Lock and Key
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As a child he was taught, that whatever was under lock, shouldn't be opened. Sirius locked his heart and hid the key so well, that for almost a whole decade no one could open it.
At home, they had several punishments, one of the ones he hated the most was to lock him in the dark under the cupboard of the house; for hours he heard nothing but creepy noises, being able to feel the spiders climbing up his clothes, the disgusting humidity, or the unbearable heat. They always left it under lock and key hanging in front of the grate, so Sirius could see it but not reach it. It was a psychological game.
He grew up, met real friends, not those classist kids who wanted something from him in return, and gave them the rusty key that no one had ever seen. They appreciated it and accepted it.
Sirius just wanted to be happy. At Hogwarts the days passed him by like hours, always busy studying, planning the next prank of the century, playing Quidditch, making puns and having fun, however, unlike the rest of the students; he felt no pleasure whatsoever when the vacations came around. At home, he tried not to cause noise, although his plans never worked out, and he ended up making a fuss. The cupboard, at thirteen, was too small for him and resorting to the physical seemed more practical.
Sometimes the pain reached unbearable levels, and, after long sessions, he would collapse on the floor in agony.
It was at sixteen that his destiny changed, because he began to discover in himself feelings, he never thought he would harbor, a part of him that he was unaware of and at the same time fascinated him. The only problem was that, once he knew he had those emotions, he realized he no longer wanted to hide them.
That was the last year he spent his vacations with his family.
The facts are unpleasant, and James never asked Sirius what it was that made him show up in the middle of the night, in front of his front door; with his hair wet from sweat, sticking to his face looking the worst he ever did, James saw in Sirius: bruised, bloodied, to the point that he was missing a tooth.
James watched him for a minute at the front of the portal, nodded and hugged him. Sirius broke down and began to cry in relief.
He had always felt that the Potters had been excessively kind to him. Euphemia had even gone to the trouble of putting his missing tooth back in, bought a bunk bed for James and Sirius to settle into, and provided Black with every comfort as if he were their son, because that was how the Potters felt about him: He was family, their unconceived son, and to James, Sirius was HIS brother, HIS best friend.
At twenty, Black returned to his parents' house, when it was no longer inhabited by anyone. He saw the key hanging in front of the cupboard and for the first time opened the lock, with some light coming from his wand, to identify what they kept there.
He smiled as he read how all the walls of the small space repeated the same message, which had been written by magic.
“BLOOD TRAITOR. FILTHY IMPURE.”
Such it seemed that always, at some point, closed doors had to be opened to be closed again.
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