I. Blacks Don't Know Love (AU)
Sirius Black never thought that he could love.
The most Ancient and Noble House of Black could never love. It wasn't in their blood, as pure as it may be, and perhaps, that was the tragedy of his House.
That the line between love and obsession, between love and hate, is so blurred as it was swept away in their childhood through Crucios and curses.
Blacks could never fully love.
Sirius did resent it, tried to disguise that natural failing of his through cheer and pranks to no avail. There is nothing that his heart can hold, though the Marauders come close, James, even closer.
Blacks only love themselves and their heart.
"Don't give your heart away," Uncle Acturus, saner than most of their family, would whisper at him when his Lordly parents weren't looking. Sirius used to wonder if that was because Uncle Acturus never gave it away that he was left untouched by the edge, the taint that other Blacks held in their soul, like a wound that was torn open again and again. "Because once you set your heart on something, it will be the only thing you will ever love."
And history knows how Blacks who love live.
They live in tragedies and grief, pain that kisses their brow, and Death that comes to embrace their memories.
Maybe, if Sirius hadn't been born Heir, he could have loved. He could have been normal and not felt like there was a void in his chest as he watches people love and love like it was something to be freely given.
How could James love so freely? Wasn't he afraid to one day, run out of love to give?
Sirius, however, would never know of that answer.
Because, Blacks don't love.
At least, he thought so.
Till a baby, delicate and warm, is gently put into his arms. Sirius looks down and meets his daughter's eyes, perfect pearls, grey like his own eyes, and her toothless smile, and he falls in love for the first time.
"She's beautiful," his wife whispers from her birthing bed, sweat still dripping off her brow like crystals. She is small and frail, his little wife, but the heart she holds is big enough for the two of them. If Sirius had cared, maybe he would have felt a smidge of affection, of concern for her. A little empathy for that stranger that came with blood as red as anyone else yet more prized, a stranger that loved as if she was always using her last breath.
But he can only muster pity.
She knew of her fate, to marry a Black from the Main Line would mean a cold marriage and a colder lord husband, but his little wife does not care. She cares for the honor that courses through her blood and for that little star that bloomed inside her womb.
"She is." And if Sirius sounds a little strangled, voice that hitches and tender in a way he had never been in his eighteen years plaguing this Earth, well it is his business alone. He clears his throat as he raises an almost trembling finger to his daughter's cheek, just to touch her, just to feel her and remember that she is real and he loves her already. His little daughter, star of his life, grips at his index and doesn't let go. Like she is pleading not to leave her, never to leave her.
And he won't, Sirius thinks with only love in his mind and his Uncle's warning, a quiet voice that he ignores.
"Elara," he names her for the stars that his family hail their names from, for the sky that Sirius has stolen his precious daughter from because she is starlight and gold, a drop of light in a heart that cannot love. "Elara Vespera Black. My star. My Heart."
Elara sniffles. Sirius gently holds her, hand cradling her too small head that is feathered with ebony and she subsides, melting into his frame. The estranged Black heir sears his beloved daughter's face in his memory, every little wrinkle and pink skin that comes from the birthing bed, the smile that curves her little mouth that came from her lady mother because Sirius had never been able to smile so gently, without having malice hide behind his fangs.
"I will never leave you, my little Heart. I will always love you"
His whisper is a promise he writes in his heart, a pledge he keeps close in his mind.
It is a shame that Blacks always end up confusing their love for their obsession.
Didn't I tell you before?
Blacks who love are kissed by grief.
(And tragedies never do have their happy ending)
First Year in Azkaban
Harry
little Prongslet
I'm
sorry
Little Heart
Forgive me
I wanted to keep my promise.
I swear.
I love you -
my perfect Elara
Third Year in Azkaban
My little Heart My little Heart My little Heart My little Heart My little Heart My little Heart My little Heart My little Heart My little Heart My little Heart My little Heart My little Heart My little Heart mine mine mine mine mine
I miss you so much
Forgive me James, I left them behind
But I swear, I love them
ELARA
I lov-
Fifth Year in Azkaban
I'm
sorry
little Heart
I lo- you so much
I never got to see your first smile
I miss you-
Tenth Year in Azkaban
my little hea-
my Ela-
I l-
I think I love you
I swear, I do
But I can't remember your face, little Star.
Did you know why Blacks never fared well in Azkaban?
Dementors feed on joy.
But Blacks only have one thing to feed on.
Their Heart.
Till there's nothing left.
The first thing that Sirius can think of, soaking wet from his escape, and with a cold that never leaves settling in his soul, is Harry.
Harry, his beloved little godson.
(he thinks there is someone else too)
(there was someone)
Sirius has to save him from Pettigrew, has to save his Prongslet and avenge his brother - James and Lily Flower because they were all he had - all he ever had and they are gone.
Sirius has to save him.
He promised James to protect their Prongslet.
(But he promised something else, too, didn't he?
Once upon a time)
Mustn't have been that urgent, that important to forget.
At least, Sirius thinks so. He is unsure, unsteady like the waves that crashes on the beach in which he managed to reach in his dog's form.
There's only one thought in his head.
Harry HarryHarryHarryHarryHarryHarryHarryHarryHarryHarryHarry Ela HarryHarryHarryHarryHarryHarryHarryHarryHarryHarryHarryElaHarryHarryHarryHarry