Person and Son
WEDNESDAY. NOVEMBER 3, 1971
Sirius Black plays favorites. He always has. Obviously, James is his favorite roommate. No Question. He prefers Juliette Wilkes to Edmund Avery, especially now that Ed’s been cosying up to Severus. Sirius prefers Father to Mother, and he likes Regulus most out of anyone. Though, Andy’s always been a close second.
That’s why Sirius isn’t the least bit surprised to see an open seat directly across from Andromeda. In fact, he’s quite pleased.
He is significantly less pleased, however, about the other attendants.
Lucius, for one, would not have been welcome had Sirius been tasked with planning his own dinner. Yet there he is, right across from Narcissa. Sirius bites back a smile at the stern man’s dreary countenance. He wonders whether or not Lucius has noticed the objects missing from his trunk yet. He almost hopes that he has. It would certainly make the meal more interesting.
As Sirius approaches the Slytherin tables, Juliette seems to sense his presence. She swivels around in her seat. The ribbons holding her dark hair in place brush against her face at the sudden rotation. When their eyes meet, she smiles, all perfect white teeth. “Sirius!” She stands, stepping delicately over the bench to greet him. “Happy Birthday.”
She flings her arms around him affectionately. Sirius meets Andromeda’s eyes over Juliette’s shoulder. His favorite cousin flicks up her eyebrows suggestively, and Sirius squirms away from Juliette.
“Thanks.” He says, a polite smile stamped onto his face.
Juliette’s glossy lips pucker into a pout. Andy– bless her – saves him. She holds out both her hands and beckons for Sirius to take a seat.
“Sirius,” She chirps warmly. “We’ve got presents.”
This gets his attention.
“Presents?” Sirius glances about at the other faces around the table.
Sirius hadn’t expected to get anything. Juliette’s too young to be obligated to buy him a gift. After all, it’s not like Sirius bought her a gift for her birthday.
He’s exchanged perhaps three words with Rabastan in the entire time he’s been promised to Sirius’ favorite cousin. Truthfully, Sirius isn’t certain that Rabastan’s exchanged many more words with Andromeda herself. He’s a little confused as to why he’s here in the first place. So, it’s safe to assume, no presents there.
That just leaves Lucius and Narcissa.
Sirius had taken his own little birthday present from Lucius a few days ago. Merlin knows the prick wouldn’t have gotten Sirius anything on his own. And Sirius supposes that they might be one of those couples to give joint gifts. Why not? They do everything else together anyway.
When Sirius’ eyes land on Narcissa, she stiffens. She tries for a smile, but it doesn’t meet her eyes. Sirius frowns at her. She still hasn’t apologized. Sirius might not have forgiven her even if she had… but that’s not a good enough reason not to try! He hates her. She’s selfish. He still hates her, and he won’t even consider changing his mind about that until she apologizes. Even if…
Even if he may have been wrong about why he ended up in Gryffindor.
She’s family. Family isn’t meant to abandon each other. He’d never have done that to her! Never.
Her thin smile falls. Something in him deflates at that… or maybe it breaks. That would be more in character for him, wouldn’t it? Sometimes, he pictures his heart as a great, glass sculpture in his chest. Glass is more likely to crack than deflate, isn’t it?
“They’re from your parents.” She clarifies.
Sirius’ frown deepens. Right, of course.
Of course, his parents sent him something. They’re disappointed in him, but they don’t despise him. He’s their son. He’s been disappointing them since he learned to speak; they’ve never been shy about that, but they’ve always been kind to him on his birthday. Why should this be any different?
Sirius’ stomach turns at the sight of the parcels and pouches on the bench beside Narcissa. It’s something like guilt.
They aren’t bad parents- they aren’t bad at all. He’s just a subpar son. He hasn’t sent a single letter home since that night with James. It’s been almost a month. The rest of his roommates practically write home weekly. He’s the most subpar son.
Still, he thinks with a sour taste in his mouth of the revelation that had halted his letters. His parents may not be bad parents, but that doesn’t mean they’re good people.
