Year of the Wolf

10. Black

Regulus didn't speak to him for days. Not that Sirius had anything to say to him. It was his own fault, really, for thinking that the holidays couldn't possibly get much worse.

'Thank you, Regulus dear,' cooed Walburga as her youngest son helped her place the last of the cushions in the drawing room. 'Sirius, are you actually going to help? Or are you just going to stand there making the place look untidy?'

Sirius shrugged in a non-committal way. Anything he did help with, she'd just have Regulus re-do. It was easier just to stand there in the corner and do nothing. Her responding glare was softened by the appearance of Kreacher with a tray of refreshments and she lowered herself onto the nearby settee.

'Thank you, Kreacher, my sweet,' she said as she helped herself to a cup of tea, returning to her disapproving stare after the first sip. 'If you're not going to make yourself useful, why don't you sort yourself out? You look horrendous. Comb your hair and change out of that horrific outfit!'

He looked down at the clothes he was wearing and felt a little offended. He thought he had dressed rather respectably today, but obviously not.

'Bellatrix will be stopping by soon,' said Orion as he entered the room. 'The others will be arriving later. Mother and father won't make it until tomorrow morning. Have you heard from Alphard?'

'He will be arriving early tomorrow,' said Walburga. 'Dreadfully unreliable that man, he was supposed to arrive with Cygnus.'

Orion studied Sirius closely as he passed, and he tried not to meet his father's judgemental eye.

'Did you shave this morning?' he asked. Sirius nodded. 'Did you comb your hair?' Another nod, and the biting back of sarcasm. 'You need it cut, it's getting far too long.'

'Lucius's hair is long,' Sirius pointed out. 'Lots of wizards grow their hair long - mine's short in comparison.' It was true - it didn't even reach his shoulders. It was hardly much longer than Regulus's.

'Lucius looks elegant. You, on the other hand, look like a delinquent.'

'I am a delinquent.'

Orion's eyes widened and his nostrils flared.

'Don't start with me today, boy,' he warned.

Sirius shook his head and closed his eyes. The family wasn't even here yet and he'd already had enough.

'They are coming for you,' Walburga reminded him bitterly. 'This is your opportunity to show them all that you are the worthy heir of this family. I expect you to behave yourself, to keep your opinions to yourself and generally just keep your mouth shut and not embarrass us, if that isn't too much to ask.'

He slumped back against the wall, clutching his arms. There was a renewed tremor in his hands, like something was rattling round inside of him, desperate to get out.

'I don't even want to be here,' he said. 'Nobody else wants me here either. Why didn't you just let me stay at Hogwarts?'

Walburga's cup hit the saucer with an audible clink in the silence that descended. He even heard Regulus exhale slowly.

'Orion, darling, you take this,' she said, pressing a hand to her forehead.

Getting him to do her dirty work. So typical. Orion gripped his son by the shoulder and pushed him into the centre of the room.

'You have a duty to your family!' he seethed. 'You have a duty to our name. You will not cower away from it in that school. You embarrassed us enough with your Sorting, you will not further shame our name by shying away from what is expected of you.'

'And what exactly is expected of me, father?' He embraced the fury, let loose the thing that clawed for freedom. 'To marry well and raise little racist pureblood brats like Regulus?'

'You leave your brother out of this!' Walburga roared, rising to her feet. 'He is a much better son than you, he respects his family and knows what is due of him.'

'Oh, I know what is due of me. I'm supposed to blindly hate others and take some pureblood toff as my wife or risk being married to my cousin like the two of you. My condolences, by the way, Orion.'

He felt the impact of the strike through his entire body. His cheek burned, even his neck ached from the force of the slap. Something warm trickled down his cheek - his father's ring had broken the skin.

'GO TO YOUR ROOM!' Walburga screeched. 'GET OUT OF MY SIGHT!'

