I know that today is Lily Evans-Potter's birthday but I've been so overcome with grief about how shitty Sirius's life is, (possibly because of this chapter) that I have not been able to properly celebrate. Actually - no - it is because of this chapter so...

WARNING: Child abuse that may induce extreme anger and slight depression (unless you don't like Sirius. That's possible, right?) No joke there's legit child abuse here. Proceed with caution.

Chapter 22 Summer chapter 1

It was a pivotal summer, the summer of 1974 for the whole of the, now, fourth year Gryffindors. For the girls, it was full of firsts; a first kiss, a first loss, a first fight, a meeting. For the boys, however, this summer held nothing special. There were no real firsts for them, but still, lessons were learned.

Sirius Black was greeted on the platform, as usual, by his house elf, Kreacher. Kreacher apparated him and his brother back to Grimmauld Place. Regulus went dutifully off to the drawing room to be welcomed home by his parents and any guest they might have. As usual, Sirius went to his bedroom, careful not to be seen. He stripped himself of his clothes as Kreacher drew a bath for him. He entered the steam-filled bathroom and tried not to breath in too deeply or else he'd choke on the foul smell they used for an antibacterial soap. Sirius had a sickening instinct that it was ammonia.

Before he even touched the water his eyes stung and his throat burned. His skin instantly flared up in response to the hot temperature. He tried to show no signs of pain as Kreacher scrubbed his skin with a bleached rag, knowing that if he did it would only change Kreacher's rant from his disappointing and embarrassing his parents with this year's escapades to a rant about his deserving what he got for having 'filthy mudblood' friends. By the time Kreacher was done scrubbing his skin raw, Sirius had open sores along his legs and backside. He stepped out so Kreacher could drain the water.

Finally allowed to be alone Sirius stepped into the cooling relief that was his shower. The water pelted and soothed his tense and throbbing muscles. His burning sores began to heal as the chemical was rinsed off of him. Knowing that if he waited too long Kreacher would come for him, he wrapped himself in a towel.

Kreacher was waiting for him. His dress robes were already prepared and laid out for him on his bed. Kreacher stood beside a wooden chair, dittany clutched in one hand and hair clippers in another. Sirius sighed, heavily but made no other signs of protest, knowing that if he did his mother would be called. He dropped the towel on the floor and grasped the back of the chair to allow Kreacher to drop the dittany onto his wounds. He braced himself for what was to come. The clear liquid splashed onto him, spreading a tingling cooling sensation through one of the sores then the burning returned only for it to subside to a light sting and finally it became numb then Kreacher moved to the next. His muscles tensed again and he clenched his jaw, trying to keep his moans silent. When Kreacher announced he was finished Sirius gasped, not realising he had been holding his breath.

"Sit in the chair Master Sirius, and remember if you wiggle too much Kreacher might accidently cut off your ear," Kreacher croaked and laughed though Sirius swore he could hear a hopeful note in the house elf's voice. Sirius watched as Kreacher reached out with boney twitchy fingers for the hair clippers. He switched it on and the vibrations seemed to shake the house elf's entire skinny body, though his hand was steady. He used an empty crate to reach his master's head. Sirius watched as the clippers grew slowly nearer but shut his eyes tightly before it reached his scalp, not wanting to watch as his hair fell from his head. He gripped the edge of his chair as the vibrations came closer to his left ear anticipating the sting of the razor's blades as Kreacher continued his earlier rant over the clippers hum. Sirius thought bitterly of not having to hear the elf's voice again if he did cut his ears off. Just one unanticipated twitch would do it. But, alas, the elf finished his task before Sirius really decided to do it. Sirius sat awkwardly still as he allowed Kreacher to brush bits of hair from his naked skin. Sirius lurched to his feet as Kreacher reached for the broom and rushed to his dress robes.

This is where things ended. This is where he was allowed to go and do whatever he wanted as long as he stayed out of his parent's way. Relief radiated through him. He shamed himself for it. He should be used to this by now. He should be stronger and not let it bother him. It didn't matter, it was over now and he just needed to get out and away from that damned elf.

"Mistress would like to see you in the office," Kreacher croaked. Sirius froze, his hand clutching the door handle, his throat tightened and chest compressed. 'The office' was a room the Black children thoroughly tried to avoid. It was a room, in the words of his parents, 'for contemplation, punishment, and redemption.' It was the office that led to his 'cleansing' in first year when he announced he met a boy named James Potter and his frequent hair cuts after he disappeared to the same boy's house just last Christmas. He should have expected it with Kreacher muttering about shame and embarrassment. You do not embarrass the Blacks.

"I think I'll just pop down to the kitchen for a light snack before I go," Sirius said, lightly. He opened the door and attempted to flee without hearing Kreacher's protest.

"Kreacher has been ordered to see that Master Sirius goes to the office directly after his cleansing, no exceptions," Kreacher said, grasping Sirius by the end of his robes. He allowed Kreacher, with a small fist pressed to his lower back, to lead him to the office.

"Will you bring me something?" Sirius asked desperately before Kreacher could shut the door. He already felt his hunger gnawing at him.

"No," the elf spat and disapparated quickly before Sirius could order him to. Sirius shut the door and turned to face the office.

