Chapter Text
He woke up in the dark, aching all over. Why did everything ache? He couldn’t remember. The boy took a deep breath, sinuses filling with the scent of old paper— slightly sweet, slightly dusty, but familiar and comforting. As he lay on the floor — why was he on the floor? — he slowly opened his eyes, taking in his surroundings. To his left, the ebony leg of a chair. He turned his head, neck muscles sore. Dark wood, almost black… and books. The papery smell in the air was identified. He was in the library— or, on the floor of the library. He pushed himself up into a sitting position, every bone in his body throbbing and screaming in protest, but at least now he could see. He leaned against a bookcase, panting; the effort of simply pulling himself up had left him exhausted. Why am I on the library floor?
Suddenly, last night’s events came flooding back to him, as if he had stuck his head in a Pensieve: his wretched mother shoving a book into his hands, a book about “The Noble House of Black”, but he just did not want to read it; he had no desire to hear any more about his awful lineage. He knew enough about his cousins, Narcissa, that awful, awful Bellatrix, his terrible mother, and the rest of them, he did not yearn to learn more. But Mother did not want to hear that: “You are the next heir of the Black family, Sirius! I demand you take your role seriously and read about your history!” Sirius had refused, over and over; Reggie was there, too, tears rolling down his pale face, begging Sirius to just “take it, just take it!” but Sirius did not want to, oh no, and Mother was pulling out her wand, and a red light was filling his eyes, and pain was filling his body, the pain of a thousand knives, a thousand spells, was she killing him?
But no, here he was, alive. He pinched his arm to make sure. He felt his eyes welling up with tears and quickly looked up at the ceiling to make them stop. “Blacks do not cry” , his mother had told him many times, “It is unbecoming. Now wipe your eyes and stop acting like a child.” ‘But I am a child!’ He wanted to shout. He could hear Mother’s voice, piercing and unforgiving. “ In the House of Black, you must uphold a certain standard.” In the House of Black this, in the House of Black that. Sometimes he wished he had a different last name and a different family tree that consisted of people who did not believe childhood rule breaking was punishable by curse. Although, every parent probably cursed their children to discipline them. Mother used spells on him all the time, like the Lacero curse, which left ribbon thin cuts on his skin (Mother liked to use it on his ankles so it hurt to walk). He supposed it was normal, but he did not know for sure. Mother only allowed him to spend time with Reggie and his cousins. No outside friends, they were bad influences, and plus, non-purebloods were becoming more and more common nowadays. As if Mother would allow him to spend time with one of those. As if he would want to!
A soft pattering of footsteps interrupted his daydreams. His pulse relaxed; those footsteps were Reggie’s.
“Sirius? Are you alright?” Regulus’ voice floated out from between the bookshelves.
“Yes, thank you,” Sirius replied, happy his voice was not wavering. He had to stay strong for Reggie, although he was not usually subjected to Mother’s punishments simply because he was good. Sirius bet Mother would rather Reggie be the heir than him. Nevertheless, Sirius felt it was his duty to protect Reggie from anything in the world.
“Did it hurt?” Reggie asked in a small voice. Sirius reached out to pull his brother next to him on the floor, hugging him tight and burying his head in his brother’s jet-black curls.
“Just a bit,” Sirius lied. “Like the prick of a needle.” If a needle had millions of points that were burning hot and twisting into every inch of his being. He pulled back from Reggie and looked him in the eye, cracking a smile he hoped looked real. “But listen, Reggie — I know I go against Mother a lot. More than I should, anyway. But you shouldn’t go against her.”
“But you do!” Reggie said, his voice rising. Sirius hushed him.
“I know, I know. But next year when I’m at Hogwarts, you’re going to be home alone with Mother and Father. Just… try not to go against them too much. I don’t want Mother to start punishing you now that I’m going to be gone.” Reggie pondered for a second and nodded his head, blue eyes widening as he looked up at his big brother.
“Are you excited to go?” Reggie asked him for what felt like the thousandth time that week. Sirius sighed, but he wasn’t upset. He loved talking with Reggie.