Where was James, to be proud of him, he wondered as he stormed up the stairs? Because he knew he should have felt proud at that, felt that it was worth it (and indeed, he resolved to not wipe the blood from his cheek), but he felt little other than the beast that swirled in the nothing within his chest.

He was hiding in the drawing room again when he heard Bellatrix arrive and head straight to the kitchen. Again, he stared at Andromeda's name, perhaps believing that if he wished it hard enough he would appear in her house and spend the holiday with the Tonks family instead of the Blacks.

'Still caught in the past, little baby cousin?'

The cold voice chilled him to the bone but he swallowed the emotion and turned to face his cousin.

'Hello Bellatrix,' he greeted politely. 'Dear me, you look even older than last time we met - I hope you're not stressing yourself out too much.'

She laughed that cruel, horrible laugh and took a step towards him.

'You're lucky your name is still on this tree,' she whispered. He could feel her hair upon his cheek. 'You are not worthy of the name of Black.'

Finding courage somewhere in the hands of the beast, he smiled.

'But you are very worthy, Bella. You and Narcissa. Andromeda, not so much, but you already know that, don't you?'

Bellatrix stepped back suddenly, her lips tight, hand tracing something beneath her robes - her crooked wand, no doubt. Crooked like her moral compass.

She seemed to measure him up, sneering at his appearance and he knew it had nothing to do with the way he looked: after another argument with his mother he had found himself in a pair of black trousers and an old white shirt that wouldn't have looked out of place in Victorian times - while he would not disagree that it suited him very well and he did look rather smart, it was an outfit his parents had forced him into so style and how dashing he may look was just beside the point.

'You are an embarrassment to us all,' said Bellatrix, tilting her head back snobbishly. 'You are the first Black in known memory to be Sorted into a house other than Slytherin. You consort with mudbloods and half-bloods and blood traitors; the only thing Black about you is your looks.'

'Oh, bestow sympathy upon me,' he laughed. She didn't seem to have a point other than putting him down. It was a favourite pastime of his relatives'. 'I suppose you're going to give me a lecture about how I need to marry well? Did they put you up to this?'

'I would not bother with you were you not the heir of this family,' she told him. 'I think you are a lost cause, but my aunt and uncle seem to still believe in you. They are the only reason I am still civil with you.'

He wished that she wouldn't be. He wished that she would give him a reason, any reason at all, to draw his wand and defend himself, to give her an appearance to match the soul her body sheltered. But, he realised as he ran his hands over the pockets of his trousers, he appeared to have left his wand in his bedroom so it was useless anyway.

Without so much as a smile or a farewell, he turned away from the tapestry and made to leave, but her hand suddenly shot out and grabbed his wrist. Forcibly, she turned him, her free hand on the back of his head.

'You see those holes, dear Sirius?' she spat, pointing his field of vision towards the tapestry. 'That's what's going to happen to you. Sooner or later, they'll see that you're not worth space you occupy.'

And there she was, the real Bellatrix Lestrange, not the faux-polite little rich girl she presented herself as on such occasions.

'Oh, I'm so lucky you're married, Bella,' he chuckled. 'I think I'd have to blast a hole in my own head if they'd forced me to walk down the aisle with you.'

He was spun around so quickly that he hit the wall behind him as he stumbled, and when he turned to face her, her wand was pointed threateningly at his chest.

'Do you remember our last conversation, little cousin?' she sang. 'Remember what I promised? How long do you think they will hold out before they turn your education to me? I know spells that would have you wet yourself in fear, I know things your silly little mind couldn't even begin to comprehend, you worthless blood traitor!'

To his surprise, Sirius smiled. He wasn't afraid of her, but she did have a knack of making one feel threatened. And it was fairly silly of him to still be standing there, to be honest, given the lack of wand.

