You just have to get through today.
Sirius stared up at the ceiling.
Just today, then you’ll be back at Hogwarts again.
His gray eyes followed the outline of the faded glow-in-the-dark stars plastered to the ceiling. He always thought they looked gray, but illuminated by the late afternoon sunlight shining in through his bedroom-window, his eyes looked more tealish-green than gray. The stickers above him were arranged in the Orion-constellation and he followed each curve and point while recalling the name of every star. Not very much unlike the stars, his arms and legs were sprawled out beside him and his velvety black hair fell on top of his pillow like the surging darkness of space.
Just today.
His gaze fell to land on the dress-robe hanging from the dark mahogany dresser. The velvety, black fabric hung heavy on the coat hanger. Just by looking at it, Sirius could feel the itch of the purple, laced collar and cuffs against his skin. Nevertheless, it was a beautiful piece of clothing. In its own way. But Sirius was well familiar with what to expect in accompaniment of such clothes. Or rather, he knew what was expected of him in such clothes. Therefore, it was not beauty he mainly associated it with.
Most of all, he didn’t feel like himself in those clothes. The fabric may have been fitted to perfection, kissing every inch of his skin as though welded to him like armor, and the colors might have been picked to perfectly match the hues of his pale skin. But it still wasn’t him.
The whole thing had been made to be a flawlessly accurate portrait of his expected representation as the heir to the Noble house of Black. It expressed everything his family represented, everything they wanted him to be and to become. But that was just the thing. That was not who he was. He had never wanted that.
“Siri-?”
Regulus' small frame suddenly appeared in the doorway, hands ceremoniously placed behind his back.
When they were smaller, Sirius would’ve heard him coming and recognise that it was him purely by the sound of his footsteps. Now, more often than not, he was startled as his little brother approached him. He could come and go, enter and exit rooms without anyone noticing. Over the years, he’d become unrecognisably quiet, always keeping his head down and barely ever talking unless spoken to. Sirius didn’t want to think too much about the reason for that.
“Mhm?” he answered mindlessly, eyes flickering back to the ceiling.
Somewhere along the way, meeting his brother's eyes had gotten hard. He didn’t know if it was because he feared not recognising what he saw or if he was scared that he’d recognise too much of himself in the cold gray eyes. Either way, it didn’t make it any easier.
He could feel Regulus' eyes on him, staring holes into his body. Wordlessly, he could hear him screaming, please just look at me. But he couldn’t.
“Maman says to get dressed,”
Regulus let his gaze fall from his brother, only to instead wander around the messy room.
“…and you should really clean up here before the guests arrive.”
Sirius huffed lightly. He wouldn’t have called what his room was, “a mess”. To him, it was perfectly arranged chaos and neatly staged frustration. Everything was placed in such a manner that his mother would dislike it but just not hate it enough to actually do something about it. He was experimenting with- and pushing the line she drew when it came to him expressing his distaste of her and her house. Technicall, it was chaos. But that was why he liked it. It was his chaos.
When Sirius didn’t respond, Regulus grew impatient.
“I’m serious,” he sighed.
”No, that would be me…” Sirius chuckled, amused by the old joke.
Regulus didn’t find it very funny.
“Agh for merlins- Sirius, just do it.”
Regulus didn’t mean to offend his brother by telling him to clean his room. Still, he knew that it would seem that way to Sirius. It was just that he knew that although their mother, while still far from tolerant, was letting Sirius have a lot his way even if she didn’t like it. But while their mother might be moderately open-minded, the other families might not be so indulgent. If anyone saw the red and gold banners with lions and the other Gryffindor merchandise which Sirius had glued to his walls and ceiling with a locking charm, or the makeup, the posters of muggle singers and the vinyl records, they might talk. It wasn’t just Sirius’ reputation among their family’s friends that might take a blow, however much or little he cared about that. Reputation was one thing Walburga valued highly and if Sirius gained any more attention, especially bad or that risked giving the Blacks a bad name, their mother might not be so forgiving.
“Brother, please.” He pleaded.
“I will, I will! Calm down.”
Before Sirius knew it, Regulus had disappeared again. He looked over at the place in which his brother had stood. The doorway looked suddenly much wider than before and almost uncomfortably empty. Searching for any trace left of his brother's silhouette in the air outside his room, he saw nothing more than stray specks of dust playing around in the sunshine.
At this, he sighed and carded a hand through his hair, closing his eyes to collect his thoughts. Then he got up.
Sitting himself down in front of the vanity, he found his own eyes in the mirror. They stared back at him, tired and expressionless, filled with an emotion he didn’t dare dwell on or understand. He’d lose his mind if he started pondering about all the emotions he didn't have time or room to feel. Instead, he tried to focus on the physical things in front of him. Naturally, his eyes caught on his obsidian hair as it fell heavy over his shoulders. It had gotten long. He looked almost like Regulus before he cut his hair. He cast that thought away before he could think about it further.
He tied it up neatly with the silver hair-pins he had gotten from his great grandmother on his 10th birthday. He let a few strands loose around his face and styled each one til he was satisfied. But after removing his clothes and changing into his dress-robes, it didn’t matter that his hair looked the way he wanted it to. He didn’t recognize himself in the mirror anymore anyway.
He put his fingers to his face and pulled at his skin, up and down and left and right. It was soft like clay and felt strange as he shaped it beneath his touch, scrunching and squeezing as he examined it in the mirror. Somehow, it was as if his reflection kept changing and morphing, showing him a version of himself that wasn’t quite right. A version that wasn’t quite him. He couldn’t place the reason for it either, but looking at his mirror-self, he felt as if he wasn’t really real or right. This had been happening more often recently than before, he’d noticed. Ever so often when passing a mirror, he didn’t find what he was looking for. He didn’t like it. It made him scared.
He tried to shake the feeling, letting go of his face to reveal slight red marks left on his cheeks from his fingers. The splash of color contrasted nicely against his pale complexion and for a slight second, he wondered where he could find such a color on a lipstick. But he let go of that thought quickly too.
