A/N: As with sadly many of Sirius' POV chapters, there is some reference to child abuse here. Believe me, I wish it weren't so!

I've also updated my story to reflect some changes in the death eaters. Nott is now Avery and Avery is now Dolohov. I think everyone will be much happier for it.

...

Chapter 45 - Black Situations

Sirius had never dealt well with boredom. He hadn't been lying to Remus about what he'd said in the pub. Fighting was the only thing that made him feel better. Or at least that's how it always used to be. Growing up he had to be constantly fighting his parents' twisted beliefs or he'd lose himself in them. He'd seen the result that came from not doing so - his brother was a walking example. Doing something, anything was better than letting the bastards think they'd won.

"Cheer up." James said, which had never once in his life cheered him up. His friends, knowing he'd be sulking, had come round to try and help him see that being stuck in his flat doing nothing wasn't the end of the world. It wasn't working. It was the end of the world.

"He doesn't understand." Sirius growled of Moody. "He doesn't know what they're like."

"Doesn't he?" James said with a slightly sceptical smile. "Looks like he lost an eye to them, mate. At least your family left you more or less intact."

Oh wasn't he the lucky one...

"It's easier for him." Sirius said sourly. "He didn't grow up with them."

James rolled his eyes. "No one could possibly have it worse than you mate."

"I'm not saying that." Sirius said a little irritably. "I'm just saying he doesn't know how important it is to fight them."

"Er, he's called 'Mad-Eye' for a reason…"

Sirius scowled.

"If I'd known you were throwing a pity party I'd have brought a violin." James grinned.

James was one of the very few people who didn't seem put off by Sirius' dark moods.

Sirius threw a napkin at him. It did little but float innocuously to the ground.

He scowled again. James didn't get it. None of them got it. They hadn't spent their whole lives being told how things that were right were wrong. They hadn't experienced the constant fight for his sanity the same way he had.

"I don't get it, what's so bad about muggles?" He'd asked his parents, four years old and thoroughly confused by the difference between how he perceived the smiling men and women who offered him sherbet lemons on the street and who his parents told him they were.

His mother glared at him. "They're filthy and they're weak." She snapped as if that explained everything. "And if I hear you talking about them again you'll be very sorry."

He'd had the sense not to ask her again, but he had asked Narcissa the next time his cousins came round in the hope that she at least might be able to help him make sense of things.

She hadn't. She'd gone straight to tell his mother who had proceeded to do just as she'd promised and make him thoroughly regret asking.

"Why'd you tell on me?" He'd glared at his cousin through his tears once she'd finally released him.

She'd smirked at him. She was always smirking when he got in trouble. "I always do what's right." She'd said.

"It's so unfair." He sighed now, feeling quite as powerless and hard done by as he had back then.

He knew there was nothing he could do about the past but how could he just sit back while twits like Narcissa and her oaf of a husband inflicted their warped ideology on more innocent victims?

"C'est la vie, mate." James said, not particularly helpfully.

"Why didn't Moody let me fight them?" He growled again. "The worst Narcissa would have done is throw vol-au-vents at me. She's too much of a coward to really get her hands dirty. Except from with the hors d'oeuvres, of course." Was it perhaps this talk of his family that was bringing all the French suddenly into their conversation?

"It's probably best not to risk it." Remus said. "You don't know what it's like to be subjected to the cruciatus curse."

Sirius supposed that was true. Though no stranger to pain, he'd never experienced that level of torture. What was it Dumbledore had said? Tread carefully. But there was a difference between caution and inaction wasn't there?

It made him furious to see just how little everyone around seemed to be doing though. The ministry had made precisely zero death eater arrests since the war had begun and things had gone very quiet in the daily prophet too.

Sirius wondered if the news reporters had perhaps been paid (or threatened) not to share what was really going on. They knew for a fact that there had been a giant attack (quite literally) on a village in Scotland, which despite injuring hundreds of muggles had gone entirely unreported.

Some of their work for the Order involved helping out at sites like these. Of course it wasn't strictly in the job description, but Dumbledore liked them to do the right thing, and they'd usually join to help in a voluntary capacity.

"It's alright." Sirius told a muggle girl, quickly erasing her memory as he helped her out of the rubble. "It was a tornado. But you're going to be OK."

Sirius noticed there were a number of ministry workers at the scene. "So, who's going to be reporting this to the prophet then?" He asked one of the men as he went round obliviating muggles too.

"What you on about?" The man said crossly, pointing his wand at a middle-aged woman with her son who screamed before he cast the memory charm.

"I mean, who's going to tell your boss what really happened?" Sirius said crossly.

