Insane House Competition: nervous

365: navy

Stickers, Ice Mice: Write a ficset in winter

Bath Bomb Appreciation, Fairytale Fantasy: fairytale!au

Tea Challenge: Sweet Dreams, write about a dream come true

Book Club, Edilio: funeral, slash pairing, anger

Word Count: 3548

i. once upon a time

Orion Black leads a good life. He isn't rich, but he provides for his son and makes sure Sirius never has to worry or go without.

"One day," Orion says, as he and his four year old walk along the modest farm, "all of this will be yours."

"Why?" the boy asks.

Orion bites the inside of his cheek. Sirius had only been a baby when his mother had died. He has been fortunate enough to not know what death is. How can he explain the cycle of life to the boy now?

Words fail him, and he just lifts his son into his arms, holding him close. "Because one day, you'll be big and strong, and you'll have this place all to yourself."

…

Walburga does not need to marry again. By now, she's collected enough wealth from her previous husbands that she could live out the rest of her days in comfort as a widow.

But when she sees Orion Black and his farm, a smile tugs at her lips. It isn't much, but the land is nice. Her beloved Regulus will need his own plot of land one day.

"Don't worry, my love," she tells the three year old, stroking his dark hair. "Mummy will take care of you."

…

Sirius doesn't like his new mother. She smiles so sweetly when his father is around, but the second she's alone with Sirius, things change. He quickly learns to lie about the bruises and scrapes.

"Your father won't believe you," Walburga says, pinching Sirius' arm so hard that he can feel a bruise already blooming beneath her fingers.

He sniffles, but he doesn't cry. All he can do is nod mutely, too afraid of angering her.

He doesn't know why she hates him so much, but he keeps it to himself. There's no need to make things worse.

…

"He's my son!" Orion slams his hand against the table, driving his point home. "My son, Walburga. I will not just send him away."

He doesn't know where this is coming from. As far as he knows, Walburga cares for Sirius. Regulus seems to get along well with his older stepbrother. Why would his wife want to tear their family apart.

"He's awful to Regulus."

Orion shakes his head stubbornly. "I don't believe that."

Sirius is nothing but kind. Whenever Orion has seen the two boys together, they're always laughing and smiling. He's watched as Sirius happily told his brother to watch as he taught him small things like how to shell peas and climb trees.

"I don't want him around my son, Orion," Walburga snaps.

Orion doesn't budge. He loves Walburga; she isn't as kind or lovely as his late wife, but he loves her more than almost anything. Still, his son will always come first. "In that case, you and Regulus are more than welcome to leave."

She falls silent at that, but Orion notices a strange fire in her eyes.

…

Walburga realizes there's no choice. She plays along as long as she needs to, wearing her brightest smile. All she has to do is wait.

…

Everything gets worse. Sirius doesn't know what he's done to deserve being hurt, but it gets harder and harder to hide now.

…

Hemlock is easy enough to get. Walburga smiles to herself as she prepares the brew.

She wishes she could give it to her husband and that brat, but she knows better than to raise suspicions. One dead body is a tragedy. Two is just sloppy.

"Orion, my love!" she calls sweetly, pouring the poison brew into a teacup. "How about a nice cup of tea before you tend to the fields?"

…

Walburga stays at his side. Orion thinks how lucky he is to have a wife so committed to him, even as the cramps take hold and he spills the contents of his stomach.

"Take care… Take care of Sirius," he gasps. "Please…"

His wife wipes away the beads of sweat from his clammy face. "Of course, my love," she whispers.

…

Sirius doesn't cry when he watches them lower his father into the ground. His lip quivers, and he feels tears sting his eyes, but he blinks them away.

Walburga glares at him, but she holds Regulus so gently. Sirius has to strain, but he hears her whispering to the younger boy. "It's okay. Mummy will take care of you."

He wonders if she'll care for him too.

ii. the boy in the ashes

Only a day after the funeral, Sirius realizes that everything has changed. Chores had once been split fairly. Sirius would be in charge of helping his father while Walburga and Regulus tended to the inside.

Now, the five year old finds himself face to face with his stepmother. "Scrub the floors, boy," she snaps.

When Sirius opens his mouth to protest, the woman raises her hand as though to strike him. He quickly snaps his mouth shut and shrinks back. "Yes ma'am," he murmurs.

"And when you're done, you can cook lunch for us."