Later that evening, once people started arriving, his room was clean. Clean in this context meant unrecognizable. His bed was made and the bedspread was tightly tucked to the sides. His clothes were gone from the floor and all his books and magazines had been placed, neatly arranged, in the bookshelves. The Gryffindor-merch had also been hidden away in his closets along with every muggle-item he owned and everything else that he associated with himself. Even Sirius knew that it would be both stupid and unnecessarily unsafe to keep them up.
He stood next to his mother and father right inside the front door, hands clasped behind his back as the guests walked in. Regulus pulled back uncomfortably behind him.
He took a deep breath, steadying his body as he mentally prepared himself for yet another night like this. This was just another Black-family banquet he had to survive. Another dinner he didn’t want to go to in clothes he didn’t want to wear. Another night with people he didn’t want to meet and the worship of a man and a faith he didn’t know and didn’t believe in. Another night of repressing everything he was and everything he wanted to be. He tried to convince himself that it would be fun. He couldn’t.
He greeted each guest with a polite nod and a whisper of a smile, keeping his hands comfortably still behind him. He would’ve shook their hand unless having been specifically taught not to. Apparently, according to his mother, it invoked and strengthened the status and authority of the pure Black family if they refrained from… handshakes? People were, in his mothers words; supposed to look up to and respect them, knowing their place below them like one would royalty. By shaking their hand, Sirius lowered himself to their level. This, of course, was far from desirable in Sirius’ parent’s opinion.
He greeted the Malfoys, Carrows, Rosiers and the Lestranges, distant cousins and far away family friends with children and servants. He tried to ignore the way everyone looked at him differently than his parents and brother, the same way they’d been doing ever since he got sorted into gryffindor. There was nothing he could do about it now anyway, and deep down he couldn’t care less that the friends of his parents didn’t like him very much. It actually made him feel accomplished rather than sad most days. But when forced into these situations where he was alone with people who he knew didn’t like him and were nothing like him, it was harder to feel proud.
Once everyone had arrived, he had counted them to be almost 50 people in total, filling the grand dining hall, which otherwise stood mostly empty. The air thickened with mischievous whispers, laughter and the clicking of high heels. With so many people filling the room, the high ceilings and wide spaces felt much smaller and confining than before. Now it wasn’t just his clothes that made it harder for Sirius to breathe.
Not too long after everyone had filed in and settled at the long table with their champagne glasses and appetizers in hand, the dinner appeared in front of them. There were charcuterie plates and baskets overflowing with all sorts of bread, delicacies from far away countries and boards filled with what must have been over 20 kinds of cheese. It was quite the feast, and Sirius especially looked forward to trying the grilled turkey and mushrooms sitting right in front of him.
He was just about to dig in when a piercing voice managed to overpower every other sound, sending shivers down his spine. Bellatrix had, fashionably late as usual, claimed her place right next to him and was currently testing the sharpness of her dinner knives against the wooden table. Her laugh was dead but her words could paint a very vivid picture.
“This is a good knife,” she sneered. She was grinning, twisting the knife in her hand while inspecting it closely. “I used a similar one on a mudblood once. I heard rumors afterwards that I had managed to carve all the way into the bone… but I suppose any knife could do that if you just pressed hard enough. Don’t you think, cousin?”
He tried not to give her the satisfaction of a reaction since he knew that she just wanted to frighten him. It didn't even matter if it was true or not. If he let her know that her words affected him, she’d just continue with more and worse things. He figured that maybe if he treated her like you would a bad dog, ignoring it until it stopped finding interest in chewing on an old shoe, then maybe she’d leave him alone.
Sirius didn’t know why Bella had found any particular liking or interest in him, but he figured that it mostly revolved around power when it came down to it. She knew she had the advantage over him in most ways relating to their families. She was, much like Sirius’s mother and father, a true pure-blood royalist and a Slytherin. She knew that despite her reckless and untrustworthy demeanor, they’d still value her word over Sirius’s. He was already the black sheep, the family scapegoat and the one used to set an example, so his parents didn’t find most things she said about him that far a reach. He’d gotten in trouble that way a couple of times already and that, he figured, was probably why she seemed to circle around him like a vulture.
Sirius continued to ignore her, acting as though she didn’t exist at all as she waited for him to say something back. When she was met with his no-response response, she burst out laughing maniacally.
“Oh but you actually care about those mudblood freaks, don’t you, Sirius?! I reckon you’ve got yourself quite some of them as pets at school, haven’t you?”
He didn’t answer, not in the mood to entertain her crazy at all. But she just continued talking.
“…not to mention that half-blood cripple you’re always following around like a puppy. What's his name..? Loony Lupin? When the Dark Lord rises, he’s-”
“Bella, shutup,” he snapped, pressing his words through grit teeth.
It came flying out of him like a tornado, and in the moment, it felt so good. But as he said it, he realized his mistake. The second he talked back, it was like pouring gasoline over a fire or water over burning oil. Suddenly, Bella had found something solid to catch on to and her enthusiasm shone through her eyes like lasers.
“Catch a nerve, did I?” She grinned even wider than before. “Is he your little boyfriend, Sirius?”
She was just teasing, but Sirius felt anxiety drop like heavy stones in his stomach. He suddenly felt cold and his mouth went uncomfortably dry.
“No,” he said, trying to sound unbothered to get her to let it go.
It didn’t seem to work as she burst out, exclaiming as if he’d just confirmed her every thought.
“HAH! You can be a faggot all you want by me, Sirius! The dark lord might even let you keep him if you ask nicely. I’d be more worried about…”
She glanced over to the end of the long table where Sirius's mother sat, talking politely to an old friend while sipping on her expensive wine. Despite seeming to be warmed up by her conversation, she looked almost as stern as always. Her brows lay heavy above her deep, dark eyes and her mouth rested, snarled, as soon as she wasn’t speaking. Her straight posture also told of her composure and calm, a well sewn façade. Sirius knew the truth.
As he followed Bellatrix’s gaze over towards his mother, Walburga Black turned towards him as well. She looked at him questioningly, almost accusatory, with her piercing gaze staring straight through him. Sirius could imagine what she would say if she found out the truth about him. If she knew the things he wanted, the longing for Remus’ touch, if only a slight graze of his hand. He could already hear her sharp voice in the back of his head, her words cutting like knives. He’d heard it all before.