“Yes, but let’s move to the couch. This floor is hurting my back,” Sirius stood up and grabbed Reggie’s hand to pull him up as well. They walked to a sleek black couch in a crevice between two bookshelves and sat down, Sirius dangling his legs over the side and daintily crossing his ankles, Reggie crossing his legs and leaning forward.
“You’re gonna be in Slytherin, right Sirius?” Reggie talked excitedly.
“Going to, not ‘gonna’,” Sirius corrected him gently. Mother was a stickler from proper grammar and pronunciation — “You are a Black, speak like it!” — and Sirius worried that Mother would punish Reggie for it next year when Sirius wasn’t there to step in and anger her more to get her attention away from Regulus. “And yes, I will most likely be in Slytherin. I mean, I can’t choose, that’s the hat’s job. But all the Blacks usually are—”
“Like Cissy and Bella?”
“Yes, like Cissy and Bella.” Sirius sighed. His two teenage cousins were true Blacks— haughty, beautiful, and with the belief that they were better than everyone else. He much preferred Andromeda, their sister, who was disinherited for marrying a Muggle. She had a wicked sense of humor and great music taste. Even though Andromeda was not in contact with her family, she sent Sirius a new record or two every Christmas. She was definitely his favorite cousin.
“What if you’re not in Slytherin? What if you’re in Gryffindor? ” Reggie whispered like Gryffindor was some sort of nasty word. Which, in the Black house, it was. Gryffindors were the known rivals of the Slytherin house, and therefore, the rivals of the Blacks. Ravenclaws were fine, so were Hufflepuffs, but Gryffindors… He did not want to think about what would happen if he were sorted into that house. Even Andromeda was a Slytherin.
“Well,” Sirius paused, unsure how to respond. “I’ll still be a Black. I’ll still be your brother. A person’s house doesn’t matter that much…” Regulus considered this for a second and shrugged.
“Your house is who you are inside. I think that matters,” Reggie said matter-of-factly. Sirius leaned over and gave his brother a hug.
“Well, each house displays different traits, all of which are admirable. So if I’m not in Slytherin… So be it.” A small part of Sirius’ insides twisted — he was sure his parents would not feel the same.
* * *
“Sirius, did you not wash your face as I asked?” Mother snapped. She licked her finger and rubbed it on a dirty spot on his face. He hated when she did that; he flinched away, but she grabbed his arm and held fast, sharp nails digging into his skin, and through his robes. “And straighten your tie! You know this is a very important dinner for your father.” Mother stood up, surveying him with her sharp eyes until she determined he was fit to be seen in public. Or, rather, their dining room. Sirius sighed. “What was that?”
“Nothing,” Sirius muttered. Mother grabbed his chin and forced him to look at her eye to eye.
“Nothing, Mother ,” she spat, releasing his chin, “And speak up. There is no need to mutter; you are a perfectly well-educated boy.” She brushed off her pristine black robes and turned on her heel, probably going to find someone else to yell at. Sirius hated his parents’ fancy dinners. He was forced into stiff dress robes, forced to converse with his parents’ friends ( “but only speak when spoken to, and speak eloquently like the Black you are”) , forced to sit at the long ebony table in a chair that was twice his height sitting down (it always hurt his back, but if he shifted even the slightest, he earned a sharp prod under the table from Mother). At least there was always good food, but he couldn’t even enjoy that — he wasn’t able to eat as much as he liked, or else his parents’ friends would think he was “a great dirty pig”, and God Forbid that happened. Reggie was able to sneak off occasionally, being the youngest, but Sirius, as the next heir, was stuck at that table for hours and hours.
“Yes, Mother,” Sirius said in a flat, clear voice. He stalked off for some quiet away from Mother before the guests arrived. His head was buzzing with anger, and he found himself walking with no destination. Only a minute later, he heard Mother’s voice echoing through the entire house:
“Sirius! Regulus! Our guests have arrived. Please come to the front hall quickly to welcome them.” Sirius rolled his eyes and turned around, walking as slowly as he possibly could. “Sirius Orion Black, I said quickly !” Sirius picked up his pace and braced himself for a long, long evening.