'Things your precious Dark Lord taught you?' he teased. Immediately, he saw that he had hit a nerve. The newspaper clippings on Regulus's wall were still too fresh in his mind, and he didn't care if she was a Death Eater, didn't care at all - she'd never attack the heir of her beloved family. 'You talk about honour, well where is the honour in joining him? I have honour, and I have pride, and you are nothing but scum, you and your precious Vol-'

'Crucio!'

The curse hit him so suddenly he did not have time to breathe. Pain, unlike anything he thought possible, hit him with an unrelenting blow. His skin was on fire, his flesh was melting into the bone. He barely heard the sound of his own scream as he fell to the floor, and his vision was a sheet of white. It was agony in its purest, most undiluted form and he wanted it to end, wanted everything to end, just wanted the pain to stop, wanted to die and leave his broken body behind.

Suddenly, it was gone, and it was the most wonderful feeling in the world. He could breathe again, could see again. Even the touch of his shirt against his skin felt heavenly, the soft plush carpet like a bed of clouds. His limbs did ache, no doubt from the way his body had twisted against the curse, but it barely felt like pain.

'-please, Bella!'

The first thing he saw was his cousin's smile, and the horror on his brother's face as he hung off her arm. She smiled wider and turned to Regulus, putting an arm around him now that he had stopped tugging on her sleeve. It was with this smile that she left, leading the younger Black sibling away with her.

Sirius stared now at the only two people remaining in the room: his parents. Orion shook his head slowly in dismay, casting him a look that said quite plainly 'This is your fault' before he followed Bellatrix and Regulus.

Walburga, to his surprise, walked towards him, and he pushed feebly against the floor, wiping the back of his hand against his mouth. With one hand, she hauled him to his feet and looked at him as though she were judging every inch of his being.

'Now you've went and ruined your outfit,' she scolded.

'M-my outfit?' he stammered, surprised that he had found the strength to speak, he seemed caught in some form of shock. 'Mother, she...'

'You have to learn, Sirius,' she told him in a quiet, venomous voice. 'You've had this coming for years. Now go upstairs and sort yourself out.'

There was no love in her voice, no concern or sympathy. She treated the house elf with more love and respect than her own son. And that weight he had been carrying sank right into the pit of his stomach as he staggered up the stairs, breaking into a run towards the top.

Bellatrix... She was a horrible excuse for a human being. He was probably not the first victim of her use of an Unforgivable, and he wouldn't be the last; that did not shock him. And really, after all these years he should not have been so shocked by the lack of concern shown by his parents. But it had never hurt like this, never felt like his heart had been ripped out and used for Quidditch practise.

In many ways, it hurt more than the curse that had hit him.

He sat, wordless, on his bed, not even thinking about straightening his clothes or fixing his hair. A little while later, he moved to the window, his mind blank but for the hurt and the realisation that this gathering he had found himself a part of, these people...they weren't his family.

Through the window he saw Bellatrix walk down the street below, her cloak billowing behind her. The anger returned, bolstered a new-found determination that blossomed within.

The bag he had brought back from Hogwarts was lucky enough to have had an undetectable extension charm placed upon it to aid their sneaking food from the kitchens, so he found it quite easy to empty his wardrobe of clothing he would lament losing and shove it all into the bag. It took barely fifteen minutes for him to retrieve everything of personal value from his room and shove his wand into his pocket. And with one last, final look around the room, checking that he had not forgotten a thing, he slammed the door shut behind him and hurried down the stairs.

Voices drifted up from the basement kitchen; loud laughter and conversation.

'Where are you going?'

He was almost to the front door when his brother's voice called out.

'Sirius-' The young boy's eyes widened as he caught sight of the bag. Sirius doubted that his expression detracted from the general image of his intent, and he turned away from him without a word and took another step towards the door. 'You're running away, aren't you?'

'I can't take this any more,' Sirius said, turning back. His voice sounded angry and tearful, and he noted that it was a rather appropriate summary of the maelstrom that was currently raging in his head and in his chest. 'I don't belong here. Nobody is going to care that I'm gone.'