He hadn’t noticed that he’d froze, his eyes stuck on his mother and his mind occupied with other thoughts than to stay vigilant of his surroundings. But he was quickly forced back to reality as Bellatrix made herself known again, having gotten so close now that he could hear her breathing in his ear.
No louder than a whisper, she said “…but don’t worry, cousin dear, I won't snitch. Your and your faggy little boyfriends secret is safe with me. ”
Uncomfortable, he turned his head to Regulus who was staring at him from across the table. His brother must’ve seen a slight crack of fear shining through his face because he cast a glance, eyes steadily telling him ”Careful. Don’t let her get to you.” Regulus was the only one who truly could read Sirius like a book. There had been a time where they almost could have completely silent conversations, knowing what the other was thinking just by a glance.
He released a breath he didn’t know he’d been holding and sat himself straighter in his chair.
Steadily, not even looking at his cousin, he said ”Fuck off.”
She laughed, slightly surprised, before retracting back into her seat.
For a second, Sirius let himself entertain the thought that he’d won. For just a second, he dared hope that she’d leave him alone and move on to ruining someone else's night. He would find very quickly that those thoughts were both wrong.
Quicker than Sirius could react or prevent it, Bellatrix grabbed his arm with the sharp claws she called fingers, slamming her knees into the table as she stood up. She forcefully pulled up the sleeve of his shirt and revealed his pale skin.
“So it’s true?!” She suddenly burst out, trying and managing to gain the attention of everyone around the table. Once everyone's eyes were on her, she continued. “You haven't gotten a mark?”
Sirius could feel his heart in his throat. Everyone was looking at him, at his arm. He’d barely understood what had happened before his mother began speaking. Her voice was calm, yet somehow booming like the one of an angry giant in the room.
“Not now, Bella. Sit back down.”
But she didn’t sit down. Instead, she put her own arm next to Sirius’s. The dark mark contrasted strongly against her skin. Somehow, she was even paler than Sirius. She pointed to her mark as she continued speaking.
“But how can we trust him unless we know that he’s one of us? How can we trust that he won't try to stop us- stop His plan, unless he has sworn allegiance!?”
She then turned to speak to the other people around the table, her voice theatrically shaky.
“I don’t think this dinner can continue unless he takes the mark. Don’t you agree?”
She asked the question and sparked the idea in everyone's head. Immediately, people around the table started whispering amongst themselves and nodding carefully. Sirius saw the way Walburgas' gaze fell almost insecure over the people around her as they talked about him. She turned to Orion, whose face remained as stern and emotionless as always as he met her gaze. She said nothing, but through that one look, the two of them had had a whole conversation.
One thing Sirius knew about his mother was that she was as good as immune to Bellatrix’s bullshit. She knew her power and status above her niece and rarely to never let herself be affected by anything Bella said. But another thing he knew about Walburga Black was she was far from immune to other peoples opinions on her and her family. She would do almost anything, go to any lengths, to ensure that their reputation remained unspoiled and spotless. Knowing this, Sirius shouldn’t have been surprised over the next words she spoke. Still, he felt the panic wash over him in freezing waves from nowhere.
“Very well. I suppose it’s time.” She said, her smile plastered on her face in an attempt to convey the idea to her guests that the turn of events hadn’t caught her off guard at all.
Sirius ripped his arm back from Bellatrix’ grip as he realized the weight of his mothers words.
“No!”
He rose from his chair immediately, the legs of it scraping against the floor uncomfortably loud as he stood up. A sudden urge to evaporate crept up on him and everything felt too much. Held under not only his mothers gaze but also the gaze of everyone else in the room, he felt incredibly small and childishly insignificant. But fear wasn’t what he was feeling the most. He figured pretty soon that he was more angry than afraid.
He turned to his father, seeking help in his calm eyes. But as usual, his father neither could or would disagree with his mother and Orion didn’t say a word. Next, he turned to his brother, sure that there, he’d find at least some kind of comfort or sympathy. But once he did, he found that Regulus was probably the only person in the whole room who wasn’t looking at him. Instead, his brother's eyes were fixed on his own hands in front of him on the table, his whole body so still that you barely could tell that he was even breathing. Sirius didn’t understand why Regulus’ expression suddenly was stuck as if he was a moment away from falling apart. What he found, seeking the comfort in his brother's eyes, surprised him greatly and he couldn’t explain why, but he felt almost betrayed.
“No,” he echoed. He held his arm tighter against himself as if to hide it from everyone looking at him. “I will never join you! I’ll never follow him.”
“Son-”
Orion had heard enough, talking for what must’ve been the first time the entire night. But Walburga quickly paused him by putting a firm hand on his shoulder. The man sat back down in his chair, closing his mouth.
“Stay here,” She said, still unnaturally calm. “Let me deal with him.”
She stood up calmly from her chair, her tall figure towering over the table and casting a shadow that could put fear even in the bravest hearts. No one dared make a sound and as she slowly walked over to Sirius where he stood almost at the other side of the room. Her heels clicking on the ground was the only thing anyone could hear except for Sirius’ upset breathing as she closed in on him. With her steel-gaze over him, he suddenly felt so small.
“Mum, no…”
“Imperio.”
Sirius’ mouth clamped shut in an instant. Neither his body or mind belonged to himself anymore and he felt shame fill his veins like poison. He stood there, like a statue at an art exhibition, observed and interpreted as a thing rather than a person. Nobody said anything. Nobody dared to even move as his mother used the unforgivable on him, easy as if it was nothing. She was toying with him like a puppet master, pulling his strings to make him perform for the audience. She made his body move on its own away from the table and out of the room into the dark hallway outside. As he went, he saw Regulus finally raise his head to look at him. But by the time his brother had found the courage to move, Sirius was already outside the room.
Behind him, he could hear his father telling everyone to resume their meals. Before they’d gotten too far away, the idle dinner-chats continued where they had been left off and the scraping of silverware against porcelain plates crowded the air. Life moved on even as Sirius went away. But all those sounds faded closer to nothing with each step Walburga made Sirius take away from the dining hall.
His mother moved him in silence up the stairs and into the upstairs lounge. Until they’d gotten inside, Sirius couldn’t see her face and Walburga didn’t say a word. The silence was almost worse than anything else. He could just imagine what awaited once they stopped walking. He didn’t want to.
As expected, once inside, the storm began raging.
