This drabble is written for the Prophet challenge We Got Locked Down!
Prompt: Freedom
Word count: 924
Enjoy reading!
The Seventh Black
His feet hit the wooden stairs with loud bangs as he ran up the stairs into his room. He needed to get out. Now. He wouldn't stay in this godforsaken hell hole longer than absolutely needed.
He kicked the door to his room closed behind him, ensuring further feeding his mother's wrath. He didn't care. He could still smell the stinging hex eating through the expensive fabric of the Black family's pedigree hanging on the wall of the lounge. His mother's cold eyes glaring his way, a satisfied aura surrounding her as she pointed her wand at her son.
He stalked over to his wardrobe and ripped open its heavy doors. He grabbed everything he could get his hands on, throwing it all into his trunk that stood in the middle of the room. He had always joked about his mother disowning him if he continued being a rebel and kept being true to himself, but jokes aside – he had always silently, or loudly, waited for her to make true to her threats.
And that time was now.
He threw the closet doors shut once it was emptied, and moved onto the picture frames he had stuck onto the wall. James, Remus and Peter grinned up at him as he cast the counter sticking charm and gently placed them on top of the heap of his clothes. Small trinkets like chocolate frog cards or drafts for the early versions of the Marauder's Map were thrown in afterwards. He wasn't worried about them being damaged or crinkled, he just didn't want his so-called mother to see any of what his life really was like.
The only things that he allowed to remain in the room he had spent most of his childhood in were Muggle posters depicting hotties in bikinis or panties, hands strategically placed in front of their upper chests, as well as various Gryffindor flags he had picked up at each Gryffindor Quidditch match.
His younger self had wanted to cover the dark and depressing wallpaper with the bright red and gold, showing his family what he thought of their way of thinking and living. Every single time he had entered his room after yet another year at Hogwarts, he had congratulated himself, seeing that his hag of a mother had not been successful in ripping his chosen decorations off the walls. He had wanted that constant mocking of what he thought of them. He never wanted them to forget that he would not bow down to any dark wizards or their point of view, no matter where or how old he was.
Never.
He pushed the lid of the trunk shut and charmed it shut. He needed to hurry. It was nearing midnight and he didn't want to wake the Potters up by showing up at their house in the middle of the night, unannounced, with his belongings in tow, disowned and homeless. He'd show up at their manor in the middle of the night anyway, but it would be way less awkward if at least one of them was still awake when he arrived.
He grabbed the handle of his trunk and dragged it out of his room. At the top of the stairs, he thought better of it and quickly sent a locking charm towards his room's door. It wasn't strong enough to keep them out of it for long, but it would certainly succeed in pissing them off.
Dragging his trunk down the stairs behind him, making sure it hit every single stair and caused a ruckus in the middle of the night, he marched towards the front door.
"YOU ARE A DISGRACE TO THE HOUSE OF BLACK!"
He groaned loudly as his mother threw open the door to the lounge and stalked towards him. "I'm no longer part of the House of Black, or have you already forgotten that?"
Slap.
Sirius ground his teeth and forced himself to stay calm. He'd be out of here soon enough, and he would never have to come back. Breathe, buddy. Breathe.
"Get out of the house!" the woman who birthed him hissed at him and pointed towards the black front door. "I don't want to see you ever again!"
"That feeling is completely mutual," Sirius smirked at the enraged woman in front of him, grabbed his trunk and opened the door. He left the prison of his childhood without looking back.
A loud crack announced his presence to the inhabitants of the huge white manor at the end of the path. Fleamont Potter had keyed him into the wards some time ago, telling him he would always be welcome to come by unannounced, just as he was doing right now.
His trunk was digging deep tracks into the softened ground as he trudged through the rain. He really hoped that the Potters would help him. He didn't know what he was supposed to do, where he was supposed to go if they wouldn't.
Reaching the big double front door, he took a deep, calming breath, and raised a trembling hand to knock on the wood. Not twenty seconds later, the left door creaked open and the surprised face of James Potter peeked out into the dark.
"Padfoot?" He sounded confused, his eyebrows drawing together as he pulled the door further open. His intelligent eyes caught sight of his friend's appearance – cheek red, jacket open and trunk in hand. A sad smile tugged at his lips as he nodded knowingly, and motioned his brother inside.
"Come on in, mate."
I hope you liked it! It's short (I mean, it's a drabble. Drabbles aren't longer than 1000 words), but it was so much fun writing it!
Until next time - see ya!