A/N: It's a battle of wills when Sirius is caught during his escape by his father. When he narrowly escapes, Sirius just has to hold on until he gets to his friend's house. This is the last chapter. Thanks for reading until the end. RxR. FxF.

Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter.

Regulus crouched down beside him but he pushed his brother away. He didn't need Regulus' coddling or selfish concern now. He needed to get out. The longer he stayed here, the harder it would be to leave. He got up off the ground, wiping away the remaining wetness around his eyes and continued packing his things. Regulus quietly slipped out the room but he paid him no mind.

Once his trunk was packed to the brim, and the unnecessary things left behind, he grabbed it and pulled it slowly behind him. He would have used the window but his mother had warded it, along with all the other windows, long ago when he frequently used it to evade her when he was younger. The only way out for him was through the front door.

The house was silent and though it usually was, the fact that he was actually planning to escape made the house seem even more oppressing. It felt as if the walls themselves were watching him: the unseeing eyes of the elf heads and the dozing people in the two portraits in the hallway. He moved quietly so as not wake them and have his cover blown.

He made it down the stairs, grinning to himself at just how far he had gotten. The door was in his sight. It was so close that if anyone should see him, he would already be long gone.

There was a white light and he was frozen, his face hitting the bare wooden floor this time. He heard the slow steady steps approaching his prone form: purposeful, intimidating yet indifferent, as if their owner really couldn't care less where he walked but they would get him to his destination while making others quake in fear. These were not the harried and crazy feet of his mother but the one person no one should aggravate: his father.

"Boy," his father said, his disgust laced in his voice. No more words were said as he levitated his son's body and moved him into his study. No one was allowed in his father's study. It was his private sanctuary within the house, but everyone was here tonight: one big happy family.

His body fell to the floor once more, but he could feel the spell lift as his breathing picked up again and the fear taking hold over him. The door shut behind him, sounding like a bang to his heightened hearing. His plans were ruined. There was no way out.

"Thank you, Regulus," his father said before walking to sit behind his desk. From the ground, he spared a glance up into the downcast face his brother. That traitor had told their parents, their father, what he had planned to do.

His father clicked his tongue, drawing his attention away from his brother. He said evenly, "'As a member of the Noble and Most Ancient House of Black, it is your duty to uphold the standards of our family and represent its beliefs in all facets.' You are called to uphold your duty as the Black heir, son."

His voice had gotten stuck in his throat and he had yet to get up from the rug. A vein in his father's eyebrow pulsed before he almost screamed, "Get off the ground, you scum."

He scrambled to his feet quickly and cast his head down, "Yes, father."

His father stared off to the right and said, "In two days, we will be having an esteemed guest over for dinner who is looking forward to meeting our family and bestowing a great honour on our family's representative. Unfortunately, our representative has to be our blood-traitor son. You will be meeting him and you will be joining his cause. Your opinion on the matter has no place in this deal."

"Now, your mother will be in charge of re-educating you about our beliefs since you seem to have forgotten most of them. You will listen to her and learn quickly for your own good. I do not want to be called upon again for your insubordination. Do I make myself clear?"

He shook on the spot, just taking in his father's words, still afraid to speak. He heard the same footsteps approach him from behind the desk until he saw the feet stand before him. "Look at me, boy." He looked up into the face so like his own, though older around the eyes. The man repeated, "Do I make myself clear?"

He nodded and said quietly, "Yes, sir."

His father stepped back and then drew his wand, "Now, according to your mother, your first lesson was not as effective as we would have hoped. I will hope to re-enforce what she has taught you today."

This was much worse than his mother's curse for it was cast with such coldness and detachment, he thought for a while that he had left his own body and been sent to a place of pain and darkness. It felt like painful needles pushing outwards from all organs, piercing blood vessels and pulsing muscles. His legs fell from under him and he was on the floor once more, but his father cared not. He held the curse for a few seconds longer before releasing it.

"Repeat after me, 'As a member of the Noble,'" his father began but he could not find his voice, his throat raw and sore. He made a low gurgle from deep within in response.

He felt a slash across his pant leg and felt the skin open under the cloth.

"'As a member of the Noble,'" his father said again and through the pain, he repeated softly.

"'and Most Ancient House of Black,'" his father continued and he repeated again, coughing on the 'Black', and receiving another slash, this time across the other leg.

His father made him say the whole oath, getting another slash across his body with every hitch or mistake. He could feel his tattered clothes dampening with his blood as he repeated the lines through gritted teeth. How was any of this fair? How could a family torture their own son into going with its beliefs. This wasn't a family, he wasn't their son. He was a slave, lower than the low in their eyes.

"'...its beliefs in all facets'," his father ended, saying the last of the oath. He was about to respond, to repeat the last line which would effectively seal his fate forever, which would show his father that he had won.

He couldn't. He swallowed and said, "No."