She pushed him to the floor, only just letting go of her curse over him in time to let him catch his fall with his hands. He felt pain shoot like spikes up his wrists as he made contact with the ground.
His body felt unnaturally heavy and his mind distraught and exhausted, symptoms he had gotten used to associating with the aftermaths of the imperius-curse. Pushing himself up with tired arms, he tried to get himself off the floor. But he was too tired to get all the way before Walburgas' piercing voice paralyzed him.
“How dare you…” she snarled, no louder than a whisper. Her next words were much louder. “How dare you humiliate us- humiliate me like this?!”
Sirius could feel his blood freezing in his veins. She’d been angry with him before. Many times. But there was something different about her voice this time. There was something erratic, something incalculable buzzing at the edges of her voice. He disliked not knowing what to expect and feared the implications of something he didn’t recognize.
“We have been nothing but patient with you. Nothing but generous!”
She caught his eyes in hers and he suddenly found it impossible to look away. He was nailed under her gaze like a mouse stuck in a mouse-trap as she started pacing the room. She didn’t let him out of sight for a second. He kept his back straight, his face leveled and calm despite the hurricane of feelings swirling around behind his dark eyes. He refused to submit to her or show her that he was afraid. He supposed that that was the core problem in their relationship. She craved power and he never gave it to her willingly. It was also the main reason for why he had gotten such a high pain tolerance.
“You’ve always been… deficient. But lately, your behavior has been completely unacceptable.”
She spat the words like the mere taste of them on her tongue disgusted her. When she suddenly stopped in her tracks, the clicking of her heels dying out, her eyes fogged over slightly.
“-and, you know… it might be my fault. These little outbursts of yours, this constant disrespect- I’ve let this go on for too long. But no more! Under my roof, you obey me. It's time you learn your place.”
“I’ll nev-”
“Diffindo!”
Sirius flinched at the pain before his mind had even registered what had happened. He hissed as the spell left his mothers mouth and felt his back stinging and hurting as if someone had slashed a knife across it. The open gash on his back stung as the blood trickled out in heavy red drops. Sticking to his skin as it got wet, the velvet robes quickly became soaked with warm blood. He could feel the fabric moving against his sore skin with each breath he took.
Not too long ago, Sirius had been happy to find that his scars were fading after what had felt like forever. He hated the wounds but he hated the scars they left behind even more. Everything was fine as long as he was at Hogwarts. The only scars he could get there was from playing quidditch, and that was fine. But now he supposed he was back on square one. It was always worse when she hurt him on his back. There was no way for him to reach to take care of or cover the wounds and they'd stick to his clothes and get infected. He’d learned the hard way that infected wounds hurt much more than the initial cuts ever could.
He stared at his mother, the pain fuelling a new kind of anger inside him. It was raging hot and dangerously violent, threatening to spew out of him like fireworks. The adrenaline also worked through him in the same way that caffeine could, the sudden rush giving him what felt like endless energy. With the help of this newfound strength, he finally managed to stand up.
Now eye to eye with his mother, he could see the hatred in her eyes clearer than ever. There was no remorse, no conscience in which she could feel anything but disgust as she looked at him. It wasn’t hard for her to hurt him. To her, he was nothing more but an inanimate object, a means to an end, a thing to which she could do whatever she found necessary in order to accomplish her goals. In her eyes, he was hers in the same way you could own a dog. He had been starting to wonder if the woman from his childhood and his mother were really the same person. It was a bizarre thought to think that the one who used to brush his teeth and stitch him up when he fell and scraped his knee, was the same woman who now stood in front of him, wand raised high. Because he knew that there had been love in her eyes once. He knew that they had used to laugh with each other and that he had looked up to her at some point. Anger hadn’t always been the root of their relationship.
But that didn’t really matter at the moment. Sirius was angry now and before he could even think about what he was doing, he had already begun yelling back at her.
“You can’t just shut me up whenever I say something you don’t like! I’m not going to-”
“ENOUGH!”
Her wand moved like a whip through the air, swishing as it went. Sirius’ head flew to the side as forcefully as if he’d been hit with a hammer and his hand immediately reached to cover his chin. She had, in fact, effectively managed to shut him up and once he’d recovered from the initial shock, he felt the pain blossoming in his face like an explosion. He moved his hand to look at the sticky substance coating his fingers but first when he felt the blood running down his chin did he understand that her lash had cut a deep and precise line in his face. The pain pulsated like a tornado siren along with his heightened heartbeat and the sensation only got worse with every second. He tried in vain to dry the blood with the sleeves of his robe but it only resulted in them getting damp and heavy against his wrists. The blood didn’t seem to stop.
For a second, he’d almost forgotten that his mother was still in the room with him. But as she usually did, she made herself known again. And as usual, Sirius wished he hadn’t heard her.
“Why couldn’t you have been more like your brother?”
Very many things happened very quickly the next second that followed. Sirius’ head had snapped back to glare daggers into the woman in front of him. His teeth were grit to the point of breaking against each other and if looks could kill, Walburga Black would have been bleeding out on the ground. He was angry for so many reasons that it all resulted in a kind of blind rage he hadn’t recognised in himself for a very long time. Years after years of old grievances resurfaced and he completely lost himself in the suddenly burning fear of being trapped. A circus animal, a performer with nowhere else to go but to his abuser. He was so angry that he hadn't at all noticed that he’d even reached for his wand until it flew out of his hand after a well articulated “expelliarmus” and a swift flick of his mothers wand.
Once he regained consciousness, startled awake not only by the thundering lightning bolt that had shot from his mother’s wand but also the jolt that shot through his body as he lost his wand, he noticed that the distance between them had closed in significantly. Seeing his wand halfway across the room and then his mothers eyes in front of him, he regretted ever moving. He was impulsive, not stupid, and he knew that this was something his mother wouldn’t tolerate. Before he could react or ponder about it further, he would be proven to be right.
Walburga raged towards him, intimidating and fast, with her wand held steadily aimed at his throat. He walked backwards as she started pressing it into his skin, backing away until he hit the wall behind him with a thud. She pinned him so close to it that had it been any thinner, he figured it would've given out as he leaned his weight against it. Her wand pressed like a spear into his neck and he feared for a second that she’d actually break it.
