To Ashes

It was Regulus’s birthday, and Sirius was celebrating by fighting with James. Nothing had really started it, just a passing comment from James that Sirius jumped on, seizing and twisting until it was a full blown argument. It went on and on, neither of them really knowing or caring what they were actually fighting about.

“Fine!” James finally threw his hands in the air and turned his back. “Make yourself sick with misery, see if I care.” The slam of the door punctuated his departing words, and Sirius was left standing alone in the middle of the room, suddenly feeling very small. Small and horrible, for James was only upset because he was upset.

The fervour drained from him for a moment, just long enough for him to slip downstairs and out of the castle, unseen and unwanted. 

It had been building all week, a small seed of anger that felt like it had burrowed into him, rooting down and forcing itself up and out. He drifted to and from class, going through the motions of meals and homework, all the while feeling like he was being seared from the inside out, screaming out at the world with a mouth of broken teeth,

Every year for these few days Sirius became a caged animal, something that had been neglected and cast off and was ready to sink its fangs into whoever strayed too close. What he wanted to say was, I miss my brother, we’re not okay and I can’t fix it, I’m hurting and I need it to be seen. But the problem was that it wasn’t just his brother. It was the memory of his mother’s nails digging into the flesh of his shoulder, bony fingers pressing down hard enough to bruise. 

Sirius wanted to scream that all his life he’d been waiting for his family’s hold to break, that it wasn’t until he’d met James’s parents that Sirius had realised family could mean joy.

He wanted to say all of these things, let them out one by one until the burden lifted from his shoulders. Each time he tried the words bunched up in the back of his throat, and no matter how much he heaved and strained and coughed he couldn’t spit them out. So he snapped at whoever came too close, fangs bared, hackles raised.

In the end it was Lily who came to find him, plopping down next to him without an invitation on the bank of the lake.  First, a pang of worry she’d walked alone through the castle. Second, a pang of guilt for drawing her out here with him. Sirius sighed to himself. Just another drop in the ocean of self-loathing he wanted to drown himself in.

“I come here to be alone, you know.” The fact that he sounded like a petulant toddler made him feel even worse, but he no longer had the energy for anything stronger.

“I can see why,” she said amiably, “it’s a lovely spot.” Her chin was propped on her hand as she watched him, idly picking at the grass with the other.

“Save it for James.” He muttered.

She raised an unimpressed brow. “Save what?”

“The way you turn your big sad eyes on someone and they spill their guts.”

She snorted. “Pardon me?”

Sirius managed a wry smile, balancing his chin on his knees as he finally turned his head to her. “He is putty in your hands, Ginger.” He watched her process that bit of information and shove it to the side until later. Her lips twitched upwards.

“I’ll just sit here and look out at the lake, if that’s alright.”

He grunted. “If you must.”

Eventually she opened her mouth to speak, as he knew she would.“You know -”

“Merlin’s bloody pants, Lily. I don’t want to hear it.” Guilt swelled behind his angry tongue, but he couldn’t help himself.

“You know,” she continued as if he hadn’t spoken, “every year on Petunia’s birthday, I send her a card.”

Something twisted in Sirius’s gut. He felt everything all at once, hollow, overflowing, burning up, suffocating, drowning under the weight of it all. It was all too much, it was eating him from the inside out. 

“She never responds. I don’t even think she opens them. Can’t even remember the last time she wished me a happy birthday.” 

He couldn’t breathe. Lily gripped his hand and forced him to look her in the eyes.

“Sometimes people disappoint us. Who I want Tuney to be doesn’t matter, because it’s not who she is.”

He was shaking his head, starting to say that he was the one who was the disappointment, but she didn’t let him.

“We deserve to be loved, Sirius. It’s not your fault that your family doesn’t know how to love you.” There was something in her eyes, steeled and sharp, and he suddenly wanted nothing more than for it to slice him open. For a split second Sirius could see why James loved her so much.

“They-” his voice failed, he cleared his throat and tried again. “They just don’t care to try.”

Eleven-year old Sirius sitting at the breakfast table, a red envelope pinched gingerly between his forefinger and thumb, stomach leaden. The other students were starting to notice, and he caught the flashes of sympathy, and worse, the leering from those who wanted nothing more than a show to accompany their morning meal. 

He looked up to see James looking down at the letter like it would explode at any moment. Which, Sirius supposed, it would. 

“I suppose it’ll be bad?” Peter ventured. James shoved him.

“D’you think?” Remus muttered sarcastically under his breath. Sirius almost cracked a smile.

“Suppose I should just get it over with.” Sirius murmured, thumb tracing the lip of the envelope. He glanced up again, looking for anything that might prolong the moment even just a second more. He and Remus locked eyes. Something in Remus’s eyes hardened, just the tiniest bit, but not before Sirius could see his worry. Worry for him. Remus gave a small nod, barely more than a jerk of his chin. Get on with it, he was saying, we’ll be here.

Sirius took a breath, and ripped the envelope open.

“Unfit.”Kreacher mumbled, barely more than a shadow as he shuffled down the dark hall behind Sirius. “Unworthy and unfit to grace my mistress’s house.”

“Bugger off.” Sirius growled, resisting the urge to send a well-aimed kick in the elf’s direction.

