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Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter.

A/n: Hey guys! All right, new chapter, hope it's good! Thanks to all my reviewers, I appreciate everything you all say, and I try to listen to any suggestions or comments.

Special thanks to my wonderful friend, Dogstar'n'Lionheart, who is always helping me, and is a wonderful friend and writer! Check out some of her stories, they're beautifully written, I promise:D

Here it goes:

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The portrait hole opened. Grey eyes shot up from under the fringe of black hair. Dumbledore walked in the Gryffindor common room with a sad smile on his face. Sirius just sat on the edge of an overturned coach, wearing his ripped jeans and baggy hooded sweatshirt.

His mother never bought him clothes, so he had always had to scrape up enough to buy some on his own. He had been wearing his only pair of jeans everyday since the end of term, and tried to keep them as clean as possible, but they were still worn down and ripped. Sirius had found his sweatshirt on a bench in downtown London one day, it was a few sizes too big, and the blue color had washed out quite a bit, but it was something he could wear, and for that he was thankful.

Dumbledore stopped in front of him, and Sirius looked down at his feet. When the headmaster remained silent, Sirius looked up at him again. Dumbledore was still wearing that sad smile, and Sirius knew what he was going to tell him.

Once he knew he had Sirius's attention, Dumbledore cleared his throat and spoke in a quiet voice that echoed in the empty common room.

"Sirius, I'm sorry. James's father took him home a little while ago, and I'm assuming he didn't say goodbye?" At Sirius's nod, he continued. "Listen to me. I know this is hard for you. I know that you wanted to go with James, but I think I've got a plan for you. I've found a nice, single mother, who is willing to let you stay with them for a while. She's only about twenty two, so she's quite busy with her baby, but she said she'd be glad to help you for awhile."

Sirius almost gaped at Dumbledore. What was he thinking, leaving him unsupervised with a twenty two year old women? Was he crazy? Probably. Sirius thought to himself as a slight smirk formed on his face.

Dumbledore either didn't see it or pretended that he didn't notice. "I'll expect you in my office at eight tomorrow morning. For now, get some sleep, and relax."

Dumbledore turned around and walked towards the portrait hole. At the entrance he stopped, but didn't turn around.

"Oh, and Sirius? Don't worry about James. I'm sure he's fine. After all, he's with his dad."

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It was a rather small house in a lower middle class neighborhood, but you could tell that it was cared for. The white paint was peeling slightly off of the walls, and the steps needed a fresh coat of paint, but it was all together a well cared for place. – Chapter 2

The front door slammed shut. Scott stalked past his living room with James in tow. He continued on to the kitchen, and opening a cupboard, grabbed a bottle of firewhiskey. He cracked it open, and downed the entire thing in a minute, flat.

James stood by the door, not sure what to do. His father had his back turned to him as he chugged his firewhiskey, and his hand shot out into the air, signaling for James to sit at the kitchen table.

James silently approached the small, old, kitchen table, and sat down in one of the wobbly seats. He looked around at the small kitchen, desperately avoiding his father's eyes. The shabby yellow wallpaper was peeling at the corners, and the counters were faded due to the years of use. The kitchen table was small, and sunk slightly with the weight of all the junk Scott had piled on top of it, and the chairs were dull and creaky.

James remembered how it was before his mum had left them. He would wake up to the smell of breakfast cooking, and his bedroom would be bright and sunny, and then he would walk down the hall to the sight of his mother cooking bacon on the stove, here hazel eyes shining brightly, and the light shining just right on her hair and face. It was somewhat of a dream to James now, it just seemed so unrealistic to wake up with his mother there.

Nowadays when he woke up, it was to the sound of the front door slamming shut and the click of cheap high heels strutting out the door. No dream, just reality.

Scott turned around abruptly, jerking James out of his daydreams. He still had the empty firewhiskey bottle in hand, as a threat, James knew.

Scott walked over to James until he was literally a few inches in front of him, causing James to have to bend his neck up to look at his father's face. Scott sneered down at him, and suddenly shot out the sentence. The verdict. The punishment. Call it what you want, but it was still going to hurt.

"Get out there, and do sixty suicides. Then, I want you to do thirty laps around the pitch on the broom, and do fifty practice shots. No messing around or I'll mess up your face. Got it?" Scott spit out in his slightly slurred voice.

James nodded, and was met with a blow to his head. "You'll answer me when I speak to you. What, does the cat have your tongue?" Scott mocked in a high voice.

"Yes, sir." James answered quickly, trying to ignore the mocking words and the ache of the hit.

"Good. Then get your arse out there. I'll be watching you, so don't try anything funny."

James stood up and walked out the back door before his father could say anymore. He jogged down the back steps, and walked straight into the backyard. It was large, with a large amount of trees blocking it from any of the nearby neighbors views. There were two goal posts on either end, and a small bench on the ground in between the posts for Scott to sit on when he watched James.

James sighed and started on his sixty suicides. He had been doing this for years, muggle training, but he hated it. He started at one goal post, and his first stop was in the middle of the pitch, where the bench was. His last stop was at the other goal post, and then he had to run back. And repeat sixty times.

When James was finished, he was panting so hard the he could barely breath. He hadn't done those since last summer, and his body wasn't used to so much running. All he really wanted to do was collapse in the grass and take a long nap, but he knew his father was likely to be watching him. The last thing he needed was Scott coming out here and "helping" him.

So James struggled over to the old shed behind the house right under the kitchen window. As James opened the door, he looked up at the window, only to be met with his dad's face right up close to the glass staring at him with a smirk on his face. Scott mouthed "Hurry up!" and made frantic hand motions as if he was having a panic attack. James just looked up at him, hatred burning in his eyes, as sweat poured off of his face. Scott laughed, and James roughly grabbed the old broom out of the shed.

He walked slowly back to the pitch, and mounted his broom. He felt the soaring feeling in his stomach, and he raced to do his thirty laps. Once he was finished those he slowly did his practice shots, being careful not to miss any, yet to be far enough away that his dad couldn't yell at him for making it too easy.

As James finished up, he began to feel the soaring feeling of being up in the air, away from his problems, fly away. He was going to have to go back inside that kitchen, with his dad, and receive his sure punishment. The flying had only been so Scott could wear James out enough that he wouldn't fight back when the physical fight came.

James sighed, and soared back to the ground, back to cruelty, back to violence, back to reality. Back to his life.

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A/n: Sorry to stop so suddenly, but I need some ideas for Sirius's new "roommates" name. Need names for her daughter and her. First and last. Anyone like Darcie? Delia? Help!

Did you all like it? Is Scott how you imagined him? Let me know in a review.

Thanks,

MilyMB