He suddenly wasn’t that angry anymore. Now, he was mostly just scared, gasping for breath as if all the air had been sucked out of the room.
“Don’t. Test. Me. Sirius.” Walburga growled.
She was so close to him that Sirius could smell the death in her breath. There was no turning back from this. She wouldn’t be letting him go unless he fought back or submitted.
“Forgive me-” he hissed, no longer meeting his mothers eyes.
She looked at him calculating, surprised that rather than cursing at her, he was apologizing.
Backing away slightly and letting her wand fall from Sirius’ throat, it was as if she thought that Sirius had given up. As if he’d finally caved. But in that short moment where she let down her guard, Sirius found his exit. His hands turned to fists at his sides and he clenched his jaw. He didn’t know what would happen once he did what he was planning to, but he supposed that he’d figure that out when the problem arose
With a swift movement, he sent his fist flying through the air, straight towards Walburgas face. She didn’t even seem to understand what was happening until the punch sent her reeling towards the floor. As she hit the ground, cursing and grunting, Sirius started bolting towards the door. As quickly as his feet let him, he ran for his life. To where, he didn’t know. He just knew that he couldn’t stay.
And he almost made it. His fingers grazed the door handle, the metal cold in his trembling hand. He could taste freedom at the tip of his tongue, feel the safety in the tips of his fingers. He was so close. But he wasn’t close enough.
His heart stopped as he heard his mother howl in fury behind him. He thought that he died.
“CRUCIO.”
He fell instantly. Straight down. Hard.
But neither the fall or the pain as he hit the ground bothered him. He wouldn’t have known either way.
Stray tears betrayed him and rolled from his eyes into his face. He would’ve tried to blink them away, but he couldn’t move. No part of his body could react accordingly to his mind and every muscle seemed to cramp up until they were hard as stone. Some of the salty drops fell into the open wound in his chin but he didn’t even feel it. His eyes were clamped shut and all he could see was red.
He wanted to scream. For help or for mercy. He would’ve done anything as the intensity of the pain made losing his mind sound like heaven. The pain was overwhelming everything else but he could feel that his mouth was open. He even felt the strain from a loud cry on his vocal chords. But he couldn’t hear his own voice. He wasn’t even completely sure that he was making any sound at all. It seemed nothing could escape him. Not even air.
It was a pain like nothing he had ever experienced before. You couldn’t even compare it to anything if you tried. It wasn’t like a burn or a cut or a broken bone. It was everything and nothing at the same time. It was the line between life and death, both worlds tearing at your body to claim it. But neither won, you were just stuck in that inbetween, breaking further apart every second. You couldn’t panic or scream or beg for help. You couldn’t kill yourself to make it go away. Completely left at someone else's mercy, you couldn’t even think clear enough to ever hope for a release. Time seemed to move backwards and in circles around you, playing with you like a toy and making it impossible to see an end. Nothing seemed real. Nothing except the pain.
The pain was real.
Real and so strong and so sharp that not even death could laugh. Not even death was that cruel. And you’d think that whatever god was out there would take pity on you and let you fall unconscious at that level of pain. But rather on the contrary, it was so painful that not even oblivion could save you. The curse constantly kept you from escaping it. It kept you awake.
It spiraled through Sirius’ body. Through every limb, through every atom and every fiber of his being. His blood was boiling in his veins, his skin burning and blistering and disintegrating on his living corpse. Every bone was creaking and breaking inside him, grinding against themselves until there was nothing but sand and grit. His spine was twisting and turning, scratching and clawing at his skin from inside. Sirius was convinced that his whole body was broken and that it was rearranging into something that wasn’t even him any more. He was drowning and burning up at the same time. Exploding continuously, over and over again. Still conscious enough to feel everything.
But there was no room for feelings or thoughts. No possible future in which the agony would ever stop. Freedom seemed just a fantasy. There was just pain. Nothing but. He, as a being, was reduced to pain.
Then it stopped.
He gasped. Taking what felt like his first breath ever. The cold air filled his feverish lungs and sent chills down his spine. He was shivering and trembling on the floor right inside the door as the panic settled like dust on a battlefield. His body was physically fine apart from the way his muscles desperately tried to recover from the immense strain that had been put on them. His mind however, was far from ok. The memory of the pain stayed as real in his head as if it was still ongoing. It flashed in front of his eyes and lingered in his skin like a brand. Simply existing suddenly seemed like an impossible task.
There was fatigue, heavy like a steel-blanket covering his body, and he couldn’t move. He didn’t even seem to have the strength to raise his head. But from where he laid on the stone floor, he could still see his mother.
Walburga had gotten up from the floor herself. Some blood had run from a crack in her lip and as she walked toward him, she looked angrier than Sirius had ever seen her.
“m-mum…” he stuttered, voice breaking as he panted. “...mum, pl-please d-”
“Silence.”
Her voice was hollow. Ghostly cold.
“You are taking the dark mark tonight.”
He opened his mouth to refuse, but she cut him off before he could manage to utter a word.
“Not up for discussion-”
Glaring up at her, he didn’t even try to talk back this time. He couldn’t change her mind either way.
“Don’t make this harder than it has to be, Sirius. I’ll make you if I have to... I won’t hold back.”
“I WILL NEVE-”
When Walburga cut him off once again, she sounded more tired than angry.
“Crucio.”
Sirius screamed, at first more out of fear than pain. Because once the pain kicked in, it muted him completely. And the pain only got worse the second time around. He couldn’t imagine anything worse than this.
Once he returned, nothing could stop the sobs from wreaking his body. He cried like a child, curled up on the floor. Closing his eyes, he prayed to disappear to somewhere he didn’t have to experience any of this. Somewhere where he didn’t have to live through the pain or fear or anger which had become the Black-family brand. But Walburga didn’t give him a break. As soon as she let go of the curse, her voice cut through the air like a knife.
“Care to try again?” she asked.
Despite everything, he wouldn’t cave in. He refused to. If he had to choose between betraying everything he stood for, his friends, his Moony or death; he chose death. No matter how much he would have to suffer to get there. He was nothing if he wasn’t loyal to that. He’d never follow someone driven purely by hate.
“Never,” he wheezed, bracing himself for the pain he knew was to come.