They’re wrong about so much. Lupin’s mother is a muggle, but he’s the best at picking up spells in the whole tower. Evans has far higher marks than Peter– and Peter’s a pureblood. And the Potters: his parents hate the Potters. Sirius is meant to hate the Potters, but it’s bloody impossible to hate James… because James is good.
Sirius wants to be that good.
He wants to be good like James. Good like Andromeda.
He’s not sure what he is. He thought he might be able to be good too. He’d stopped using all the words James told him not to use, and he’d stuffed Andromeda’s muggle coat in his trunk. But now he’s staring at a pile of neatly wrapped packages from his family, and, to his surprise, his very bones and sinews ache with how much he misses them.
Sirius misses his mother and father. Even though he knows they’re wrong about… everything.
Andromeda lays her warm hand over Sirius’. He looks up, and she squeezes it gently. “You can open them after we’ve eaten,” She says. Her smile is so kind. Sirius wishes desperately that she were the only one here.
“Splendid.” He says. His voice sounds soupy and weak, even to his own ears. Thankfully, his present company is far too refined to comment on such a thing outright. Andy’s foot nudges his shin beneath the table. It helps.
Once the food appears, a strained silence falls over the table. Juliette clears her throat, then blushes profusely when the others turn to her.
“Excuse me.”
Rabastan, of all people, is the one to put an end to the misery.
“Sirius, Juliette,” He begins, his voice far raspier than his slim, prim appearance might have portended. “How are classes?”
It’s a banal question. But it’s something, and Sirius is so grateful for an end to the silence that he could kiss Rabastan plum on his tiny little mouth.
“They’re not bad, " he says. I haven’t had any trouble yet… besides potions.”
His eyes flick to Juliette. She smiles at him, but it’s different than her typical pearly white beam. This one is quiet. It’s secret, meant just for him. It’s a reminder that she knows about Sirius’ tendency to disrupt Potions with his friends. It’s a promise that she won’t tell.
“Potions is tricky, yeah.” She nods, turning back to Rabastan.
When it comes to girls he’s going to be made to marry whether he likes it or not, Sirius figures he could do a lot worse than Juliette.
Lucius drums his long, white fingers on the table and sniffs. “Yes, well, that’s what happens when you’ve got a mudblood for a partner."
He could be Narcissa, for example. The word sounds like a hex coming from Lucius’ mouth. Sirius wonders if that’s how he himself had sounded every time he said it.
Lucius’ jab has garnered genuine interest from some of the partygoers.
“Do you really?” Rabastan asks. “A mudblood?”
Cissa’s neatly manicured brows furrow. “I thought you and Juli were partners.”
“We are.” Sirius says stiffly.
Lucius frowns. “That’s not what I’ve heard.”
Sirius casts a pleading glance in Andromeda’s direction. She rolls her eyes.
“Spying on the firsties, are we, Lucius?” She sips her tea primly, but her eyes are hard as steel.
“I’m a prefect.” Lucius says smoothly. “It’s my job—”
“A Slytherin prefect, yes. But—”
“—to be aware of how the younger students are faring, Andromeda.”
“—Sirius is a Gryffindor, so the company he keeps is none of your concern. ”
“I beg to differ.”
“Then beg.” Andy snips, placing her teacup back onto its saucer with a sharp clink.
For a moment, it seems like Lucius might yell. He rears back in his chair, thin lips curled into a terrible scowl. But he collects himself just as quickly as he’d fallen apart and clears his throat.
“I’m merely concerned for Sirius' schooling.” Lucius says. “I’d say it’s warranted. He’s family, after all.”
The man’s slow, saccharine smile makes Sirius broil.
“I am not .” He spits, unable to hold in his venom.
Lucius seems surprised Sirius has deigned to speak at all. He doesn’t get upset the way he had when Andromeda questioned him. Instead, his stony eyes light up with amusement. It only serves to make Sirius all the more angry.
He tosses down his fork. “I’m Narcissa’s family.” Sirius says. “Not yours.”
“Sirius!” Narcissa hisses, chastising. She reaches for his hand, but Sirius yanks it away.