Sirius whines. He doesn't know how to cook at all. Still, he doesn't argue. His father isn't here to defend him now.

…

Sirius can't wait to get in bed. Once again, however, Walburga stops him. "Servants don't deserve beds," she says simply, throwing the most raggedy blanket he's ever seen at him.

"But it's cold!"

Her dark eyes narrow. There is no sympathy in the hard set if her lips. "Sleep by the fireplace, then."

…

It goes on like that forever. Each day, Sirius is on his hands and knees, scrubbing and tidying the tiny home. Walburga watches him, always eager to scold him when he doesn't do enough.

The worst part is Regulus. Sirius had enjoyed having a brother for a short time. Now, his stepmother encourages the younger boy boss Sirius around and tease him.

…

Sirius has never felt so alone. He curls up by the fireplace, watching the embers glow in the darkness.

It isn't fair. He hasn't done anything wrong, and he doesn't know why his stepmother continues to punish him like this.

He drags a thin finger across the ashes, doodling to keep himself distracted. One day, he will leave this place. He doesn't know how, but it has to happen.

As he wipes away his tears, he leaves black streaks across his face. It doesn't matter. Now, he is little more than a servant in his own home, and he is always covered in soot.

He closes his eyes, sniffling, and his dreams take him far away to a world where he can be free.

iii. make a wish

Sirius serves Walburga and Regulus their breakfast. He even endures it in silence when Regulus deliberately tips his porridge and toast onto the floor and sneers. "Better clean that up!"

It's been twelve years of this, and he has grown used to it. He keeps his head held high as he carefully cleans the mess and fixes his stepbrother a new plate.

Walburga lifts a letter, opening it carefully. "King Lyall is holding a ball," she announces. "His son is of marrying age now, and he hopes to find him a match."

Regulus leans forward eagerly, a broad grin stretching his thin lips. "I would make an excellent prince," he says.

Walburga's eyes gleam. She folds the letter carefully and sets it to the side. "A fine prince," she agrees. "We shall find you the finest suit for the ball, but it's hardly necessary. The moment Prince Remus sees you, no one else will stand a chance."

"May I go too?" Sirius asks quietly.

Two sets of dark eyes turn to him. Sirius takes an involuntarily step back, wishing he could blend into the shadows and avoid their gazes. He knows he shouldn't have asked. The only time he's allowed to leave the house is to go into the fields to collect vegetables.

Still, he longs to get away, even for just one night. He's tired of staring at the four walls. His skin is always raw and dirty from his many chores. One night is all he needs.

"Prince Remus is looking for a match," Regulus says coldly. "He doesn't want a servant."

Walburga laughs nastily. "Get back to your chores, Sirius."

"Yes ma'am."

…

He watches the embers, shivering against the winter air that sneaks in through the cracks in the walls. One night. That's all he wants.

He drifts off to sleep fitfully, his mind filled with dancing and a handsome prince asking for his hand.

…

"Scrub yourself off. Today is an important day."

The demand causes his stomach to flutter with hope. Has she had a change of heart? Will be get to go to the winter ball after all?

Though he wants to ask, he nods and hurries off to the bucket of water, scrubbing away as much of the ashes as he can. It isn't perfect, but he hopes Prince Remus won't notice the black marks that have stained his nails.

"Tend to Regulus' suit," Walburga orders. "Make sure it is perfect."

"And for me?"

She scowls. "You think the royal family would have a boy in rags attend their ball?" she laughs.

Sirius hangs his head. Just like that, his dreams shatter. "No ma'am," he says.

…

He can't help but feel jealous when Regulus steps out in his navy suit. His dark hair has been combed back and styled with extra care. He is more handsome than Sirius has ever seen. Bitterly, he realizes that the prince would be a fool not to fall in love with Sirius' stepbrother.

In the back of his mind, he finds himself wondering if he'll be allowed to live in the castle after the wedding. Perhaps Regulus will tell the prince that Sirius is his faithful servant. Somehow, he doubts it. The palace has enough servants. Sirius will undoubtedly find himself on the streets, begging and trying to get by.

"Look at my boy!" Walburga cries. "My handsome boy! Soon, you'll be a prince."

Sirius scowls and moves closer to fireplace, fading into the shadows. No one seems to notice. Neither Regulus nor Walburga tell him goodbye as they leave.

…

Sirius stands out the cold. It's the first time in what feels like forever that he's gotten to step outside without being burdened by a dozen chores to complete. He doesn't even mind the chilling wind that bites his skin.