He didn’t even catch her saying the word before the pain started this time. Hell and back. He was getting used to the commute now. His body was dangerously tired and his mind undesirably clear despite the delirious state he was left in once the pain subsided. She was breaking him. He could barely breathe once he came back around but a plea to escape the pain still pressed through his lips as the tears streamed down his face.
“mum…” he whimpered.
He trembled on the floor where he laid, his whole body shaking uncontrollably from the trauma. There were tear streaks all across his face and his hair was wet with a mix of salt water and the blood running from his cheek. Mouth filled with the taste of iron, he realized that he’d clenched his jaw so tightly that he’d drawn blood. It trickled out between his cracking, red lips and dripped to the floor. It was a taste he knew well and he clinged to the familiarity of it as his world seemed to crumble around him. He could barely do anything but cry now.
“You’re doing this to yourself, Sirius,” she told him coldly. “You can make it stop whenever you want.”
She paused for a second, waiting for Sirius to respond or give her any indication that he was conscious enough to hear what she was saying. Sirius stayed quiet and still, relishing the slight moment of calm. His heart cried at the hopelessness of the situation. Usually, he was good at always managing to find some kind of light in even the darkest situations. But he couldn’t think of anything now.
Then he heard footsteps right outside the door. He recognised them instantly. Light and carefully articulate.
Regulus was making sure he could hear him, walking loudly enough for Sirius to recognise his brother's steps but quiet enough for Walburga not to hear him. Sirius would have smiled if he had been strong enough to.
He let his eyes wander out through the small crack in the door and very well did he find Regulus standing right outside. Just knowing that he was there, knowing that he wasn’t alone, made it easier for him to breathe. He couldn’t see his brother very clearly but if he had, he would've seen the terror which filled Regulus’s expression as he saw him.
Regulus had been over himself with worry ever since Walburga had taken Sirius with her from the dinner table. He couldn’t eat or drink or think about anything other than Sirius. He’d excused himself after a while, not having to walk far into the hallway outside before he heard both his brother and mother’s raised voices from upstairs. He could hear her anger rumbling in the walls and Sirius’ agonized crying shaking the porcelain and silverware.
Sirius had a bad habit of forgetting anything he knew about self-preservation when it came to their mother. What Regulus found once he’d made his way up the stairs, if anything, was proof of that. He would say that he was surprised, but that would be lying. Terror was a more fitting word, he figured, to describe what he felt as he saw his brother through the crack in the door, trembling and covered in blood on the floor. Regulus did feel scared.
He had never seen Sirius so weak. So wounded. Barely awake, hardly strong enough to carry a breath of air in his chest as he shuddered, Sirius looked utterly broken. And he was crying. Sirius didn’t cry. Never in front of her.
“Diffindo.”
Regulus lost Sirius's eyes as they rolled back into his head from the pain when their mother slashed another cut into his back. His brother's face twisted and he let out a strained whimper as she ripped up his skin.
“Get up and face me!”
Walburga roared as she drew another harsh line in Sirius’ back with her wand.
“Get,” another slash, “UP!” and one more.
She continued, hurting Sirius relentlessly and sparing him no time to move or answer her between the curses. She cut and cut and cut until Sirius barely even reacted anymore.
Regulus felt his heart ache in his chest and imagined the pain she invoked on his brother. As he saw it happen, a mere spectator of the crime that was getting worse with each second, he decided that he couldn’t just stand there and watch anymore. He put a hand on the door, ready to push his way inside when a flash of panic struck Sirius’ eyes like lightning. He started shaking head, a motion so small that it was barely visible. But Regulus saw it.
“Let her,” he mouthed, lips trembling as he formed the words. “Leave.”
And he most probably would have. Left, that is. He would have and he hated himself for it. He would have left, had their mother not noticed that Sirius had his attention directed to something other than her. As she followed his eyes out the door, squinting to see properly through the dark she found the dark silhouette of her favourite son. Outside the door, she found Regulus.
“Regulus, cherie…” she called, singing. Her voice was suddenly soft in a way she’d never let it be when talking to Sirius. But it was sinister. “Stop lingering outside the door and come in here, honey.”
“NO, MUM, LEAVE HIM OUT OF THIS-” Sirius struggled desperately to get up from the floor. But he ended up just falling straight down as his tired limbs continued to fail him. He would do anything to make sure Regulus didn’t get hurt like this, but he found his body falling short of everything he wanted it to do. “Reggie, don’t-”
Walburga ignored him and waited patiently until Regulus pushed the creaking door open in front of him like she knew he eventually would. For a few moments, he stood there outside the door, eyes on his mother, head held high, back straight. He was everything she wanted him to be. Everything Sirius refused to become.
“Oui, maman…”
“Sirius is being stubborn. Maybe you could get him to reconsider? Come here, honey.”
Regulus didn’t answer. Eyes flickering between their mother and Sirius, there was an emotion on his face that Sirius couldn’t translate. It was a kind of mix of panic and fear, a kind of anxiety Sirius didn’t know in which context to place. When some time passed and Regulus still didn’t move, Walburga hovered across the floor to his side, taking his hand softly in hers. She put her face next to Regulus’ ear and whispered.
“Show your brother your arm, would you, please.”
Regulus reached for the sleeve of his robe hesitantly and slowly. He looked directly at Sirius. There was desperation in his eyes, now. Sirius couldn’t tell if they were pleading “Please forgive me,” or “Please don’t hate me.” Butthey seemed to beg for him to understand. Still, he didn’t say anything.
He pulled up the sleeve and looked away from his own skin as if repulsed by it. Sirius could physically feel his heart shatter in chest as he saw it.
“no…” he gasped, horrified. “No- Reggie, say you didn’t-”
The dark mark was embedded deep in Regulus’s skin. The black snake and the skull laid dark and heavy on his little brother's wrist, burdening and heavy with truth. It was so much more than just a tattoo, so much more than just a vow. Sirius felt sick. Regulus couldn’t look at him anymore.
“It didn’t hurt that bad, did it, Regulus?”
Walburga was the only one smiling.
“No, mum.” Regulus mumbled obediently.
It was as if she was enjoying herself as she watched them squirm. She kept talking to Regulus but Sirius couldn’t hear them anymore. His eyes were nailed on Regulus’s arm. He’d never unsee that. And he’d never forgive himself for not noticing.