* * *
“Walburga, do you have any more of that elf-made wine! Simply fabulous!” One of the dinner guests, a stout wizard with pink cheeks that only got pinker as he drank more wine, exclaimed loudly. They had been sitting at the table for hours, and this wizard, whoever he was, had drunk close to his body weight in wine, Sirius reckoned. Walburga pursed her lips and smiled thinly. Sirius stifled a laugh; he knew how much Mother hated drunk people, but she had to please their guests.
“Why, of course,” Mother said in a voice that would sound sweet to anyone else, but Sirius knew better. “Kreacher!” With a crack , Kreacher, one of the Blacks’ house-elves, appeared in the dining room. He was a small creature with wrinkled skin and large ears, and his sole mission in life was to serve the family’s every need.
“Yes, Mistress?” Kreacher bent into a deep bow. As a house-elf, it was his duty to respect the entire family, but he had a special fondness for Mother. For what reason, Sirius did not know— she was as horrendous to Kreacher as she was to him.
“Fetch me another bottle of the elf-made wine from the cellar,” Mother said sharply. Kreacher nodded.
“As you wish, Mistress.” With another crack , Kreacher disappeared and reappeared a second later with a glass bottle of deep red liquid. Sirius had tasted wine before, a sip from Father’s cup here and there, but did not understand what all the fuss was about. It was bitter, and the smallest amount made his head spin. Kreacher poured the wine into the man’s glass and set the bottle on the table.
“Is there anything else you desire, Mistress?” Kreacher asked.
“Yes. Have you seen Regulus? He seems to have disappeared from the table.” A couple of the adults chuckled lightly.
“Yes, Mistress, he was with me in the library. We are reading a book of your noble lineage.” If there was one person Kreacher adored more than Mother, it was Regulus. Reggie had developed a little friendship with the house-elf over his ten years of life, which Sirius thought was quite silly. But if it made Reggie happy, who was Sirius to complain?
“Well, I am glad one of my sons is interested in his heritage,” Walburga said stiffly, shooting a glare at Sirius. “Sirius will be attending Hogwarts in the fall, and I insisted he educate himself about his bloodline before he leaves,” she said, addressing everyone at the table. “However, he decided his ancestors are not interesting enough.” A few witches tittered. “But do not worry, dear Sirius will sit down with his father for a talk before he leaves.” A couple of wizards on one side of the table that Sirius figured were Blacks nodded pompously. Sure, Sirius thought, I’ll have that talk when you respect half-bloods: never. Sirius was truly tired of hearing ‘Noble House of Black this, Noble House of Black that’. The Black relatives he had met were downright horrendous, save for Andromeda, and he had no desire to learn about the others.
“Hogwarts this fall already, Sirius?” A tall dark-haired wizard boomed, snapping him out of his reverie. “Why, I feel it was only yesterday that you were born! Your parents were so happy to have an eldest son, an heir.” And that happiness didn’t last long.
“Yes, time does seem to pass rather quickly,” Father smiled. Sirius liked Father a great deal more than Mother, but that was relative, of course. While it was Mother who usually doled out punishments, Father went along with whatever she said and never stopped her, so Sirius was wary of him as well.
“Have you bought him a wand yet, Orion?” a witch with curly hair and emerald robes asked. Father shook his head.
“We are planning to visit Diagon Alley next week to purchase his needed supplies. There are a lot of them.”
“Well, nothing you can’t afford, right?” This emitted chuckles and giggles from around the table. The Blacks were not only well respected, but they were filthy rich. Everyone in the room was, but the Blacks were in a league of their own. “Going to have another Slytherin in the family, I presume?” Sirius felt a funny twist in his insides.
“Well, it is up to the hat, but yes, if we have raised him right, we will,” Orion said, clapping a hand on Sirius’ shoulder. Sirius winced. An old wizard across the table took notice.
“Wipe that look off your face, boy! You should be appreciative of your family and your house.”
“It’s not my house. I haven’t even been sorted yet,” Sirius muttered under his breath. Suddenly, the table grew quiet. Voices died down; silverware stopped clanking against china. You could have heard a pin drop. Sirius felt everyone’s eyes on him, and a blush rose to his cheeks.