"Tornado." The man said tersely.

"Which is why you're modifying everyone's memories?"

"You want me to do yours too?" The wizard snapped, pointing his wand threateningly at Sirius.

Sirius shook his head. "No need." He said.

They knew there were death eaters in the ministry. Travers was one and if Malfoy and Lestrange had got their way, there were more under the imperius curse too.

Just last week there had been a horrible report of a ministry worker who'd murdered his muggle wife and three children in their home. When he was brought in for questioning he'd sobbed and said that he couldn't remember any of it.

Though it was quite obvious to anyone with a brain that he'd been put under the imperius curse and made to carry out the attacks as revenge for he and his wife's outspoken beliefs against Voldemort, he'd still been sent to Azkaban.

Sirius wondered how many in the department for magical law enforcement were either imperiused or genuine death eaters. It was all very strange that no one had been arrested yet.

He spent Christmas at the Potters, where Euphemia and Fleamont treated him as warmly as they ever had, and then he and the others got together for New Year's in London with Frank, Alice and Marlene.

"Happy New Year." Marlene said, kissing him under the fireworks as midnight struck.

"Happy New Year." He smiled back. He was growing quite fond of her.

…

He got the owl from his brother to say his father had died one night in February over dinner. Mabel had found a way to sneak into his flat (presumably through the window) and he'd given up trying to stop the cat pinching what was on his plate, so meal times tended to be a shared experience for them both.

He frowned on recognising the bird, Morpheus, which their parents had bought his brother before starting at Hogwarts.

It was a brief note, devoid of any emotion (like father, like son…) and read:

Sirius,

I wanted to let you know that father died on Tuesday. The funeral is next week but I suggest you do not attend. We will bury him at the family grave.

Regards,

Regulus

He was surprised at the sadness he felt on reading the note. Not because his father had died, but because of how cold and formal the letter was. There was no offer to meet or any suggestion that the two of them might once have been close.

His brother had often sent him little notes growing up together. He'd sneak them under his bedroom door so their parents wouldn't know they'd been communicating. They had given Sirius some hope that his brother wouldn't turn out exactly like their parents.

Unfortunately his hopes were entirely unfounded for that's exactly what had happened to the innocent boy his brother had been.

It would have been nice to have had one member of his family left he could still speak to. With the rising darkness, Andromeda and Ted had gone into hiding to protect their daughter and so he was no longer in touch with her. Of course Bellatrix and Narcissa he never spoke to and he hadn't spoken to his mother since he'd left home at sixteen.

It could be a very lonely world at times.

Thanks Reg. He scribbled back. He frowned and chewed his quill. What did he say now? He wasn't sorry to hear it. His father had done little but make his life a misery. Being dead would improve him greatly. You know dad and I had our differences, but I hope he didn't suffer too much in the end. That was true. Surely a cold bastard like that would have had very little to actually live for. It can't have been a happy life for him, and Sirius wondered if he realised it on his deathbed. I'll avoid the funeral, but how about a drink after?

Sirius knew Regulus had probably joined the death eaters and might even be planning to murder muggles or capture anti-Voldemort protesters right now, but they were still brothers who had just lost their father. Surely they could bury the hatchet for one day.

He returned to his meal to find that Mabel had finished it. He stroked the cat and picked up his goblet of wine. It surprised him how much he felt.

He'd never felt anything towards his dad before. Well besides anger of course. He remembered how much he'd hated the man growing up. While his mother's temper was fiery and uncontrolled, his father's cruelty was cold and measured. He knew what he was doing. He knew how much suffering he was causing his son. And for what? For having a personality, for having opinions, for daring to be different?

He wondered how the man had died. He hadn't been particularly old. And whether he had any regrets at the end of his life. Did he regret the way he'd treated his son, or did he continue to insist, up until his dying breath, that he'd done the right thing and it was Sirius who was the problem.

What a bastard he had been. But he was surely once a child too. What had happened to him to make him so cruel? And why couldn't he have been brave enough to have ever lived?

He wiped his eyes impatiently with the back of his hand as he fastened his letter to Morpheus' leg. He watched the bird's flight into the dusk sky. He wondered if he'd hear back from his brother.

…

To his surprise, Reg did reply to his letter and the two of them agreed to meet for a drink in Knockturn Alley.

"I know mother and father told us not to come here as children, but it's not all that bad." Regulus said, ordering himself an expensive wine from the bar.

"Nice to see you finally rebelling for once." Sirius said with a slightly forced smile.

Regulus took his drink and frowned at his brother. "Is this why you wanted to meet? So you can tell me what a weak mummy's boy I am again?"