“How could you..?” he asked under his breath. “REGULUS, HOW COULD YOU?!”
Fury radiated from his body like the heat of a fire. It pressed through his fatigue and made a home inside his bones. He was angry. But not necessarily at Regulus, and not really at this. This just made him sad. But the only way he knew how to express that sadness was through anger. He was like his mother in that sense.
Regulus wasn’t good with anger though. He’d inherited his calm from their father and anger wasn’t a familiar emotion to him the way it was to Sirius. He was scared of the conflict and the aftermath of it. Mostly because he’d be forced to pick up the pieces.
That was most probably the biggest difference between the two Black-brothers. They were very similar in many ways, but not when it came to anger, fear and sadness. That difference often made it very hard for them to communicate in a way in which they both understood each other. They wanted the same thing. Safety. But they didn’t want it in the same way. Sirius knew that he’d never be safe as long as he stayed with their mother. Regulus knew that he’d be safe as long as he never strayed from her path.
“Brother, please be rational! Just-”
Regulus tried to help. It only made everything worse. When Sirius opened his mouth again, there was nothing but resentment in his voice. Despite his weakened state, he could still forge his words like a sword and Regulus felt it pierce straight through his heart. He’d been sure for quite some time now that he didn’t have one, but Sirius knew right where to stab.
“We might share the same blood, you and I… but you, Regulus ArcturusBlack, are no brother of mine!”
"Nonsense!"
Walburga let go of Regulus’s arm and raised her wand, pointing it at Sirius once again. Dread filled not only Sirius’s body, but also Regulus’s. Regulus was the only one who tried to stop her.
“No, mum, it’s fine!” He begged, putting his hand on her wand. “Please, he’s just angry. He doesn’t mean it.”
She paused for a second, lowering her wand slightly until Sirius burst out once again.
“I MEAN EVERY WORD!” he growled “FUCK YOU AND YOUR MERCY! I DON’T NEED IT! I DON’T WANT IT!”
He wasn’t thinking straight anymore. He didn’t care if he got hurt. The only thing he knew was that he’d never let his mother win. It didn’t matter to him anymore if he lost. He’d already lost his brother, already failed. He didn’t care if he lost anything else as long as she didn’t win.
“I’m not afraid to hurt you, Sirius.” Walburga threatened “This is your last chance…”
“I’d. Rather.Die.”
“Crucio!”
And there it was again. Agony.
Regulus looked away as his mother began torturing his brother. He didn’t want to see the way his body strained in pain on the floor or the way his limbs twisted in ways by which he feared they might break themselves. He didn’t want to know that he was the reason for it. He thought that if he looked away, then maybe he could pretend it wasn’t happening. But he couldn’t keep out the broken bellow which escaped Sirius' throat like a death-howl. He couldn’t unhear the utter terror in his brother's voice as he experienced an excruciating torment so inhumanly painful that anything else would seem pale in comparison. He would never forget.
When the curse finally retracted back into Walburgas wand, Sirius fell slack on the floor. His throat had gotten raw from screaming and even breathing sounded painful as he heaved for air. He was freezing, clutching his trembling hands on his chest in hope of finding any kind of warmth. He didn’t find it.
“You can make it stop. Just say it.”
“n-no-” he shivered.
“Crucio.”
Sirius figured he knew how Remus felt now. He wished that his Moony never had to experience the kind of pain he was experiencing now, but if his transformations every full moon was anything like this pain, at least now he could understand it. He also understood just how good of a person his Moony was. To withstand such pain and continue being so kind and so soft despite it. It was a wonder. Because surely, Sirius would have gone mad if it was him. Surely, he thought, he already had.
He found it kind of bittersweet to think of Remus at a time like this. There wasn’t even a guarantee that he’d ever see him again, he realized. This night could well end as his last. If that was the case, he couldn’t have been happier that it was Remus, of all things, that was on his mind.
“Say. It.”
“p-please, please sto-”
There was no telling the pain apart from anything else anymore. Everything had begun floating together. He knew that it stopped and that it began, it happened very quickly now, but he wasn’t sure when it happened and he didn’t really feel a difference anymore. The breaks were so short that the pauses only made the pain hurt more once it resumed.
“mum…”
“SAY. IT.”
He couldn’t take much more.
“SAY IT!”
He thought he’d die for sure.
“SAY IT!”
Regulus was frozen in fear, listening to his mother as she shouted curse after curse, each just as merciless. Listening to his brother wailing in pain as she hit him with it over and over, he felt it breaking him down as well.
But his whole word stopped spinning when suddenly Sirius screams started dying out. When they faded and eventually ceased altogether.
He opened his eyes to look towards his brother, not even having realized that he ever shut them until he had to pry them open. What he saw once he did, terrified him to the core. Sirius had stopped responding. Walburga kept hitting him with the curse but nothing happened. Only his body reacted to the pain, straining and twitching as his back arched to its breaking point. But his mind was somewhere completely else. His eyes were glazed over and far away. It was like looking at a doll. Nothing left but a shell of the person who had once been inside Sirius’s black eyes.
He’d heard of people being destroyed completely, broken beyond repair by the same curse which his mother now let off her tongue so easily. He’d heard what could happen to you if you were hit by it just once. By now, Sirius would’ve been hit by it more than amply. He’d never hoped he’d see it happen in person. He’d never thought he would have to fear seeing it happen to his brother.
But Walburga didn’t stop. She kept going even as Sirius faded away. She didn’t seem to be completely present anymore either, not noticing that she’d finally gone too far. Not even stopping for long enough to see that Sirius had stopped moving.
“Maman, s'il te plaît, arrête! Vous allez le tuer!”
Mum, please, stop! You’re going to kill him!
He begged through tears, but she didn’t seem to hear him. His panic rose like a flash flood in his chest while his voice broke.
“Maman! Arrête!”
Mum! Stop!
He was scared, but he knew exactly what he had to do to save Sirius. And he just had to trust that he was brave enough to do it. Because, the only thing Regulus knew for sure was that if she didn’t stop, if he didn’t stop her, he’d lose his brother. And that was a fate and a future in which he wouldn’t be able to live.