His father stepped back, looking down at the boy as if he had been slapped in the face. It was the first time he had ever seen his father in state of shock and lack of composure. He would have felt proud and probably laughed under different circumstances, but now was not the time.

Then his father's face contorted in rage. He leaned down into his ear and said coldly, "What did you say?"

He chanced a glance at his shocked but frightened mother and Regulus' wide-eyed stare and repeated a bit stronger, "No, sir."

He pushed himself off the ground slowly, and he knew that it was only because of his father's disoriented state that he even made it to his feet without being struck down. It gave him confidence, which he tried to prevent from turning into cockiness. He had to keep on his toes and couldn't get distracted else he make a mistake.

His father was a tall man, but he stood only less than a head shorter. He looked into the man's eyes and said, "No, I will not represent our beliefs, for they are not my beliefs, they are yours."

"They are your beliefs as you are a Black," his father said evenly.

"I choose not to be a Black then," he said loudly, surprised at himself that he could shout in his father's presence. There was a small gasp behind him that drew his father's attention away from him. His mother was watching the pair with tears in her eyes and he wondered what she could be crying about. She hated him and everything he thought of. She didn't deserve to be crying now.

But she had distracted him. His father at turned back to him once more and slapped him soundly across the face, his Black family ring digging deeply into his smooth cheek. The warm blood slid down his skin before matting into the slight stubble under his chin.

There was a slight upturn of the corner of his father's mouth, but other than that he showed no expression or emotion. "Regardless of anything you say or do, this changes nothing. It just shows we will have to beat this rebellious nature out of you."

His father raised his wand once more and aimed it him, right above his heart, but he was done being tossed around and made worthless. He drew his own wand out his pocket and aimed it at his father's chest.

His father's eyes widened before he shouted, "I will not have such utter disrespect in my house." His face was red and his hair slightly mussed. There was a wild look in his eye of a man pushed to the edge.

"That's exactly why I was leaving," he said while slowly inching towards the door.

"No, you will not. You will obey me," his father said before rearing back his hand. "Impe-"

"Reducto!" he screamed.

His father ducked out of the way as the spell flew over his head and blasted a bookcase behind him. His mother and Regulus jumped out of their seats, his mother rushing to his father but he was already blasting the door open and running out.

He stood in the foyer once more, his trunk still at the bottom of the stairs. He grabbed it with both hands and ran for the door. He had just attacked his father and there was no way he would live through whatever his father had in store for him if he was caught again. His legs and stomach ached but there would be time to think about that after.

He stopped right by the door with a thought finally occurring to him: how would he get away? He couldn't walk anywhere now with this pain, and he couldn't Apparate yet because he didn't know how and didn't want to possibly get splinched.

There was a clatter behind him and he whirled around, his wand outstretched. He was not going quietly and his father would not catch him off-guard.

But instead he saw his brother, who was holding his broom! Regulus threw the broom to his brother. In that moment, he felt an ounce of gratitude towards his brother and had forgotten that it was Regulus who had ratted him out. He could see in Regulus' eyes the anger and hurt at his departure, but also the acceptance that this was to be and the envy that he couldn't go as well. He held out an inviting hand, his question obvious but Regulus moved his head slightly. Regulus would not be going. Regulus would be staying with his family.

There was a crash from inside the room and he saw his father's head appear in the doorway before a blue spell flew towards his head. He ducked and then blasted the front door open, hopping on the broom and kicking off, his trunk dangling by a rope off the end.

"We should go after him!" his mother shrieked, rushing towards the broken door with her own wand outstretched. The Dark Lord would be most displeased and what would they do then?

"Stop!" his father said shortly.

Her footsteps halted instantly and she turned to look at her husband strangely. "But the Dark Lord-"

He held his hand out to her and continued, "He is not worth the trouble. As of tonight, he is no longer a Black so he is no longer our heir. Regulus is now the first born. We will present him to the Dark Lord, as we should have long ago."

He walked over to his younger son whose eyes widened as his father placed a strong hand on his shoulder. Life as Regulus knew it was now over. His brother was free but now he was trapped.

Sirius flew through the night sky, his trunk now secured on the back of the broom, the cold air and the moisture in the clouds biting at his face. Though it was frigid, he thanked the cold for the numbness it provided to his sore muscles. But he was losing a lot of blood, the open wounds raining large droplets on the unsuspecting world below.

He just had to hold on, just a little bit longer. He didn't know how long it would take for his family to follow him. Maybe they would finally give up. He hoped they would, but he couldn't be sure. As Regulus said, the Dark Lord was not be messed with. If his family wanted him, if the Dark Lord wanted him, he would be found. But he had to try. He had to get as far as possible. He had to go to the safest and closest place he could think of.

He was losing conscious, black spots appearing in front of his face, making flying through the night even harder. He needed to hold on, he had to reach. He had ten more minutes until he could reach his sanctuary. He had to hold on just a bit longer. Hold on.