Sirius Black blinked in and out of consciousness the whole night. Then, in the early time of morning, he awoke fully to a stomach trying to eat itself inside out. Groaning, he clawed at his cramping abdomen and tried to sit up.

At first he wasn't sure where he was. It was a clean, sparsely decorated bedroom with expensive furniture and drapery. Sirius raked his eyes along the white walls until he hit the door. The handle was pure silver…

Sirius narrowed his eyes and looked to the wall opposite the bed, where the one piece of art hung: Black ash melted and sculpted into twin warring greyhounds…

Sirius's already pained stomach did a flip. This was one of the spare bedrooms at Grimmauld Place. Cautiously, he slid out of bed, woozy and wobbling on stiff legs. He ran his hands over his chest again, vaguely unsettled by the nightshirt he had no recollection of putting on himself. Blinking slowly, Sirius began to rake over his mind, searching for the last few days' worth of memories. It all came back to him painfully, like the memories were raw and tender. Sirius clutched at his temples, moaning.

Lily…

James…

His mother…

Azkaban…

His father…

And now he was here. Try as he might, Sirius could not remember much of anything before arriving at Grimmauld Place from the island prison. Though he could remember that he had wanted to come. Azkaban had been so awful and then he had been saved from it..

Once he had a handle on the ache in his mind, and he could stand a bit straighter, Sirius gave himself a more thorough once-over. He didn't seem to be injured aside from one hell of a bruise on his sternum, courtesy of his father the previous evening. He also didn't seem to be restrained in any way—magical or otherwise. Aside from his hazy memories, Sirius could feel no compulsions or painful restrictions on his thoughts or decisions and so ruled out the possibility of an imperious or the like, and when he timidly tried the door, it swung open easily.

Seeing no reason not to, Sirius set off down the hallway. He seemed to be on an upper floor. Grimmauld Place had not changed significantly since he had lived there and soon he found himself standing in front of his little brother's door way.

"Regulus?" Sirius asked softly. He felt worried. Something told him Regulus was not here, but he tried the door anyway.

It was locked and Sirius frowned. Regulus's lock had never kept him out before. Neither had the lock on Sirius's door ever denied Regulus entry. Sirius repositioned his hand and tried again, thinking perhaps the magic on the lock had faded, and it had forgotten his grip.

Still locked.

So Regulus had gone back and specifically barred Sirius from entering. That was new.

Sirius looked up a bit and saw a small plaque on the smooth wood of the door which read:

Do not enter without express permissions from Regulus Arcturus Black.

That was also new. Sirius's face contorted briefly with worry and he slunk off to his own bedroom. This room was locked as well, but not by the simple, coded lock that Sirius had put on it when he was twelve. There was instead a large padlock keeping a brace on the knob.

Now Sirius was more worried. He took the stairs down to the landing but stopped at the front door. The lights all around Grimmauld Place were dim, and the house bore no signs that anyone was home. He could probably explore a bit more unbothered, but part of him desperately wanted to get out of the house. He couldn't shake the feeling that he was being held prisoner.

Breathing heavily, Sirius reached for the front door.

It didn't budge.

Somewhat frantic now, Sirius thrashed the door around a bit, even kicking it. Eventually the handle grew hot and Sirius was blasted backwards on to the staircase, where he landed painfully.

"Young Master is not to leave the house today. The masters say he is not yet well."

Sirius scrambled to his feet and peered into the kitchen.

"K—Kreacher?" he marveled.

It was indeed the unsightly little house elf that Sirius remembered. Kreacher scuttled out from behind the stove, a suspicious look in his beady eyes.

"Young Master is not to go wandering about," Kreacher repeated. "It would be best if he returned to bed."

Sirius ignored the house elf and instead turned his attentions back to the front door. "So I'm locked inside?" he asked viciously. "And I can't get into my own bedroom..." A thought occurred to him. "How many other rooms have I been barred from entering?"

Kreacher didn't respond.

"I'm serious," Sirius threatened. But Kreacher just stared back up at him balefully for a moment before shuffling away. Left alone in his parents' kitchen with a creeping feeling of alienation washing up his body, Sirius almost shivered. He had never before wished for the company of his little brother more. Regulus would tell him what was going on. Regulus would not refuse him answers, no matter what his parents were scheming. Regulus had always been more his than his parents'.