“My poor mistress,” Kreacher continued disdainfully, louder now, “how he shames her. Not fit to be the heir of the House of Black.”

“Kreacher.” Sirius snapped, whirling around. But there was nothing there, only the echo of a fading snigger.

The arc of his father’s hand as it screeched towards his face.

“If you could just stay quiet,” Regulus started, voice wavering, “if you didn’t taunt her, she would let you be.”

“Taunt her.” Sirius repeated, voice dark. “Defending myself is not taunting her.”

Regulus shook his head. “But that’s how she sees it. Please, Si, I can’t watch her hurt you.”

Sirius looked at him for a long moment, noting the slight tremble of his hands. “Has she turned on you, since I started school?” She wouldn’t, he thought desperately, not her golden child. Not her sole remaining hope for the family legacy.

Regulus swallowed, hard.

“Reg?” Sirius gripped his brother by the arms, panic rising when his brother flinched away from his touch.

“No.” Regulus said quickly. “I do what she wants. She lets me be.”

Sirius released Regulus’s arms, exhaling slowly. Of course she hadn’t. It was Sirius she hated.

“So please,” Regulus begged, “just keep your head down, it won’t be that bad.”

Sirius was silent for a long moment, looking into his brother’s eyes and searching for the boy he remembered.

“Sorry.” He said finally. “I can’t.” 

Regulus’s face went carefully blank, spine straightening as the line in the sand solidified.

“Very well,” his voice was formal, crisp, “but you’ll have to excuse me if I no longer take any part of it.” 

Before Sirius could open his mouth, Regulus turned on his heel and walked away.

Sirius, crumpled in front of the hearth, bruised like an apple, wounds weeping. His mother, looming over him, eyes black and empty, one hand holding the knife dripping her son’s blood onto the heirloom rug. Regulus, frozen in the corner, struggling to keep his face blank, trembling in horror.

“What a mistake.” Walburga hissed. “To think you came from my womb, my body, made of my blood. What an abomination you are.”

Sirius barked a harsh laugh and spat out a clot of blood. He stifled a pained groan as he shifted to look her in the face, cracked ribs screaming, split skin straining. Regulus was shaking his head frantically at him, begging him silently not to make it worse. Sirius ignored him, smiling up at her with a mouth full of blood. He hoped it was a sickening sight.

“I learned at your feet.” He rasped. “I am what you made me, Mother dearest.” He chuckled again, already bracing as the knife rushed toward him once again.

Sirius, on the Potter’s doorstep in the middle of a downpour. Everything was a blur, cold water drenching every bit of him, limbs heavy and numb. The only thing Sirius felt clearly was the dull ache of his broken wrist, and the blood drying stiff on his clothing.

A slice of light filled his vision as the door opened. He raised his good hand, squinting against not only the brightness, but the devastated cry of James’s mother. Suddenly there were hands on him, hands pulling at his clothes, hands prodding for the injuries hidden underneath his clothes, hands cradling his crumpled wrist.

He was vaguely aware of being rushed inside. Someone charmed him dry, water and the splotches of dark blood misting right off of him. Someone else waved a wand over his wrist and Sirius winced as his bones righted themselves. A warm drink was pressed into his hand.

They left him and James in the kitchen as the adults shut themselves away. A few people arrived by Floo. There was a lot of whispering, an outraged cry or two. Sirius sipped his drink and let James try to cheer him up.

“Your room is still how you left it.” James’s voice was extra cheery, like he was forcing brightness into it. “I have some new records we can listen to tomorrow.”

Sirius just nodded and let him fuss. 

The adults put them to bed, but Sirius drifted into James’s room, sliding silently into the huge bed beside him. They lay together quietly, each boy thinking so loudly he was surprised the other couldn’t hear.

“Will they send me back?” Sirius whispered, voice harsh against the broken silence.

“Over my mum’s dead body.” James shook his head. “She’d claw your mother’s eyes out if she showed up here.” 

Something lit up in Sirius’s chest, a small spark of hope. But his next thought snuffed it out.

“I won’t be able to save Reg.” His throat constricted. “They can stand to lose me. They won’t ever let him go now.”

James had nothing to say to that.

Lily’s eyes were at once hard and angry, drilling the depth of her words into him. “Then it’s their loss.” She enunciated clearly, like she was worried he’d miss her meaning. “We want you, we love you.” 

Sirius could hear the promise she was making to him right then, but it was too big a thing to talk about. He didn’t have the right words, so he just jerked his head in the semblance of a nod, and that was good enough for Lily. His eyes were wet but she didn’t mention it, just held his hand and breathed with him for a while.

They went back to the tower together in silence. When they got back Sirius threw an arm around Peter’s shoulder and challenged him to a game of exploding snap. He was welcomed back into the fold, because they knew he was sorry. 

They stayed up late, drinking well into the night. They played round after round of cards, betting with whatever bits and bobs they had in their pockets. James won a sugar quill off of Mary just to lose it to Remus the next round. Sirius taught Marlene how to waltz, or at least tried to. 

And after the others had fallen asleep he snuck into Remus’s bed, sliding against him like they were made to fit together. Sirius mumbled his apologies against his skin, whatever had been burning inside of him was doused as Remus’s head grew heavy with sleep on his chest.