'Have you even asked any of us how we feel?' Regulus demanded, sounding increasingly testy.

'I don't need to! You saw what she did, and neither of them cared, Mother just said I deserved it. Do you think that too?'

Regulus stared at him silently for a few seconds.

'I think you're hurt. I think you're confused and scared and you don't know what you're doing.'

Sirius laughed, a deep, mirthless laugh.

'For once in my life, Reg, I think I do.'

He couldn't stay, not even for a minute. Leaving was both the easiest and the most difficult thing he had ever done. There was such a finality to the act; one he had been so unwilling to commit to before now. But what was the point in staying? His parents didn't love him, didn't care about him, and his brother was on a path that was sure to separate them forever. There was nothing left for him here.

'I know where you're going.' He didn't know why he stopped again. Maybe he thought that Regulus could talk him out of this? If his younger brother had promised never to join the Death Eaters, to maybe give Muggles and Muggle-borns a chance, then maybe, just maybe, he would have stayed. For Regulus. 'You're going to his, aren't you? You're going to Potter's?'

The truth was that he didn't have a clue where he was going or what he was going to do. He just wanted to put as much distance between himself and his family as possible.

'It's always been him, hasn't it?' Regulus demanded. 'You've always chosen him over me, always- I'M YOUR BROTHER! Not him! Me!'

His face was turning red, his hands were clenched at his side and he stamped a foot into the ground. A temper-tantrum if Sirius had ever seen one.

'You always cared about him more than you cared about me! More than you cared about us! We're your family, Sirius, you're not supposed to turn your back on us!'

'YOU'RE THE ONES WHO TURNED YOUR BACK ON ME!' Sirius roared, rage pounding through him, his heart beating in his ears. Orion and Walburga emerged from the kitchen, their expressions a mix of fury and confusion. When he spoke again, he addressed them all. 'You never cared about me, just what I meant to this family. You want me to be someone I'm not, you want me to support things I am firmly against, to believe things I think are wrong. You tell me all the time what a disappointment I am, how I'm a disgrace to the family and I deserve anything bad that happens to me. Well guess what? The disgrace is making this easy for you.' He looked at Orion and Walburga with what he hoped was an expression that conveyed utmost contempt and hatred. 'I hate you all. You and your stupid, cruel, archaic views, your Dark Magic worship and your closed-mindedness.' It was like venom was being sucked from an old wound; he had kept all this bottled up for years, had dared not say it outright and it was glorious to finally get it off his chest at last. 'I'm leaving, and I really don't care what you do.'

Orion and Walburga pushed past Regulus, and Sirius drew his wand, pointing it directly at his parents. They stopped, staring warily at the shaking hand that held it before looking him in the eye.

'Just calm down, Sirius,' Orion said. He, at least, looked a little concerned. 'Put your wand down, and your bag, and let's talk.'

'It's too late for that,' he said. Perhaps there was regret in his voice. He was too choked up to discern anything, just wanted this to be over already.

'You walk out that door,' Walburga said threateningly, held back by her husband, 'and you better not be planning on coming back. You'll be dead to us, you hear me? You leave now and you will never be welcome in this home or in this family again!'

Trust old Walburga to make this easy for him.

'You don't understand,' he said in a forlorn and breathy voice. 'That's what I want.'

He turned as he lowered his wand, opened the front door even with his mother screeching behind him, and stepped out into the cold December air.

AN - Well, he's out of there! This was so challenging to get right - I had all these little details in my head, so it seemed easy but stitching them all together while keeping with my personal characterisations of Orion and Walburga was a little tricky. This was actually originally the first part of a chapter called 'A Tale of Two Mothers', but it made more sense to split it here, so I hope you enjoy it as is!
Thanks to Kazo Sakamari, TimeEnough and the Guests for the reviews on the last chapter! I still love to hear what you have to say so keep them coming!
As usual, thank you and please review! :)