He watches the sky slowly darken and the first star twinkle. "I wish I could go to the ball," he whispers.

It's such a silly thing. Wishing on a star doesn't really do anything. If it did, everyone in the world would have everything they wanted, and no one would suffer and struggle.

He's about to go back inside when the star begins to glow more brightly than he's ever seen. Sirius shields his eyes, his confusion freezing him to the spot. When the light fades, he lowers his hand, and his confusion only grows.

A tall, thin man with messy black hair stands before, a wide grin on his face. Sirius stares at him, unable to speak. He's never seen the man before, and it's much too late to have visitors. Besides, everyone in the kingdom should be at the ball now.

"Who… Who are you?" Sirius finally manages.

"Call me Prongs," the man says brightly before stepping past Sirius and entering the house. "Come on, dear. You can't go to the ball looking like that."

Sirius follows behind him, dumbstruck. Prongs doesn't seem to find it strange that he's making himself at home. Sirius wonders if the other man is drunk. Perhaps he's already been to the ball, indulged a little too much, and has ended up in the wrong house.

"Come on, mate. We don't have all night," Prongs says impatiently.

"I don't understand…"

"You made a wish, and I'm here to grant it. Now, come on. We have work to do."

Sirius knows that he should tell the man to leave. If Walburga and Regulus find out about this visitor, Sirius is as good as dead. Still, he can't bring himself to send the stranger away. There's an impossible promise that this man can make his dreams come true, and he doesn't know how he can say no.

…

Sirius wonders if he's dreaming. That's the only explanation for this. How else can a man wave a stick and transform Sirius' rags into an elegant charcoal grey suit? How else can that same strange stick smooth out the knots and tangles in Sirius' long black hair and pull it back into a refined ponytail.

"You clean up well. I almost wish I was a prince looking for a spouse," Prongs sighs. "Please don't tell my wife I said that."

Sirius stares at his reflection in the mirror, his jaw slack. He doesn't know how this transformation is possible. The ashes are long gone. He can't remember ever being so clean.

"Something's missing," Prongs says, circling him and studying Sirius with his bright hazel eyes. "Ah!"

The other man waves his stick. At first, Sirius wonders if the magic has run out. Then he notices the silver cufflinks with the Black family crest engraved in them. He hasn't seen them in years, not since his father wore them when he married Walburga.

Without a word, Prongs hurries back outside. Sirius follows behind him, still curious. "You'll need to make an entrance," the magical man says, waving his stick again. A large rock transforms into an ornate silver carriage. "Just make sure you make your exit before midnight. This is powerful magic, and burns up quickly."

Sirius nods before stepping into the chariot. He can't believe this really happening.

iv. prince charming

Sirius doesn't know why he's so nervous. He trembles, and his heart races in his chest. Maybe he still doesn't believe it's real. Part of him is still convinced that he'll wake up by the fireplace and discover that it's all a dream.

He stares out the window of the carriage, watching the snowy countryside pass him by.

…

The palace ballroom is packed. Sirius makes his way through the crowd, taking extra care not to run into his stepmother or stepbrother. He may have undergone an amazing transformation, but he doubts they would be fooled. This sort of rule breaking will earn him more than just a sharp slap or two.

He plans on preparing a small plate of fruit when he feels a soft tap on his shoulder. His heart leaps into his throat, and he's afraid Walburga has found him. When he turns, however, he's greeted by a young man with tawny hair and the most beautiful amber eyes he's ever seen. Prince Remus offers him a smile. "I don't think we've had the chance to dance yet," he says.

Sirius bites the inside of his cheek. This is really; the prince is really asking him to dance. He sets the empty plate back on the table and accepts Prince Remus' hand, grateful that his nerves are at bay. The last thing he needs is to faint.

Prince Remus is an excellent dancer. Sirius moves awkwardly, but the other man is gentle and graceful. He guides Sirius along with a soft smile. "Not much of a dancer, are you?"

"I never had the opportunity to learn," Sirius admits.

"A pity," Prince Remus says. "A handsome man should always know these things. Lucky for you, I'm a good teacher."

"The best," Sirius says softly.

He wonders if the butterflies will ever leave his stomach. Each spin and dip only seems to make them flutter more wildly.

The band's music fades, and Sirius almost groans. He doesn't want to let go of the prince's hand. This isn't even what he's come here for. He'd only wanted a night away, a chance to escape the chores and tasks and to pretend that he is free.