“You’re not married yet.” Sirius’ voice cracks, but he presses on. He meets Narcisa’s eyes, and the glass globe in his chest fractures once more. “He’s not family yet.”
He’s not family. Sirius thinks, pleadingly. He’s not family, and I am, and you chose him over me last time. Don’t choose him again. Choose me. Choose me, choose me, choose me. I’m family. I’m still family.
Narcissa turns away. After a moment she speaks in a soft, tired voice. “Forgive him, Lucius. He’s unhappy with me, and taking it out on you.”
Sirius crumples. He doesn’t know what he expected.
“Perhaps he’d be more comfortable if we left.” Lucius says.
Narcissa chews her lip as she contemplates. Then she nods without a word. As she starts to stand, Andy catches her by the elbow.
“Cissa,” She says, hushed and warning.
“He doesn’t want me here.” Narcissa pulls her arm free.
Sirius says nothing, though he feels sick to his stomach. When Narcissa turns back to him, her eyes are apologetic and weary.
“Happy birthday, Sirius.”
Lucius offers her his arm as they exit. She doesn’t take it.
***
As he crawls through the entrance to the Common Room, Sirius is thankful that he left dinner early. The whole tower seems empty. It’s completely silent save for the constant crackle of the fireplace. It’s a stark contrast to the cacophony in the Great Hall.
Dinner was terrible, obviously.
As he weighs his presents in his arms Sirius’ mind churns. He’s not sure he knows where he fits in his family anymore.
It used to be simple– maybe not easy, but simple.
Sirius is The Heir. He was meant to go to school and figure out how to be a good son. All he wanted when he came to Hogwarts was to make his family proud.
He’d still like to make them proud. Of course he would.
But his family would be proud to marry off Narcissa to someone like Lucius.
Sirius wants nothing to do with people like the Malfoys anymore… and he doesn’t know how to reconcile that. Maybe it can’t be reconciled. Maybe he can’t be a good person and a good son all at once.
Sirius teeters up the stairs, suddenly feeling far older than he supposes any twelve year old ought to feel, and looking forward to an early night’s rest after a truly terrible family affair. But no sooner than the moment he finally gets the door open without dropping a parcel, is he assaulted by a barrage of fondness. The presents fall to the floor as his arms instinctively come up around the back of one James Potter.
“Happy Birthday!” Sirius’ roommates chorus. The tower, it seems, was not as empty as he thought.
James is wrapped around Sirius, his embrace as tight as Devil’s Snare. Warmth blooms up from Sirius’ stomach. He tightens his grip on his friend. James pulls back and beams. “You old codger! We got you something.”
From over James’ shoulder, Peter smiles and waves, one hand behind his back.
“You did?” Sirius’ throat constricts unexpectedly. “But I didn’t tell you…”
“We improvised.” Remus says, perched on the edge of his bed. He looks awful. His skin is sallow and his undereyes are purpled– the exact shade of billywig wings. Sirius gets a little misty at his appearance. Lupin had been the hospital wing just a few hours ago… but here he is, smiling weakly at Sirius.
They’re all smiling at Sirius. He feels his hackles lower.
“Show him, Pete!”
Peter whips his hidden arm out from behind his back. In his palm sits a red velvet fairy cake with yellow icing. A single candle juts out proudly from the mound of sugar like an explorer’s flag.
“The colors were my idea,” James says, prouder than the candle. He hangs off Sirius’s shoulder, hazel eyes glittering as he looks up at him. Sirius’ skin tingles where James’ hands press.
He’s a very tactile person, James. Sirius has stopped being surprised at how much he likes it. He finds himself reaching for James almost as often as James reaches for him lately.
Mother and Father always discouraged that sort of behavior in public. They called it improper. But they’d most certainly call almost everything about James improper, if they were to meet the boy. It doesn’t change the fact that James is undoubtedly Sirius’ second favorite person in this entire school.
James is good. Unfailingly so. Sirius isn’t so sure about his mother and father. So if James says it’s alright to sling an arm around your friend, or to wrestle, or pinch or flick or hug, then it must not be too bad.