“What did you say?” Mother said. Sirius had expected her to snap, but instead, she spoke in a slow voice infused with venom. This was almost worse; he would have to endure her full anger later. Sirius took a deep breath.
“I said, Slytherin isn’t my house. I haven’t been sorted yet,” Sirius repeated, louder this time. The old wizard tutted.
“You’re a Black, son. You’re a Slytherin by nature.” Everyone around the table nodded in agreement. Sirius willed his hands to stop shaking and picked up his goblet, taking a long sip of water (but not too long, Mother said that made him look desperate).
“What if I’m not?” Sirius said defiantly. He was not sure what made him say it. Maybe it was the sneer on the old wizard’s face. Maybe it was the fact he knew he had a punishment in his near future anyway. Or maybe he just wanted to have one independent thought and not have to be locked into the Noble House of Black. Sirius saw Father looking around the table, panic flitting across his chiseled face. There was only one thing Orion Black hated more than going against his wife, and that was disgrace against the Noble House of Black. Perhaps that is why he spoke up through the silence:
“This conversation is irrelevant. Sirius will be sorted in a few weeks, and we shall see if he belongs in Slytherin.” Sirius could not have heard the message more clearly: We shall see if he belongs in the Noble House of Black . Which, as the days went on, he wasn’t sure if he did.
* * *
The rest of the evening passed without incident, and as the hours drew on, Sirius grew more and more nervous for the fate that awaited him. Finally, the last guest had gone, and the house-elves had begun to clean up, Mother shut the door with a resounding boom . Sirius decided to just go to bed, maybe she’d forget…
“Sirius Orion Black, come back here this instant!” He heard Mother’s voice from behind him. Dread coursing through his veins, he slowly turned back around and steeled himself. She was standing with her hands on her hips, a stormy look on her face, eyes flashing with malice. She drew her wand from her pocket, pointing it at him, and Sirius flinched. “Do you care to explain what happened at dinner tonight?” Sirius didn’t answer for a few seconds. He stared mutely at her, his mouth dry, hands shaking. She took a step toward him. “I said, do you care to explain what happened at dinner tonight? Your little spectacle in front of our guests?” Sirius gulped, trying to figure out what he could say to repair the situation. He knew he wasn’t escaping without a punishment, but maybe she would just lock him in his room rather than curse him… “Shall I refresh your memory?” She boomed, red sparks flying out of the end of her wand. “You not only disrespected our guests, you disrespected your father, and your family! It is entirely unacceptable! You are far too old to be acting out like this!” Her voice grew increasingly louder, but Sirius still heard the soft footsteps of his younger brother. His heart sank like a stone as Regulus came into view.
“Sirius, are you okay?” Reggie asked in a small voice, looking between Sirius’ scared expression and Mother’s furious one.
“Regulus, leave,” Mother said sharply, not breaking her glare from Sirius’ face.
“But—” Reggie did not have time to finish his sentence before Mother flicked her wand and he was slammed into the wall and was tossed to the side of the room like a rag doll. Sirius gasped as a trickle of blood ran down Reggie’s forehead. Any nerves he had a minute ago transformed into white-hot anger; Mother could push him around all she wanted, but he could not bear when she touched his baby brother.
“Why did you do that?” he yelled, pointing at Reggie, “He didn’t do anything.” Mother waved her hand airily.
“He is just stunned. Kreacher!” Kreacher appeared with a crack, gasping loudly at the sight of Regulus’ small body slumped on the floor. He burst into tears, lying beside Regulus.
“Oh, Master Regulus, oh, wake up! Wake up! Mistress, Mistress, fix him!” Kreacher sobbed. Mother kicked the house-elf, something even Sirius, who wasn’t too fond of the thing, thought was unnecessarily cruel.
“He’s not dead, you foul creature. Take him up to his room and heal his forehead.” Kreacher let out another sob before grabbing Regulus and disappearing with him. Mother turned her attention back to Sirius.
