finally gotten what he wanted – Sirius was exhausted, and the smell of roasted turkey that wafted under his door only made the pain in his stomach grow even more unbearable. Everything was terrible and at the end of the day, he only had himself to blame.

Then he heard it, and it sounded so magical to his ears. The footsteps on the stairs that creaked at the slightest movement. Quiet ones at first, followed by louder, heavier ones. Was he hallucinating it? Surely, it must be a figment of his imagination.

"No, I told you this before." A voice said, just outside his door and Sirius sprung up and tried to peek through the small crack again. "Walburga, don't you dare open that door. For once in your life, leave it alone." There was deafening silence and Sirius held his breath. "He's to become the head of this house, yet you indulge him at every turn. How can you still try to coddle him after the stunt he pulled? Your precious whelp made his decision, so let him live with the consequences."

There was another silence, then an affronted gasp. "How dare you speak to me like that? That so-called whelp of mine is still your heir. Do you think I don't know what he does in that filthy house of blood traitors? I told you that he would only get worse if we left him there, but you refused to listen to me. Now, you must live with your failures. Let me through lest you want him to starve to death."

"Starve?" His father laughed incredulously. "Have you finally lost your mind, woman?"

"Yes, starve. Are you unfamiliar with the concept?"

"You must be joking. It's been a few days; it'll take more than that to kill him."

A few days, well it hadn't felt like that. Time didn't flow normally anymore – one day ended and then next began just as quickly, the days blended in on to each other until it became an incomprehensible tangled mess of time. One way to tell the time was to wait for Regulus to scurry past his door, his baby brother followed a meticulous schedule and it only took Sirius about a day to figure it out. Another way was to peek under the door and try to see the little flash of light that came in through the corridor window. Once, he'd fallen asleep on his floor and woken up to pitch darkness.

"He's still a boy," his mother argued. "A bumbling fool of a boy, but still a child, nonetheless. We agreed that I would be in charge of him."

"A child? He's nearing fifteen, he's no child. Your father couldn't control your brothers, but I refuse to let that insolent boy run us as he so pleases."

As they continued to argue, the excitement he'd first felt hearing his mother defend him quickly faded as the two began to discuss what a failure of a son he was turning out to be. Sirius listened as the two became more heated, and his mother's voice rose to the point he buried his face into his arms. Perhaps, if Pollux Black had known how to properly discipline his children then Uncle Alphard wouldn't be such a free-loading twit, and Uncle Cygnus wouldn't let his daughters make a fool out of their family. It was this and that, and how Arcturus Black would roll over in his grave if he saw how Sirius disrespected them.

"This wouldn't have happened if you'd listened to me," his mother's voice trembled. "I told you to send him to Durmstrang, but you refused! You do nothing to control him!"

"And you think you do? What good are your empty threats? No matter how much you scream, he still makes a fool out of you. My father would have already reigned him in with the Cruciatus curse."

"Thank Merlin that he's dead!"

Sirius strained his ears to hear the voices as they grew quieter, but luck had never once favored him, and this time was no different. His father once told him that a Black made his own luck but unfortunately for him, Sirius was a mediocre potioneer compared to the likes of Evans or even Snivellus for that matter. It didn't matter how much he studied; he'd never be able to match their almost natural skill at potion-making. So, brewing Felix Felicis was out of the question. Then again, what was all this money for then? If Sirius couldn't brew it in his lifetime then he'd hire someone else to do it for him. He bet that even Snivellus with those faded clothes of his would jump at the prospect of some galleons. Hunger had definitely clouded his judgement more than he thought, or why the hell would he consider hiring Snivellus, who in all honesty would probably poison him.

More time passed, and he didn't even know how much at this point. It could be ten minutes, or an hour, perhaps even a day. All Sirius knew was that it'd be another two days before he was put out of his misery. So, he did the only thing he could, Sirius gave up and curled up onto his side. All he could do now as drift off into sleep and hopefully wake up on the last day of his punishment. Deep down, Sirius knew he wouldn't die from the experience, but it was uncomfortable, nevertheless. Clenching his eyes shut, he let his mind wander to happier times – James grinning at him from across the room in detention, and Remus muffling a snort much to the chagrin of Madam Pince, and Peter stuffing his face at the Halloween feast.

Then suddenly in one quick fluid motion, the door swung wide open. The door hit the wall with a loud bang, and he winced as his head throbbed once more. Sirius looked up to see his father towering over him with a smile that he could describe as viciously smug. That was the smile of a man who knew nothing of compassion. By that point, however, he didn't even have any energy to glare at his father.