Sirius has adapted rather quickly to being allowed to touch. It feels good to be free to touch James.He leans into his touch.
“James nicked it from the kitchens.” Peter offers Sirius the treat. “I kept watch.”
Sirius Black is not delicate by nature– he is sharp, and brash, and everything his mother accuses him of– but he is delicate with this. He accepts the fairy cake gingerly. He holds it like something fragile.
Remus laughs, his voice is hoarse but happy. “He didn’t nick anything.” He says. “We just asked Nipsy to make it.”
James blows a raspberry. Sirius can’t even find it in himself to be irritated at Remus for spoiling the whimsy.
“Do you like it?” Peter asks.
Sirius nods, unable to speak.
“Wait, wait!” James clamps his hands over Sirius's eyes. “Now, Remus.”
“Incendio.”
When Sirius regains his sight, the candle has been lit. James pats him on the shoulder, nudging him towards it. Sirius blows it out, and he’s so distracted with trying to wrangle the swell of emotions in his chest that he almost forgets to make a wish.
***
After everyone else has fallen asleep, Sirius opens his presents alone by the light of his wand. He gets a pouch of galleons from Uncle Alphard, which he happily stows away in his bedside drawer. It won’t be much use to him at school, but he’s glad for it nevertheless. He gets a remembrall from Uncle Cygnus. He scoffs at that. It’s about what he was expecting from the uncle he rarely ever speaks to– a shiny trinket that he has no desire to play with. Andromeda’s parcel is wrapped in muggle newspaper. His heart hammers in his chest when he holds it. Sirius Black may not be delicate by nature, but for the second time today, he’s delicate without effort.
He’s careful as he unsticks the wrapping paper, and when he’s done, he folds the newspaper and places it beside the pouch of gold in his drawer. She’s given him a book. Charlie and the Chocolate Factory. He shoves it under his pillow, moving slowly so as not to disturb James, who’d passed out on Sirius’ bed hours ago. The last three gifts are from Narcissa and his parents.
Perhaps he should have just eaten the frog and opened them first.
He nudges the top off the box from his mother. From inside, a small, silver object glints in the moonlight. Sirius reaches in and pulls out an ornate pocket watch by its thin, glittering chain. The lid of the watch is etched with three constellations. Gemini, Cygnus, and new, freshly engraved, Canis Major. Pollux’s pocketwatch. Sirius runs his thumb over his constellation. It emits a cool glow, and the light slowly seeps over his grandfather’s and great-grandfather’s in turn. It feels like his mother’s cold lips on his feverish forehead as a child. He bites his lip until he tastes copper, and drops the watch back into the box.
Sirius smushes the lid back onto the box as if it can keep the sudden surge of homesickness at bay.
The package from his father is rectangular, and much more lightweight than anything else he’s received all night. Sirius has a feeling he knows what it is. His stomach flutters.
As he tears open the black parchment paper concealing the gift, he can feel his heartbeat stuttering in his fingertips. The shreds fall away to reveal a single, ink-dark quill. The feather is large and ostentatious, the size of Sirius’ forearm, and he recognizes it instantly as his father’s quill— the very one he uses to take noes and write letters and laws in the Winzemagot.
Family heirlooms. Both gifts from his parents had been family heirlooms. Black family treasures. He twists his ring, bidding his pulse to slow.
His parents haven’t given up on him.
It makes him feel downright rotten for thinking about giving up on them.
As Sirius settles into bed next to James, he turns on his side and traces his friend’s sleeping face with his gaze.
James never gave up on Sirius either. Not for a moment. Even when Sirius was horrible to him for weeks.
Sirius doesn’t want to have to give up on either of them. He wants his friends and his family.
He shifts, turning towards his bedside table that holds all his presents. The unopened letter from Narcissa stares him in the face.
He won’t.
He won’t give up on anyone. He’ll be both. He’ll make them both proud. He’ll be a good person and a good son. It can’t be impossible; just look at Andromeda.