It occurred to Sirius to check the fireplaces, thinking that he might have been able to travel via floo powder to...somewhere. Literally anywhere. But it was to no avail. He threw the powder into the main drawing room's fireplace and stepped inside, but no amount of yelling for different connected fireplaces yielded any results. Whether his parents' had found someway to code him out of the floo network or if they had simply disconnected their own fireplace, Sirius couldn't be sure. Angry, and now covered in soot, he traipsed to the upstairs bathroom, intending to bathe. The bathroom, mercifully, was not locked to him.

"Does master wish to be run a bath?" Kreacher's voice startled Sirius midway through undressing and he nearly fell over.

"Don't sneak up on me like that!" Sirius snarled. "And no, I think I can handle it on my own. Get out."

Kreacher left him alone. Breathing heavily, Sirius turned on the shower. Part of him wanted to be really fast. He felt as though he were trespassing in someone else's home. How awkward would it be for his mother or father to come home and find him in here?

While he was anxious for answers, Sirius was equally as nervous about the prospect of seeing either parent again, especially his father. There was a spark of fear present in his mind that had not been there before, or at least it seemed not to have been.

While he washed what appeared to be a week's worth of dirt and grime from his hair, Sirius tried to piece together his situation. His chest and neck were still so tender that he found himself unable to bathe in hot water, opting for a lukewarm shower instead.

Now how had he gotten here? Sirius had almost painful holes in his memory. Recollections would flit in and about his mind, disappearing before he could get a good hold on them. It was like a severe case of presque vu, everything he knew that he knew was flittering about just outside his recollection.

Wasn't he supposed to be at Hogwarts? With James?

No, that wasn't right, he'd graduated, hadn't he?

Hadn't he?

He didn't live in Grimmauld Place anymore, surely. He'd run away, right? Except maybe not. He'd regretted leaving home...so much that he had come back? Or been brought back?

"Fuck," Sirius moaned, shutting of the water. He stared at himself in the mirror for a long while. It was like looking at a photograph. He recognized himself but this couldn't truly be what he looked like now, was it?

Why had he bee in prison in the first place? Something wasn't right. Sirius threw a towel around his waist and poked his head out the bathroom door.

"Kreacher!" he screamed. "Bring me some clean clothes!" When his parents came home, he was going to talk to them and he was going to get the answers he wanted.

...hopefully Mother will come home alone, Sirius thought glumly.

Sirius had never been a lucky individual. Orion Black came home around lunch to find Sirius Black waiting for him in the kitchen.

"Sirius," Orion said curtly. He certainly didn't seem surprised to see his son awake, but there was a definite note of annoyance in his voice. "I didn't think you'd be up yet."

"Clearly you did," Sirius snapped. "Or you wouldn't have toddler-proofed all your doors."

"That was your mother, actually," Orion said. He threw his cloak across a chair and walked past Sirius to the cabinet, where he poured himself a brandy. "She's gotten a bit ahead of herself in the planning. You should still be sleeping."

"Fuck, Dad, it's 11am," Sirius snapped, eyeing his father's glass with distaste.

Orion approached him slowly. "Oh, I've nowhere else to be today," he said calmly. "I'm home for the day."

"Where's Mum?" asked Sirius, trying not to shrink under his father's gaze. "Where's Reg?"

"Your brother is at school where he belongs. You've been told that before..." Orion was now looking at Sirius curiously. Sirius shook his head.

"I don't..."

"You don't remember?" Orion asked. He shuffled about in the kitchen for a minute before bringing a small tray of leftover dinner to the table. "Sit down and eat this," he commanded.

Sirius shook his head again. "No, I..." He was starting to get a headache.

Orion pushed him into the nearest table chair and again insisted that he eat. "You might as well regain some strength if you're going to be up for a bit."

Sirius's spine tingled. "I'm not tired," he said, though it was a partial lie. He felt exhausted.

"No matter," Orion said. "Just eat for now."

"For...now?" Sirius asked, gingerly picking up some bread. "What about...after now?"

Orion raised an eyebrow but didn't answer. He seemed unconcerned with Sirius's question. "How does your head feel?" he asked. "Can you tell me what happened yesterday?"

"No," Sirius said hoarsely. He was nearly in tears. "I don't remember...what's going on."

"Hm." Orion poured himself another drink. "Well that's probably okay. I'll be in the drawing room. Come to me when you're finished eating. Don't make me wait long."

"Dad, wait," Sirius almost begged, but Orion left him alone in the kitchen and Sirius was too nervous to follow. He didn't like the way Orion was talking. It made the hairs on the back of his neck stand up.