It was a round room decorated entirely with wood. There was no window and no fireplace. There was one high-backed chair that sat behind the large desk with an oil lamp on top of it, offering the only source of light. The punished were to never touch the chair so, every time Sirius was sent to the office, he would kneel on the floor and his eyes would shift uncomfortably in search for something to latch onto in this plain room. He eyed the only bit of decoration in the place. It was a picture of a wizard, a very old wizard that Sirius always assumed to be Merlin until he had to look at it again. While he remembered the painting, he always seemed to forget that it was in there. When his eyes eventually found it, he was jolted with surprise. He would scan the painting, taking in the details and then think to himself Merlin could never look so cruel.

Sirius was always amazed that his parents would have such a painting. It seemed to be half muggle, because the wizard, whoever he was, never moved. He never blinked, his chest never gave any signs of respiration. He was still as stone. Only the leaves on the bushes behind him rustled in the wind and occasionally a shadow would flick between the trees. Perhaps the wizard wasn't enchanted to move but instead was charmed to make the viewer be overcome by immense guilt because that is what happened whenever Sirius would meet the cold, dark eyes of the wizard in the portrait. Despite his discomfort, he could not move, he could scarcely blink lest he break eye contact with the wizard. Then the guilt would sneak it's way through him, starting in the pit of his stomach like an unpleasant custard. Then his memories would flood his mind and suddenly he was repulsed by himself. Thinking of everything he's done in the past three years made him physically ill.

Sirius did not know how long he was left in the office nor how long he had been staring at the wizard, but when his mother finally entered, she carried a lantern and the hall was very dark behind her. Sirius trembled with hunger. His knees ached and felt like they were bleeding. His throat stung and his mouth was dry like he had vomited repeatedly. His cheeks were wet and his eyes sore. And though he was finally able to look away from the wizard on the wall his guilt and repulsion still pulsed through him.

"I'm sorry mother," a weak, pitiful, hoarse voice erupted from Sirius's mouth. It surprised him.

"If you were sorry you wouldn't have done it," she replied, her voice was unreadable. His mother had yet to face him so he kept his eyes on her back, measuring her actions. She was sure to strike, the trouble was knowing when. Sirius cleared his throat before talking, taking care to keep his voice steady.

"I wasn't thinking. I just-"

"You never think Sirius, that's your problem." His mother whipped around to face him at last. Her narrow eyes searched his face. "You surround yourselves with people who are beneath you in every way, and look at what happens." Sirius flinched and recoiled. "You don't see Regulus acting like this. I'm just glad he hasn't followed in your footsteps."

Sirius was at a loss for words. So, he stayed silent, still on his knees in front of his mother surveying him.

"Your father thinks we should take you out of school." His mother paused, watching him as varying expressions crossed his face. He carved his face into a stony mask. The guilt was still in him but it was slowly being overcome by a desperate desire to remain at Hogwarts, with his friends, where he had complete control over his life. "I think," she continued, mistaking his mask for acceptance, "that there might still be hope for you. So you will remain, but only if you join the Slug Club with your brother."

"So, is that to be my punishment?" asked Sirius finally felt the familiar flame of anger burst through him. The corners of his mother's mouth twitched in amusement succeeding in angering him more.

"No, your father requested I leave that to him. You'll wait for him in your bedroom after you go to the kitchen for something to eat," she answered, looking at the blank wall behind them. Sirius caught a spark in her eyes that sent chills through him and had him questioning what his father was intending to do. "Do you understand what is expected of you?"

"I'll join the Slug Club with my brother," Sirius recited, his mind wandering elsewhere.

"And the mudbloods?"

"I will keep them in their proper place." He felt his mouth form the words but the words had no meaning and only had the effect of bringing a vile taste to his mouth. Had he learned to survive the office?

"I don't want to hear any more about them. Not even Potter. Understood?" Sirius nodded. This was something easily done. "Go to the kitchen and eat quickly. I don't want your father to have to wait for you." Sirius stood, his knees wobbled with the effort, and he walked out of the office without glancing back at his mother.

It was evening now and the whole house seemed to be asleep. He skipped down the stairs careful not to make too much noise and entered the kitchen. A place was set on the table baring only bread and water. He didn't feel very hungry anymore, anyway. Despite his mother's warning, he ate slowly, taking his time to prepare himself for what was to come. Was there a potion that could help him subside the pain? What was it that Remus took before the full moon? Something with Meadowsweet? That was no use. He doubted his parents would have Meadowsweet and it certainly wasn't in his potions set. He gulped down the water, already having wasted enough time picking at the bread crumbs on his plate.

"No point in delaying the inevitable, Black," he said to himself, more to give himself courage than anything else. He made his way back up the stairs and to his bedroom. He shut his door with a light click and sat on his bed, staring at the door handle, waiting for his father's arrival.

CrazyFangirl100, thank you, once again for being awesome! I know I usually update much more quickly but I had to make sure everything was in order. That and I've been avoiding this chapter. Sorry!

Pran, I'm glad you liked my story. I hope you still do.

HAPPY BIRTHDAY LILY EVANS

I am so mad because I was rereading HBP and Dirk Cresswell is younger than the marauders! I could go back and just change his name I suppose. but I don't want to because I like his character and now every time I hear the name Dirk Cresswell I'm going to think of him like this, no matter what. So screw cannon!

This chapter made me want to cut off my own head, then burn Walburga and Orion Black alive, and then wrap Sirius in a giant fluffy blanket and hold him until all of his problems go away (yes in that order.) How was it for you guys? I hope you don't hate me for torturing Sirius. It's not my fault (it kinda is) I was going off of the cannon material.

That being said: All rights reserved to JKR

XO