"What did I say, Walburga?" His smile twisted even further, and it took everything Sirius had in him to not flinch at his father's approach. Orion Black knelt down and with a not so gentle touch, he ran his fingers through Sirius's dirty knotted hair. "Disgusting. You see, everything's fine. The little whelp was sleeping on the floor. He must have picked up that nasty habit with all those mudbloods."

25 June 1975

St. Mungo's Hospital for Magical Maladies and Injuries (Fourth Floor)

Pure dread was the only way that Sirius could describe what was creeping up his spine. Upon waking, the first thing he noticed was the uncontrollable shaking in his hands. The tremors only grew more violent as he tried to pull himself up from the hospital bed. Not only that, but his entire body ached like he'd been whacked silly by the Whomping Willow. Was this how Davey Gudgeon had felt? Now, Sirius regretted taunting him after the boy nearly lost his eye. Perhaps, this was some sort of divine punishment for always going after Snivellus, or Gudgeon and all those other nameless students he didn't bother to remember.

Though, in retrospect, it could be far worse. He was still alive, after all. That couldn't be said for every poor sap dosed with a defective love potion. He could finally see clearly again, and it seemed like Sirius still had all his organs intact. Well, not that he had much experience with missing an organ in the first place.

He leaned back and took in his surroundings, the washed-out blue walls, scratchy starched sheets, and a pot of wilting lilies by his side. Sirius wondered who'd brought the flowers, it surely hadn't been his family if his memory served him right. They weren't the sentimental type, and besides his father certainly blamed him for the incident. As he sat there deep in thought, it all came back to him – slowly at first, but then it hit him with such force that bile crawled up his throat.

Lily Evans. Snivellus. A cleverly hidden love potion. Public humiliation not just in front of his classmates, but the entire English wizarding world.

What an utter mess! There went any chance of spending the summer with James. However, the worst part of it all was that the culprit could be anyone from someone close to him like Marlene McKinnon to a complete stranger like that heavy-set Slytherin girl who stared at him in Transfiguration. At the end of the day, it didn't matter who had done the dirty deed. What mattered now was that whoever had done this to him was not only a conniving hag (that he'd gladly hex into oblivion) but also an idiot for failing to do it right.

While he'd been drifting in-and-out of consciousness, Sirius had spoken to a mousy square-jawed woman by the name of Healer Braxton. She'd met his confused glance head on when giving him his diagnosis. The love potion had failed spectacularly and in her decade of experience, she'd never seen a love potion so badly brewed that it required immediate hospitalization. Not only did it nearly take his kidney out, but it had almost killed him. Had his treatment been delayed for another ten minutes, then Sirius wouldn't be here stewing in his own misery.

From what he could gather, his mind in a last-ditch attempt to retain some sanity had hand-selected his target of affection. Though in all seriousness, he would have never pegged Lily Evans as his first and only choice. Picking Evans had stumped him, their mutual dislike for one another was palpable, and it was so obvious to anyone with a brain (minus James) that the two would never get along. But considering how often he listened to James go on and on about her, maybe it wasn't that shocking after all.

Frankly speaking, Sirius didn't like her in the slightest, but at least it comforted him to know that out of all the girls who could've almost killed him with a botched love potion, Lily Evans was most decidedly not that person. The redhead was a mini-Slughorn in the making, so if Evans had truly wanted to enslave his mind then she would have done it right the first time. None of this "excessive amounts of pearl dust" nonsense.

What also gave it away as the look of abject horror on her face when he'd knelt to profess his eternal love for her. All he could remember were her green eyes burning with something akin to anger and the slightest hint of worry. As for what happened next, he couldn't say for sure because he'd lost consciousness and smacked his face against the pavement with a loud splat. He could already feel the bruise begin to form on his cheek, and the skin around his eyes stung whenever he lightly touched it. Why they hadn't given him Bruisewort Balm yet was beyond him.

Though all things considered, it had to be his mother's doing. He needed a reminder of what he'd done lest Sirius forget it by the time the hag finished concocting whatever cruel punishment she deemed fit this time. And what served better as a reminder than actual physical pain? Maybe she'd get around to using the Cruciatus curse as she'd promised to do over Yuletide and the summer before that.