When he was finished eating, Sirius strongly considered hiding from his father. Orion was clearly intending to put Sirius back to sleep and Sirius had no intention of submitting to that. But where could he go? Under the bed in the one spare room that was unlocked to him? No, there was nowhere to hide, and without his wand he had no hope of fighting off his father.

Fuck, he had no chance of that with his wand, not with Orion's experience and Sirius's own fatigue. No, Sirius decided his best bet was to stall. Hopefully his mother would come home or something would happen that would distract his father.

Perhaps he could talk to Orion? Did he stand any chance of his father listening?

"I told you not to keep me waiting."

Sirius started. His father had returned to the kitchen in such a casual state of dress that he must have been telling the truth earlier—he truly had no intentions of going anywhere else that day.

"I..." Sirius was at a loss for words. "What are..."

Orion walked up to where Sirius sat staring up at him and grabbed him by the biceps. "Let's go," he insisted.

"W—where?" Sirius asked, unsettled. His father had never really been one to touch, had he? It seemed to Sirius that his father had never really been comfortable being close to him before, much less grabbing ahold of him.

Right? Maybe?

"To your room," Orion answered curtly. "Well...a room, at least. Sirius, move."

Orion led Sirius back into the bedroom he'd woken up in, Sirius begging for a reprieve the whole way. When Orion tried to push him down onto the bed, Sirius found the rest of his strength and fought back for all he was worth. He managed to slip from his father's grasp but Orion shipped out his wand and slammed the door shut before Sirius could dash out it. Sirius heard the resounding click of the lock sliding into place.

"Just lay down, Sirius," Orion groused. "You'll feel better after you wake up tomorrow."

"No," Sirius insisted. "Not...not yet. Dad, can't we talk for a bit?"

Orion rolled his eyes. "I am trying to be patient with you," he said flatly. He took several careful steps closer to Sirius who, lacking anywhere to run, soon found himself backed up against the wall. "And though it is a difficult task, I am committed to it. I have no intention of talking to you about anything and lousing up all the effort that has already been expended."

Sirius eyed his father's wand desperately; Orion now had it pointed directly at his chest. "And as much as I would love to spend some quality time with you," Orion said, his voice heavy with sarcasm. "I have probably let you run amok for too long already. Now go lay down, Sirius Orion, or I will make you."

Sirius refused to move. Partly out of stubbornness and partly because his limbs felt like they had frozen up.

"I can knock you out here or there, Sirius," Orion said. "The only difference is whether or not you hit your head on the way down. So, what's it going to be? Are you going to do what I say like a good boy or are you going to be waking up tomorrow with a headache?"

Sirius slid down the wall a ways, considering his options, of which he had very few.

"I swear, Sirius, if you make me stun here, I will leave your body in a crumpled heap on this floor and you'll wake up with a pretzel for a spine."

"Stun me?" Sirius asked in a small voice. Stunning wasn't exactly a pain-free process, and if he was stunned, then he stood no chance of waking back up on his own.

"Well I'd prefer not to have to," Orion said. "I'd prefer it if you stopped cowering like a small child, got up from the floor and laid down on the bed like I asked you to. If you do this, then perhaps I could be persuaded to substitute the hexing you so clearly deserve with a potion instead."

"I...uh..."

"Oh, Sirius don't stall. It's unbecoming. Now make up your mind." Orion once again pointed his wand to Sirius's chest. Slowly, he traced a path upwards until his wandpoint rested between his son's eyes. Sirius closed his eyes, his breathing shallow.

"Dad, please. I...I don't want to go to sleep again. Please, I'll do whatever you need."

Orion frowned. "What a disgraceful display you are," he said. "Though I would be lying if I said I didn't prefer you lie this, at least around me. It's a far sight better than the tantrums you used to always pitch. Just see that this...complacency of yours doesn't leave this house."

For a moment there was deep silence.

"Do you have something to say, Sirius?" Orion demanded.

"Yes, sir," Sirius whispered.

"That's better," Orion said. "Now are you going to do as I ask?"

"Yes," Sirius relented. He was starting to shake. This whole situation was bringing back echoes of a very unpleasant memory from the recesses of his mind. Sirius could see the walls of the situation closing in on him. He had no options left. "I'll go. Don't—don't curse me, I'll go."

Orion took a step back, lowering his wand at last. "And finally we get to the desired result. Are you happy to have wasted so much of my time?"

"No, sir," Sirius said. "I'm sorry."

Orion pulled Sirius to his feet and marched him to the bed. Sirius sat down, nervously gripping at his pant leg. He felt like a small child. What was going to become of him when he eventually woke back up? How much of his mind would he retain? Sirius had no doubt that his parents were responsible for his hazy memories. He was terrified to be at their mercy again, but the look in his father's eyes didn't leave much room for interpretation.