“I will give you one last chance to apologize. We can sit down together, learn about your ancestors, and educate you before you leave.” Mother said in a deadly voice. Sirius knew he should accept her offer, knew he should avoid punishment and just make her happy; it would be better for everyone in the long run. But part of his brain was sick and tired and did not want to put up with her any longer, especially with what she had just done to Reggie. His heart pounded as the words burst from his lips:
“I do not want to learn about my foul ancestors; stop trying to force me!” Sirius exploded, throwing his hands into the air. He probably looked like he was in a right state- he knew his face got red when he yelled, and he was panting from the effort of going against Mother, but he did not care; at this moment, all that mattered was holding his ground. Looking away felt like letting her win, and he wanted to remain resolute. This was hard, as Mother’s eyes burned as bright and harshly as wildfire, and the look of pure hatred on her face was enough to send anyone running. But Sirius’ feet did not move, he stood there facing Mother as the seconds ticked by. Not a sound was heard; Reggie was off being tended to by Kreacher, whose sobs seemed to have stopped, and Father was nowhere to be seen, of course. The only sound was that of Mother’s breath, coming heavily from her nostrils. Sirius’ heart pounded in his ears. Mother was lying in wait like a predator, and he was the prey. Everything was still.
* * *
Regulus’ Perspective
Regulus awoke with a start. He was in his room, on his bed, lying on top of his dark green bed sheets. There was a slight tingling in his forehead, and something was dripping on his face. He let out a slight groan and opened his eyes. Kreacher was standing over him, tears falling silently from his eyes.
“Master Regulus is up! Master Regulus, oh, does Master’s head hurt?” Kreacher reached up to wipe his eyes. Regulus touched his forehead tentatively. It was smooth and unmarked.
“Krea—” Regulus’ voice cracked. He cleared it and tried again. “Kreacher, what happened?”
“Master Regulus, oh, Mistress did it, she was so angry at Master Sirius—” Regulus sat up with a start, head swimming as black spots appeared in his vision. Kreacher pushed him back.
“Master must not get up, Master must rest!” Kreacher conjured up a glass of water and handed it to Regulus, who drank deeply, feeling as if a drop of water had not passed his parched lips in ages. He tried remembering what had happened: he had walked in on Mother and Sirius yelling at each other, but what else was new? Sirius was constantly rebelling against their parents. Regulus sometimes thought he was brave, but mostly he thought he was stupid. Why would you take a risk if it could mean trouble? Regulus had learned by now how to behave. Sure, he and Sirius broke the rules sometimes, but the difference was that Regulus knew when to stop. He knew exactly what should be hidden, how much they could get away with. But Sirius never knew when to draw the line, or if he did, he wasn’t very good at showing it. Still, even when Sirius blurred the line between bravery and stupidity, Regulus still loved him; they were brothers, after all.
“Kreacher, where is Sirius now?” Regulus asked, bracing himself. He was not routinely subject Mother’s punishments, he did however, commonly watch her punish Sirius, heard his screams, and seen his body fall limp on the floor when she was done. He really hoped Sirius had swallowed his pride and apologised, the only thing that could stop Mother because she just needed to be right all the time. Knowing Sirius, however, he doubted this had happened. Kreacher wrinkled his nose at the mention of Sirius’ name.
“With Mistress,” Kreacher said neutrally. Regulus knew Kreacher wasn’t fond of Sirius, and the feeling was mutual. If Sirius had been nice to Kreacher like Regulus was, instead of treating him, well, like a house-elf, maybe they could have had a better relationship. Kreacher was Regulus’ best friend, after Sirius, of course.
“W-what was she doing to him?” Regulus asked, heart speeding up. Kreacher shook his head.
“Master Sirius was going against Mistress!” Kreacher’s voice rose. “And then Master Regulus came into the room, oh, why did Master Regulus have to get involved?”
“He’s my brother!” Regulus burst. “I… I had to stop her from hurting him.” He slumped back against his pillows. Kreacher conjured another glass of water and handed it to him wordlessly.
“Mistress was not hurting Master Sirius, Mistress was just—”
Regulus spilled water down his front as a blood-curdling scream reached his ears.