Or worse, maybe she'd lock him away again. The very thought of spending his entire summer holiday in his room sent a shiver down his back. Though horrid as it was, it didn't even break the top five for all-time worst memories. In all fairness, not all his memories of his family were terrible, but certain ones haunted him. They were so harrowing that he rarely spoke of them, not even to James who he'd shared a bed with during their second year after Sirius suffered from a grisly bout of nightmares.

Life without James would truly be miserable. Sirius would be even more miserable than he was at the moment, and that was quite telling since he had nearly croaked two hours ago. As he sat there, the question suddenly popped into his mind, where was James? He had to be around here somewhere; it just wouldn't be near-death experience without James anxiously pacing back-and-forth with his hand running through his already unruly hair. He'd worry himself sick like he did every full moon with Remus. No matter what Evans claimed, the nobility of James Potter knew no bounds. His mother with all her talk of honor had none to speak of, and if she did then it had died long before he'd even been born. Watching people suffer was one of the many pleasures she took out of life.

Sirius closed his eyes for what seemed like a minute but when he opened them again, an unexpected visitor sat at the foot of his bed. It took a moment for the younger boy to notice him and then with a frown, he said, "Do tell, Sirius, how do you manage to get yourself out of these messes?"

When did he get here? Sitting with the effortless grace only a Black could possess, his brother watched him with an almost unreadable expression. On any other day, he'd find it amusing how Regulus was still intimated to be alone with him. Just like their father, you had to know Regulus to see past the mask he'd perfected under the watchful eye of their mother. Whenever he felt skittish, Regulus would fiddle with his ring, it was subtle enough that a stranger wouldn't notice but Sirius knew him better than anyone else. There was also the fact that Regulus never met his stare. One would think that being a filthy blood traitor was contagious with how much Regulus avoided him.

"So, I'm not dead?" Sirius asked. "What a shame, and here I thought I was dead."

His brother's face fell almost instantly, confusion knitted into his furrowed eyebrows. "What are you going on about?" He paused as if contemplating the situation before him. "Do you know I am? Do you know who you are?"

Now, it was Sirius's turn to be confused. What did he mean by that?

"Do I know who you are?" Sirius repeated back dumbly. "What's the supposed to mean? Of course, I know who you are… you're my wittle baby brother. The same little brother who hasn't spoken more than three words to me in what? Eight months, if I'm counting right."

Sirius continued with a toothy grin. "Were you worried about me? I never took you as sentimental yet here you are by my deathbed. Here I was, devastated but happy at having reunited with my brother, only to find out that I'm not dead. It'd like the ending to one of those Muggle films."

"You really want to die? I'd be more than happy to fulfill your wish."

"You need a spine to be able to do that," Sirius leaned forward with an even wider grin. "So, tell me, why are you here?" At that, his brother stood abruptly and turned away from him. "Wait! Where are you going?"

"To let mother know you aren't brain dead at least not any more than usual. You see, big brother, there was concern that the love potion would… how should I put it? That it would leave you in a "perpetual state of confusion" if I'm quoting Healer Braxton right. You'd be unable to tell the difference between reality and what was in your head, but like always, you weaseled your way out of trouble. What a shame considering they'd already set up your room in Janus Thickey's ward."

"So, you were worried!"

"I just told you, you could've been left brain dead and that's all you have to say?" His brother seemed aghast at Sirius's indifference. "Contrary to what you might believe, I don't hate you. No matter how much you run around with Potter; you're still my brother and after all is said and done, blood is thicker than water."

Regulus paused. "Besides, I overheard mother's plan for you. It wouldn't have fixed your broken mind, but I suppose a living puppet is better than nothing. An actual human puppet, devoid of any free will. Not even I would wish that on you."

"Come again?" Sirius paled and felt a cold sweat break out on his forehead. This was exactly the reason he didn't like spending time with his family. You never knew when one of them was dredging up illegal dark rituals.

"She couldn't let you become an invalid at the ripe age of fifteen. Just imagine the gossip, I bet it would even make the Prophet," Regulus said with a grin as if in on a joke. "Try not to move too much, and you know what? If I were you, I'd behave a little more."

His brother turned to leave, and there was a spring in his step. Disturbing, to say the least, but not completely unexpected. Another year in Slytherin had made his brother just a tad cattier, but he was still the same snot-nosed brat he was last year. Nothing would change that, so why should Sirius let it bother him?

"If I was a Potter, where would I be?" Sirius mumbled to himself. Determination filled him with newfound strength, and he waited what seemed like half an hour before wrenching the sheets off of him. With a groan, he swung his legs over the side of the bed but froze still when he heard shuffling outside his door.