Orion left Sirius alone for a moment while he acquired the necessary sedative. Sirius was so hopeless that he didn't even entertain the thought of trying to escape. Orion returned to see Sirius exactly as he had left him. A curious expression fell over Orion's face.

"I had half expected to find you waiting behind the door to try and club me over the head with the desk lamp," Orion scoffed. "Here, drink this."

With a shaking hand, Sirius took the vial from his father. The potion was as flat and tasteless as water. Within moments, Sirius felt his vision fog over. A second later, he crumpled onto the bed, completely unresponsive.

Sirius's father spent the rest of the day in his study, drinking and poring over some casual paperwork. He was four glasses down by half past two and didn't notice the fireplace briefly roar to life. He also didn't notice his youngest son slink down the hallway and into Sirius's bedroom. The padlock on the door he undid easily with his wand, frowning. It was not a very complicated spell.

Regulus had expected Sirius to be in his room. Mother had said he would be home and resting...perhaps he had woken up? But that would not explain why his room was locked from the outside.

Regulus knew his father was home, and so he was extra cautious around the man's study. A sort reckless daring had seized him, though. And he was not going to return to school without seeing Sirius. He had sneaked out of his potions class to do this. He was determined.

He finally found Sirius in a spare bedroom, just when he was close to conceding that Sirius had gone out somewhere. Regulus hesitated. Should he wake Sirius up? Would his brother be mad with him? Timidly, Regulus reached out to touch Sirius's shoulder. A part of him felt almost giddy. Touching Sirius was like finally finding a tangible piece of his past…of the security that his life used to possess.

Only Sirius wasn't waking up, and it was making Regulus nervous.

"Sirius?" Regulus whispered, shaking his brother a little. Why was Sirius sleeping so soundly, was he ill?

"Sirius?" Regulus asked again, now pressing quite forcefully on his brother's shoulder. When Sirius still didn't wake, Regulus actually checked to make sure he was still breathing.

A cold feeling crept up Regulus's spine. Sirius wasn't asleep, he was unconscious. Regulus looked around the room. On the nightstand was an empty vial. Regulus took it to examine the remains. Something was wrong here. Had Sirius taken a sleep potion? Curious, Regulus began to look through the bedroom. He was still confused as to why Sirius was sleeping here in the first place. None of Sirius's possessions seemed to be in the room. In fact the room was barren. The Blacks hadn't been entertaining many guests lately.

Regulus was about to leave when he casually checked the desk drawer and found something: papers. Intrigued, he pulled them out. They were charts...in his mother's handwriting. Mental charts.

If Regulus was good at one class in school, it was Divination. He was more than familiar with the general layout of a magical mental landscape. These diagrams were intense, and much above the level Regulus had ever encountered, but he was definitely aware of what they were.

Something was clicking into place that Regulus didn't like. Earlier he had asked his mother if Sirius truly wanted to come home; the idea had seemed ludicrous to him. But here was the evidence right in front of him. With creeping horror, Regulus started to realize that Sirius had not returned to Grimmauld of his own free will and by the looks of it, Walburga Black was midway through an intense memory modification process.

Regulus felt a stab of anger at his parents. This was completely beyond unacceptable. Did his mother really think this would work? Sirius would never be tamed by measures like these. Regulus felt that if his parents were crazy to think a scheme like this would work. If anything, they were just risking brain damaging their oldest son.

He should stop this. Regulus couldn't allow this to happen, could he? It was wrong. It was wrong to keep Sirius here against his will. But what could Regulus really do? Sirius had already been here for a day, their mother had clearly already begun working on him. And maybe...maybe it would work. Sirius could be theirs again.

Regulus bit down hard on a fingernail. Did he want this or not? He should get going soon, he couldn't allow his father to catch him at home.

Something else clicked in Regulus's mind. Sirius had been placed in this room so that when he woke up, nothing in his surroundings would remind him of memories their parents no longer wanted him to have. Regulus stood up abruptly, an idea in his head. As quietly as possible, he dashed back to Sirius's room. Frantically he grabbed anything that looked useful—photographs, old letters, trinkets, anything small and relatively flat that looked like it might have meaning to Sirius. Five minutes later, he was dashing back to Sirius's side, a small, metal key in his hand. Blood pounding in his ears, Regulus opened his brother's shirt. Carefully, he slid the key into Sirius's inside pocket. Then he ran for his life.