He'd been about to ask when he'd ever said anything of the sort, but of course he'd told his brother something along those lines practically every day of their childhood.

"You're not right about everything." Regulus told him, scowling as they took a seat.

"I'm right about Voldemort." Sirius said. "What?" He said as Regulus flinched and spilt his wine. "Scared to hear your master's name, are you?"

"Shut up." His brother spat. "You don't know anything about it."

"But you do, do you? Go on then, brother dearest. Enlighten me. Why should we all be following in Mouldy Voldy's sordid footsteps?"

"You wouldn't understand."

Sirius looked at him. And he wondered, not for the first time, what effect their parents had had on his brother.

Regulus had of course always been their parents' favourite. He was rarely in trouble with either of them and when he was he was always such a wet lettuce about it they let him off pretty lightly.

When they were very small it seemed that his parents had wanted Sirius to succeed as the perfect pureblood prince. They would say things to him like 'when this house is yours' and 'when you take over'. But as time went on, it became clear that he was not going to be the dignified, proud heir they had so hoped for (though it didn't stop them making him suffer for it anyway).

He wondered if Regulus ever resented him. He'd escaped. He'd fought for (and found) his freedom. He'd never done what was expected of him as a child and he wasn't doing it now either. He wondered how much of Regulus' decision to join the death eaters was a desire to please their parents. Perhaps he felt even more pressure to be the 'good son' as his older brother so plainly refused to be.

"No, I don't understand." Sirius told him. "You have a choice. You don't have to blindly do whatever you're told. You're a fucking coward."

"So why did you want to meet me then?"

"To tell you to your face."

Regulus gave a humourless laugh. "You and Potter signed up to be aurors then, have you? Reckon you're going to make this world a good place one baddie at a time? What a charming fairy tale you both must live in."

"What's your plan for the world then? Blow it up?"

"I'm going to restore it to its natural order."

Sirius laughed. "Good luck with that." He said. "But don't tell your little death eater friends they'll never win or they might get so angry they blow the world up anyway. That's the funny thing about order. Nothing will ever quite be orderly enough."

Should he say Order again?

"Oh fuck off." Regulus snapped. "You're always doing that. Talking bollocks like you've got a fucking clue."

"I'm not the one talking bollocks." Sirius told him. "At least everything I believe in makes sense. You can't even explain yours."

"Go on then." Regulus said, his lip curling into a sneer. "What is it you believe, dear brother?"

"I believe you can fuck off." Sirius said. "And that does make sense. Since nothing you say does." He threw his jacket over his shoulder and tossed some coins down onto the table. "I'm off to dance on dad's grave." And he left the pub.

Images of his brother's arrogant face flitted into his head as he stormed down Knockturn Alley. He didn't know why he'd bothered meeting up with the death eater pillock in the first place. He'd always been a twat.

And what's worse, his brother wasn't the only one. 'Restore things to their natural order' what a load of bollocks. Idiots like that hated change because they were fucking afraid of it. They didn't like the idea of people being treated equally because they were terrified of a life where they weren't on top. Merlin forbid they should be exposed for the worthless prats they really were.

But what was almost as bad were the idiots content to sit around and do nothing. Making absolutely no effort to push back against the darkness that if they didn't fight would overtake them all. What was wrong with people?!

He seethed all the way back to his apartment. Moody didn't get it. He and Dumbledore seemed to be waiting for it to be 'risk free' before they attacked. Well it would never be bloody risk free would it? They'd all die before that day came. And Sirius didn't want to waste another day of his life not living. He'd seen first hand what that did to a person.

He poured himself a drink and glared into space. It was infuriating, maddening, impossibly unfair.

And he knew exactly where all this bollocks stemmed from. From pureblood society. From bastards like his brother, like Narcissa, like Lucius…

He knew what he had to do. He grabbed his jacket and headed out of the building, ignoring Mrs Timms who tried to engage him in tipsy conversation as she returned from the pub with a new boyfriend.

With nothing but the image of Malfoy's smug face in his mind, he jumped on his motorbike and headed east.

It was late but not so late that the roads were quiet. He chose to use the flying motorbike for its intended purpose (or the purpose he had intended for it anyway), pressing the invisibility button which worked this time.

He knew where Malfoy Manor was. Though they'd usually travelled there by floo as a child, the Malfoys put the poncy address on all the invites they sent to his parents. It didn't take too long to get there.

He scowled as he approached the iron front gates to the manor with the entwined gold letters 'MM'. What a pathetic, cretinous life this bastard surely led.