It could be Regulus or worse their mother. The noise faded away and Sirius tensed in anticipation as he inched his way closer to the edge. He'd never been the type of person to stay still and wait to see what happened, and these circumstances were no different. What he needed to do was find James and tell him… tell him what? That he wasn't dead, nor was he dying anytime soon? The only thing he knew for a fact was that he needed to explain the Evans incident. Where to begin? Well, he wasn't in his right mind when he'd knelt at the platform. Evans was tolerable at best, a necessary pest in his life. She was far better than the throng of girls that followed them around, but not by much if you asked him.

He stood up and the world began to spin again. The burning in his chest intensified as he wobbled forward and took his first step. Just one step at a time. Conquer and persevere as you've always done. This can't be any worse than falling off your broom. The door was so close, yet so far that it felt like an eternity for Sirius to reach the door handle. With a gasp, he gripped it tightly. He just needed that last burst of energy, and he'd be free and out of reach from his mother's claws.

He steadied himself before turning the handle. Slowly, now. Sirius propped the door open, pushing it with one arm while the other wrapped around his aching midriff. It was wide enough for him to stick his head out and glance out into the hallway. He hadn't come this far for some Healer to send him back to bed.

Holding his breath, he stepped outside with a grin. See that wasn't too hard.

As soon as he thought those words, Sirius tumbled to the floor. This time around, he couldn't find the strength to get back up. Sirius, you aren't invincible. Stop being stupid. Just what he needed, a grumpy Remus to remind him of the obvious.

He leaned back against the wall and sunk further down until he was nearly laying on the ground. If he was going to be stuck out there, then at least he would do it comfortably. Sirius looked around, hoping to see a Healer turn the corner, but no one came. Sirius snorted to himself as he thought of the poor soul who'd have the misfortune of coming across him. With how pale he likely was, Sirius bet the entire Black fortune that he looked like a corpse. A handsome corpse at least. Then again, he shouldn't encourage that kind of thinking, you never knew where a necrophiliac was lurking about.

With nothing else to do, he looked up at the ceiling. Wonderful, he could count tiles until someone stumbled across his sprawled-out body.

Sixty. Sixty-one. Sixty-two. Sixty-three. Sixty-four. Sixty-five. Sixty-six. Sixty-seven. Sixty-eight. Sixty-nine. Seventy. That's not right. Start over. One. Two. Three. Four. Five. Six.

"What are you doing?"

"Just lying here," Sirius peered up, but the fluorescent light blinded him from seeing anything but a shadowy figure. "You know, the usual."

The figure sighed and it echoed through the empty hallway. "We can't leave you alone. You're like a child who needs constant supervision." Oh, Sirius knew that voice. He knew that voice very well. "Get up. This isn't a game."

"You think I like lying on the floor? It's dirty."

His father knelt to look at him, and if it weren't for how dizzy Sirius felt, he would have tried to avoid the hand that reached out to grab him. His father was treating him like an aggravated dragon that would attack at the smallest provocation. "What a pleasant surprise," his father said softly. "I thought you enjoyed lying on the floor like some common tramp."

His hand brushed up against the bruise on Sirius's cheek. "Did you fall?"

"I didn't do it on purpose," Sirius said angrily. Like all things in life, there's a limit. There's a limit on how much firewhiskey a man should drink in a day. There's a limit on how many times James could ask Evans out without having a curse flung into his face. This was no different, there was a limit on how long Sirius could be in his family's presence without starting a fight. Arguing came to him almost as naturally as quidditch did, which surely meant he'd inherited from one of them. If he had to guess, it'd be his mother who never passed on a confrontation, especially if it was Aunt Lucretia. That woman was the only other person (besides him) that could rile his mother up to the point where she needed to go lie down. But just like the rest of them, Lucretia Black was mad. The last time he'd seen her was last summer when she'd gone on for an entire day about his mother's time as a duelist. She had the temper for it, but Sirius doubted that it was true. However, one never knew when Aunt Lucretia was telling the truth. Most of her tales drove his mother insane, which was why Aunt Lucretia was his favorite relative beside Uncle Alphard.

"Don't be impertinent, boy." The man said with no actual force. If anything, he sounded exasperated as if he was dealing with an unruly child. Grey eyes watched him as if expecting Sirius to flee right there and then. "Must we have a repeat of last year?"

"Are you going to help me up?" Sirius spat at him. Shit, he didn't mean to sound so hostile. "Did you come to bask in my misery? Forgive me, but I'm not exactly in the mood for whatever this is."