Now that he has had a chance to meet Prince Remus, however, he can't think of anything else. The prince has probably already found his ideal suitor. Sirius has no chance with him. Still, he has been lonely for so long, and he's enjoying the company for far too long.

He expects Prince Remus to release his hand and go off to the next man or woman who catches his eye. Instead, when the band begins the next song, he begins to lead Sirius again.

"People might suspect you of favoritism," Sirius says, but he doesn't complain. The attention is nice.

"Let them suspect," Prince Remus says simply. "It's my ball and my choice."

Sirius' eyes turn to the large, ornate iron clock on the wall. He still has time, thank God.

"In a hurry?" Prince Remus asks, spinning Sirius gracefully.

"I have to leave by midnight," Sirius admits.

The prince frowns at that. It doesn't matter that they still have a few hours together. The news still seems to make him sad. Sirius shrugs it off. This is all just for one night. Even if the prince falls in love with him, Sirius doesn't have a chance.

…

The night moves too quickly. Sirius' eyes always wander back to the clock, and he finds himself cursing those iron hands as they drag along.

When it's ten til midnight, Sirius forces himself to pull away from the prince. "I must go," he says. "I'm sorry."

Before Prince Remus can respond, Sirius hurries off. The magic will fade, and he can't afford to be left in rags, so far away from home. He ducks through the crowd, all too aware that Prince Remus is hot on his trail. He doesn't stop or turn around. Only when he's in his carriage does he notice the prince staring longingly after him.

v. happily ever after

"Prince Remus danced with me all night," Regulus brags as Sirius brings him his breakfast the following morning. "I expect he'll send word of our engagement soon."

"All night?" Sirius manages to keep from laughing, but he smiles so broadly that his jaw begins to burn.

"No one even had the chance to dance with him." Regulus seems so pleased with his lie that he doesn't even bother to leave a huge mess for Sirius to clean. "He said I was the most dazzling person in the room."

"That's nice."

…

Sirius scrubs the kitchen floor when Walburga comes in, jerking him to his feet. "Out! Out! The prince is here!"

Sirius wonders where he's meant to go; he isn't allowed in any of the bedrooms. Without any real clue, he sneaks out the back door and creeps along the house, finding a spot where he can have a good view and still hear what's being said.

Sure enough, Prince Remus is at the front of the house, accompanied by King Lyall and several guards. One of the guards glances at him but says nothing as the congregation is welcomed into the house.

Sirius lo pulls out his silver cufflink. It's the only thing that hadn't faded when the magic had worn off, and he hasn't had a chance to return it to its rightful place. He doesn't know where the other one is, so he thinks he might keep it. His finger brushes over the crest.

"This is not the man I danced with," he hears Prince Remus say.

"The cufflink bore the Black family crest," King Lyall insists. "Are you sure?"

"I would recognize his grey eyes anywhere. Is there another son?"

"Only Regulus," Walburga says, her voice tight. "He is the one you're looking for, your highness."

"There was a boy at the window," a guard says.

"Just a servant," Walburga assures him. "He wasn't at the ball."

"Bring him in."

A moment later, a guard finds Sirius. Sirius swallows dryly. He wishes he could refuse. Prince Remus will take one look at him and regret ever dancing with him. Why would someone with royal blood want someone dressed in rags and covered in ash?

Still, he follows along, his heart hammering painfully in his chest. He stands before the prince, his cheeks hot with color.

"That's him," Prince Remus says.

"Impossible!" Walburga screams. Sirius steps back; he's all too familiar with her anger. "He isn't! You want my Regulus!"

The prince steps closer. He takes the cufflink from Sirius, studying it quietly. A smile stretches his lips. "Hello again."

"Hello."

"May I ask your name? I didn't have the chance last night."

"Sirius. Sirius Black."

Prince Remus' smile grows brighter. He takes Sirius by the hand, not seeming to care about the dirt and grime. "Last night, I fell in love with a mysterious man. I wished to dance with him all night, but he ran out, leaving behind only a cufflink," he explains. "Now that I've found you, will you accompany me back to the palace? We have a wedding to plan… That is, if you'll have me."

Sirius grins. He's thought about running away and escaping this place for so long. It's been his only dream as long as he can remember. Now, his dreams have come true. He is free.

"It would be my pleasure, your highness."