Sure the death eater would have protective sensors on the main entrance, he scaled the surrounding hedge instead.

It was quite high and he fell, swearing and wiping dirt from his hands and knees, into the flowerbeds on the other side.

He got to his feet and scowled up at the Manor House. This was where the vicious git and his prissy wife lived.

He didn't exactly have a plan, but sneaking in and finding evidence to get the sod thrown in Azkaban sounded about right to him.

He cast lumos to illuminate his path, having tripped over one too many peacocks while here as a child, and edged his way up to the house.

There was a light on in one of the ground floor rooms. Sirius edged closer, flattening himself against the brick wall as did so.

Pressed with his back to the wall, he peered round through the window. His stomach did a backflip as he recognised the men in the room.

It was Lucius Malfoy, Rodolphus Lestrange and Corban Yaxley. They had a carafe of firewhisky on a mahogany table and appeared to be in deep discussion.

His heart quickening, he ducked down and trained his wand on the window above, muttering the spell that would open it a small fraction.

As the window opened, he became able to hear the conversation of the men in the room.

"It's quite obvious what the solution is." Came his old DADA professor's clipped tones. "We redouble our efforts with the ministry. There's no point in pulling the stunts on the ground anymore. We've made our potion perfectly clear. Now it is for us, those of us with any sense I mean, to make change where it really matters. From inside."

"Yah." Came Malfoy's plummy drawl. "Rodolphus and I have always been of the mind that true power must be seized from source. It's why those of us with any intelligence must work together. If Goyle and Rowle want to keep organising giant attacks that's fine by me. They're too blundering and brainless to be of much use to us when we're in power anyway."

"What position will you take when that day comes, Corban?" Came Rodolphus' voice.

There was a pause. "I was thinking I would return to Hogwarts." Came Yaxley's voice. "They all think I left to work on my next book. I think I'll return as headmaster and shape young minds to the correct way of thinking without that meddlesome fool Dumbledore's interference. I suspect that would please the dark lord."

"What will we do with Dumbledore?"

"We will deal with Dumbledore."

"I must say it's odd." Came Rodolphus' voice, quieter now as if scared of being overheard. "How the dark lord continues to avoid facing him directly. Don't you think we ought to be investigating this secret organisation of his?"

"Yes." Came Yaxley's voice, hard and biting. "I was captured by their pathetic gang last summer along with Travers and Dolohov. Fortunately the dark lord came for us but I must confess I was disappointed by the response." His voice was quieter now too as if confessing to something he didn't want overheard.

"Dumbledore's gang?" Malfoy said and his tone was different now. Curious and… fearful? "Who's in it?"

"Alastor Moody." Yaxley said. "He's an auror. Unfortunately he's too protected for us to do much to him at the moment, though of course we've got people on his tail. Then there's…" he listed off a few other Order members who Sirius made a note to tell. "Oh and young Sirius Black and Peter Pettigrew."

Sirius felt his heart quicken in his chest. He thought Yaxley might have spotted him when he'd been taken in for questioning last year.

"So Sirius really had picked a side then." Came Lucius' voice, sounding almost disappointed now. "I know Narcissa still held out some hopes that he might be persuaded."

Narcissa must be delusional.

"I don't think so." Yaxley said. "It's always been very clear to me exactly what kind of person he is."

There was a lull in conversation and Sirius became aware of a rustling in the flowerbeds.

He looked up to see a cat. But was it a cat? It was certainly the biggest cat he'd ever seen. It had a lion-like mane and long flappy ears. He thought he might have recognised it from care of magical creatures as a kneazle actually.

It meowed loudly.

"Eustace?" Came Malfoy's drawl. "Psst psst, here Eustace."

The creature attempted to jump up through the slightly open window but not having quite enough space to do so, fell down to the ground again, hissing and spitting.

Cursing cats for what was surely the thousandth time, Sirius got hastily to his feet and edged around the brick wall of the house.

"Who's there?" Came Malfoy's voice suddenly from the window.

Sirius froze, heart beating furiously in his chest. Malfoy's voice was coming from right behind him. From the now open window. But if he stayed very still hopefully he wouldn't see him.

There was a moment's pause, and then he heard the window close again. He breathed a sigh of relief.

Thinking it might be sensible to make a quick exit, and considering he'd heard at least something of interest as to what the death eaters were up to, he pulled out his wand to disapparate.

He never got the chance.

"Expelliarmus!"

He gave an involuntary yell as his wand flew out of his hand and spun in the direction of the noise.

There was a dark shape over by the back of the house.

It moved closer, face illuminated now by the light of the wand.

"Hold it right there." Said Lucius Malfoy.