Sirius looks up as the footsteps come closer, a sound so familiar yet so distant in his memory. She pauses in front of him, almost a mirror image and he can't help but feel like a small child again. Walburga black had not always been a part of his nightmares and as she kneels down in front of him and pushes his hair back behind his ears he is reminded of a time long ago when she was safety. When she had been a mother and loved him. Sang him to sleep and danced with him for fun. The bittersweet memories of a childhood filled with love and happiness that had long since morphed into teenage years of screaming matches and hexes made to hurt. The cut of her tongue always made worse with the pain of her curses. Her touch had felt painful; cold and distant but hot and burning all at once.
Now it's like he's a little boy again, her fingers soft and gentle as they brush against his cheeks. "My baby boy," she whispers softly, absentmindedly as if the words slipped out before she could stop them. "You were always so beautiful and so full of life." She runs a hand through his curls, gently pulling apart the knots. He leans into her touch, having longed for someone, anyone, to comfort him for so long.
"Mum," he says, barely above a whisper. Her hand stills as she looks down at him. He doesn't know how it happened but his head is now resting in her lap and the small smile she offers him opens up a million memories that he had suppressed a long time ago. "I didn't do it," he tells her, his voice shaking at the thought of his best friend, his brother, being dead.
"I know you didn't," she tells him and a small part of him fills with hope. She knows he's not guilty and she can get him out. He can find Harry and explain everything to Remus. He’ll be free; they can be a family together. They can raise Harry full of love. Ensure that he never forgets how much his parents loved him. It’ll be just what James and Lily would have wanted for their baby boy.
"You loved him, he was your brother," his mother says. There's no venom to her words when she mentions James. Not like he remembers from his childhood. Now, she sounds sad at the mention of his best friend. "He was the most important person in your life. The one you ran to for happiness and freedom." There's a sadness in her voice, as if maybe she regrets the years spent screaming and cursing. As if maybe, just maybe she wishes that she was that happiness and freedom. "You were his best man at his wedding. You grieved with him when his parents died. He named you godfather of his child because he loved you just as much as you loved him." He wants to ask her how she knows all of this, to know if she had cared all along, if she had kept track of him throughout the years. He doesn't say anything, doesn’t want to risk ruining the moment. "He was your brother," she says.
"Will you help me get out," he asks her, desperately hoping that that's why she's here. "You left me Sirius, you left me heartbroken," she tells him and he can't miss the pain in her voice. It's clear in the way she looks down at him that there’s something she regrets. The way she looks at him as if she had lost him forever. "I know I did, but I can come back. We can try again," he tells her, hoping she knows how much he truly means it. He had never stopped loving her, even when he ran from that house for his life, he had loved her.
"You loved him like a brother," she says again, as if he had never spoken. "But you already had a brother," she continues. Sirius can hear the all too familiar venom leaking into her tone. "You left him and he became obsessed with Voldemort,” Walburga tells him, as if it was his fault. As if him staying would have changed what had happened. “His room was filled with newspaper clippings and he came home one day and told me he had joined up, told me that he was a death eater." There's tears in her eyes. Sirius can't remember the last time he saw her cry, if he ever saw his mother cry. He wants to reach out and wipe the tears away, to comfort her. He doesn't, lets the years of hurt and hatred burn between them, a layer of protection to keep himself from thinking about his little brother.
"I saw the light disappear from his eyes and then one day he disappeared. Kreacher told me, said that Regulus was gone and there, on that stupid tapestry was the thing no mother ever wants to see. A death date." "Mum," he says, needing her to look at him again, to tell him that she will get him out and they can start again. She doesn’t look at him, keeps her eyes trained steadily straight ahead. He knows the method, has used it himself a million times before. Choose a point, any point and focus all your attention there to stop the tears falling and keep the sobs contained. It’s how he survived in that house, the most useful thing his mother ever taught him.
"You left to chase freedom and the Potters gave it to you. Fleamont took you to quidditch matches and to the pub. He bought you your watch and he taught you about the adult world." His heart shatters thinking about the Potters, everything that they had done for him. "You saw him as a father and you buried him as a son." His breath hitches as he remembers that horrible day that he buried his father. "You never thought of Orion like that. You didn't even come to his funeral, let a father be buried without a trace of the children he raised." He knows that this is true but it hurts to hear it out loud. To hear how fractured their relationship was, to hear how selfish he was, to hear again that Regulus was gone.
"Euphemia Potter called you her son in a book store once and you smiled at her but said nothing as if it had been said it a million times before." He knows the day she's talking about, the last week of summer before sixth year when a reporter tried to ask Euphemia about him living with her. It hadn't been the first time she had called him her son and he had paid little attention; much more interested in whatever James was saying. "She healed your cuts and took you out shopping. Taught you to cook and sent you off to school with hugs and kisses. You cried at her funeral, laid flowers on her grave and greeted guests as if you had always been her son." There's a bitter bite to her words, as if something more than hatred burns within her.
"What happened to the memories of me," she asks. "I used to sing you to sleep. I taught you piano and took you to the park. I loved you and you left me like none of that mattered." He has never heard his mother sound so sad, so hurt. It had felt like he was nothing but an heir to his parents but now he feels like everything he knew is becoming more and more distorted. Like the image is beginning to fade and the colours have changed from red to yellow and the sky is no longer blue. His time in grimmauld place was so linear, black and white. A time his mother loved him and the time she hated him. A time before Hogwarts and a time after he became Gryffindor. Now the paint is peeling away and the lines are blurring together as if she had never truly hated him but had hated his leaving. Or maybe he's wrong and she had never truly loved him but the idea of who he could have been.
"You left your family, you left me," she tells him. "I won't leave this time," he promises her. "I know you won't," she tells him. "You didn't kill the Potters and I don't believe you killed those muggles or that the Pettigrew kid is dead," she tells him. He can feel the pain melting away, freedom so close. "You did kill a brother though. Regulus died because you left. Your father died from grief because he lost all of his children." Her words are like a dagger. He wants to apologise, to tell her none of it was his fault. The words don't make it past his throat as realisation hits him.
"You left the family Sirius, that was your choice and maybe you didn't commit the crimes but you were still the reason that someone died. I didn't come here to forgive you or to save you. I came to say goodbye to you one last time and to remind you of everything you gave up."
"Please mum, please help me," he begs. He had felt so close to getting out and having Harry and Remus back. Now it has all been ripped away again. "You will die in here Sirius, and when you do I hope that I am your last thought," she tells him.
"Not my cruelty or why you ran away. No, I hope the last memories you have, the one that haunts your dying breath, are the memories from when you were young. When I sang you to sleep and we played the piano together. The memories of eating ice cream at the beach and dancing in the rain. I want you to remember just how good of a mother I was and how much you disappointed me. I want you to die regretting every decision you ever made and wishing that I was there with you and I will live happily knowing that you are getting exactly what you deserve."
He feels frozen to the spot. His mind is spinning and he can't focus on any one point. He wants to beg for her forgiveness, for her to help him get out. Scream about what a terrible mother she is, how much he never wants to see her again. He wants to cry in her arms and for her to sing him to sleep once more. He wants to curse her and remind her just how much he hates her.
She stands, letting his head hit the concrete floor. He looks up at her, a plea dying on his tongue. She had ignored him begging her to stop a million times. She had ignored his cries of pain. It wasn't a surprise that she didn't want to help him. It was to be expected that she would leave him to rot alone. The only surprise was that she had even bothered to see him.
He was as much her son as she was his mother, and Euphemia Potter was the only mum he ever had.