So without thinking any further, he ran to cover Sirius, throwing his arms around his body. His brother was cold but still breathing. Still alive. That was all that mattered and also all he managed to register before the pain hit him. The red beam of light cast from his mothers wand hit him in the back with a snap. For a few seconds, all he knew was pain. Red, hot, furiously insidious, indescribable pain. Then it ended, just as quick. But once it did, he could do nothing but cry.
“Regulus!”
Walburga exclaimed as she realized what had happened. There was remorse in her eyes. Regret even.
“Mum, please leave him. Don’t hurt him any more.”
Regulus cried into his brother's chest, his words muffled by his robes. He wouldn’t let him go.
“Please leave him tonight!”
“I-”
Walburga looked down at her sons. She saw Regulus’s broken frame over Sirius's trembling body. She saw her eldest, staring unseeing into the ceiling, tears and blood drying on his cheeks as he struggled to breath past his pain. She looked down at her hands and saw her own mother in her furrowed palms. She looked down at her hands and saw everything in herself she had promised to never become.
“We’ll finish this tomorrow. Tell your brother to make up his mind.”
That was all she said before she made her way out the room and down the stairs, back to the still ongoing dinner. Regulus followed her footsteps down the steep staircase and listened closely until he heard the guests greeting her back to their company.
“Why do you always have to be so difficult?!” He cried. “Why can’t you ever just do what she says, huh Sirius?!”
He tried to stifle his sobs but everything suddenly came crashing down on him as their mother had left the room.
“Why can’t you just keep your head down?! You know she’s going to hurt you- you ALWAYS know she’s going to hurt you and you still- Why can't you just set your pride aside for once?! FOR ONCE?! At least try to stay safe! It’s not that hard. It doesn’t have to be this hard…”
There was no guarantee that Sirius could hear him at all, but for once he was glad that he got to say what he thought. It was rare for Sirius to leave the last word to anyone else than himself. This time, Regulus got to the end of his sentence without interruption.
“I’m sorry I can’t protect you. I’m sorry I-”
He choked down his tears as he reached for a small glass vial in the inner pocket of his robe. It was filled with a deep purple liquid, which in the dimly candle-lit room looked almost pure black.
“Don’t worry,” He said, trying to collect himself, “I’m not going to let her hurt you anymore.”
He knew exactly what to do and how much to use, because contrary to what Sirius believed, this wasn’t the first time Walburga had used the cruciatus curse on him. Walking up the stairs from the dining room, Regulus already knew a possible outcome of the situation. Therefore, it had been nothing but instinct that had let him grab the vial of sleeping draught from the potions-cabinet. He knew that sometimes the only way for Walburga to stop hurting Sirius was to render her attacks useless. To make her stop by getting Sirius unconscious. It was equally sad and true.
Today, however, seeing the lengths their mother was willing to go to hurt his brother, Regulus formed a new plan.
He let a few drops of the potion fall into his brother's open mouth, watching the effects of it kick in instantly. The restless tremble in Sirius’s body stopped and his eyes closed shut as he fell asleep. He looked much more relaxed but the memory of the pain still lingered in the crevices of his face.
Once his brother was asleep, he put the lid back on the potion-vial and put it away. He went over and grabbed Sirius’s wand from the other side of the room before putting it back in the pocket of his brother's robe. It was drenched with sweat and blood but he wouldn’t have time to change it.
Once back by his brother's side, he pointed the tip of the wand to Sirius’s head, resting it on his forehead. There was a moment of hesitation before he could do anything else. He didn’t know how much of what had happened he would be able to erase. His magic was good but not good enough to erase it all. All he could hope for was that he’d be able to help Sirius forget the worst of it. Maybe, he wouldn’t have to remember the pain. If he was lucky, Regulus dared hope that Sirius would forget about his mark. God knows he wished he could. But erasing too much could be dangerous as well. Despite how much it pained him, he wanted to make sure that Sirius didn’t return. And for that, he needed to remember why he had to leave.
The ministry of magic couldn’t trace the magic back to him inside Grimmauld place, thanks to a spell put by their parents, so he didn’t have to worry about using magic outside of school as he tasted the word on his tongue. Feeling his heart sink to his stomach, he let a mere whisper fall from his lips.
“Obliviate.”
The tip of the wand lit up with a soft blue-ish light before fading back to nothing. Easy as that, it was done. Regulus could only hope that it did what he needed it to and that it’d be enough.
He grabbed Sirius’s arms and dragged him with him towards the fireplace. There was only one place where he could guarantee his safety, and it was not there. Not at home. Not with him. Sirius had another brother who could take care of him in a way that Regulus never could. He was thankful for it. But as he reached for the flew-powder on the mantle, he felt nothing but devastated. Scattering it over his brother and into the fireplace, he let a few tears fall down his cheeks before whispering:
“Dower House, Potter Estate.”
He watched the green flames appear in the fireplace and cover his brother in their warmth. He watched them take him with them and disappear into the air in a cloud of light green dust and a howl of the wind.
If Sirius had been awake, he would’ve heard the raised voices that filled the room right as the green fire engulfed him. He would've heard his mothers footsteps as they advanced closer, angrily. He would’ve heard his brother being dragged away from the fireplace, begging for forgiveness, begging for mercy despite letting Sirius away. He might even have heard and felt the vague echo of a curse before every part of him had been sent away from his childhood home.
But Sirius wasn’t awake. And when he woke up, he wouldn’t remember anything his brother had done. He wouldn’t remember anything but the pain and that he’d escaped it. He wouldn’t know the sacrifices Regulus had made, the pain he’d withstood for his sake. He wouldn’t know what Regulus had done to keep him safe. Once back in school, he would see nothing more than a couple of bruises and scrapes on Regulus's skin and wonder what might’ve happened. He would never ask for the answer.
But he would know that his brother had saved him that night. Because through the delirious dreamlike state he’d been in when he left Grimmauld Place, he could hear a voice calling out to him. He heard it faintly at first, then it got louder and louder until he heard it right next to him. He couldn’t make out any words or feelings other than that he could tell that it sounded worried. But once Sirius heard it, he wasn’t scared anymore. He recognised the voice of his brother and knew at once that he was safe. He would recognize James’ voice anywhere.