His father's lordship ring grazed his forehead and without even thinking, Sirius flinched and hit his head against the wall. At this, his father let out what sounded like a soft chuckle, but Sirius could never be too sure with him. "Do you think me so callous that I would hit you?"

Without missing a beat, Sirius replied. "Yes."

"Honesty does not suit you," his father said coolly. "I'm not a savage or a Muggle. I wouldn't have to resort to such primitive methods. Besides, you nearly lost your life today. And if I did anything of the sort, your mother would throw a fit."

"So, if I hadn't nearly died," Sirius snarled. "You would? How fucking kind of you."

His father's eyes turned colder, they looked like death. "Now, boy, what did we say about your language?" A hand grabbed Sirius's chin roughly. "Do you enjoy being punished? I see no other reason for you to antagonize us at every turn. Every year, you come back worse, and I'm beginning to think you do it for your mother's attention. If that's not it, then why else would you continue to act like a fool? Even a dog has more sense than you."

With a grim smile, he continued. "If I truly wanted to keep you at heel, I would have done so long ago. We both know the only thing keeping me from doing so is your mother. You wouldn't last a day without her."

"You must…"

"Go cry to your mother," his father sighed. "We all know that's what you do best."

The audacity of that man baffled him. Sure, it was true that at one point in his life, Sirius's mother had been protective of him. There was the time that his father had nearly flailed him for letting Regulus take his toy broom for a ride. How was it his fault that Regulus did the only thing he wasn't supposed to do? Let go and split his head open. If anyone was at fault, it was their governess's fault for not watching them. But did it matter what he thought? It didn't back then, and it evidently didn't matter now.

That day was like a fever dream he hoped to forget. His father had whipped his wand out with a scowl before his mother swooped in with the precision of a lady. She took six-year-old Sirius into her arms and let out a scream. "Are you mad?" For once, her fury had not been directed at him. So, he milked it for all it had – he'd buried his head into her shoulder, letting his mother's comforting scent wash over him.

It was a pathetic memory and truthfully that's all it was, just a memory. There was no time turner to go back and relive his semi-normal behavior. Then again, that was being generous, in no way was his childhood normal. Unless somehow being a bigot was something every child had to learn at home, only to then unlearn because they realized that was absolutely ridiculous and pointless. Hating someone for being a half-blood, or a Muggleborn never made any sense to him even as a child. Sirius's moment of clarity had cost him a brother, and a cousin, and another (albeit unstable) cousin, and even his own mother. All he had now was James, Remus, and Peter. The green light at the end of the dock, the unwavering faith that things would get better eventually. How utterly poetic of him. Another thing that Orion Black was right about, those Muggle books had made him an emotional sap.

"I don't cry to her…" exhaustion was creeping up on him but he refused to sleep until he disproved his father's statement. First of all, he didn't cry behind his mother, it happened once and that's all it took for his father bequeath him the title of mummy's boy. He wasn't Peter for Merlin's sake! And he definitely wasn't Regulus! If anyone needed a lecture, it was Regulus, icky little Reggiekins who still went crying to their mother at the slightest inconvenience. Anything could set his little brother off. Whether it be a brilliant prank – sending a cloud of rain to follow Snivellus around – meticulously planned by him and James, or a quick snog with a Muggleborn witch in the Three Broomsticks, it all ended with a letter to their mother. Almost hitting Regulus with a bludger during a match resulted in not just a letter (which he'd burned in the fireplace) but also a howler. He'd made the mistake of believing it was just another letter, and it all happened so quickly that he didn't have time to process it. One moment, he was scarfing down breakfast and the next, he was running out of the Great Hall as fast as his legs could carry him. While he ran to save his dignity, Regulus sat with a huge grin on his face at the Slytherin table.

"Please continue."

"You're such a hypocrite," he mumbled. Sirius was tired, so very tired, and his eyelids fluttered as he struggled to stay awake. He was fighting a losing war and that was made evident by how blurry his father had become. "You want a real mummy's boy? Look no further than Reggiekins."

Sirius closed his eyes for the third time that day. "Un-fucking-believable."

"Go to sleep." His father ordered, and so he did. As he drifted back into a deep sleep, Sirius thought he heard his father say something, but he wasn't sure, and he really didn't care either. Sirius had said his piece and that was enough. No one could call him a mummy's boy while Regulus was skulking around the corner.

"You think I don't know about Regulus. Little princes who hide behind their mother's skirt. If only my father was alive to see what our family has become."