Chapter Text
It was around mid-afternoon at Grimmauld place. Sirius was bored out of his mind, and it was only three weeks into the summer break. Sixth year really couldn't come fast enough; he desperately missed his friends already. This old house was so unbelievably dreary, sucking the life out of anyone who enters like a structural dementor. His only solace was the letters he got from James and Remus- none from Peter as he was busy on vacation in France- and his record player Lily Evans got him for his birthday last year.
Some of those letters were scattered on his bed having just been delivered a few hours prior. Sirius tried to enjoy what summer he had- as lonely and depressing as it was. No screeching family members to rain on his parade. Yes, he was minding his own business for once, the Ramones playing on a record in the background and a muggle magazine Lily had sent him in hand. Of course that didn't stop his mother from barging into his room, her resting bitch face steadily in place. Before he could even get an indignant word out she started her usual spiel.
"Oh, good, you aren't doing anything useful as always. You are going to a ball with us tonight, the McKinnons are bringing their nice pureblood daughter to arrange a marriage for her with you." She gave him a sharp look as he opened his mouth to protest. He clamped his mouth shut, jaw clenched in frustration.
"You will be going Sirius Orion and I don't want any of your ridiculous behavior tonight you understand? And for Merlin's sake get out of that disgusting muggle clothing! You're a disgrace to this family. At least you will have some use to us when you marry into the McKinnons." Walburga smoothed down her dress and moved as if to leave.
Finally, Sirius was able to get a word in. "I refuse. She is my cousin and even if she wasn't, I would not wish to marry her as I don’t care for her in any way other than a sister. Take your fucking ball and shove it up fathers’ arse. Aren't you already manipulating perfect ickle Reggie into your sadistic ways?"
That earned him a hard slap, his head snapping to the side, a stinging red mark forming with an indent he later assumed was her signet ring. Sirius pushed his hair back and jutted his chin defiantly. Tears sprang in his eyes but he ignored them.
Walburga’s lip curled in disgust. "You dare speak to your mother that way! I have dealt with your disrespect long enough. It is time you are taught to keep your vile mouth shut. You have defiled the Black family name with your disgusting habits and blood-traitor friends! Filthy half-bloods and mudbloods alike. Merlin knows your father hasn't taken punishment far enough over the years to end this childish rebellion once and for all."
With a small flick of her wrist, Sirius collapsed, writhing in pain. It felt like burning knives were tearing their way through every orifice of his body. He convulsed with every painful contraction of his muscles. Walburga Black used the Cruciatus curse with no remorse that this was her child she was abusing. Her face remained stoic, her eyes cold and unfeeling. It felt like eons had passed before the pain receded and he was left feeling paralyzed on the floor, everything aching and yet he was numb. He couldn't even find it in himself to cry as he lay on the floor, soiled, where the curse made him lose control of his bladder. The mental infliction was almost as horrid as the physical, knowing it was the person who should be nurturing him that was tearing him apart inside out.
Walburga didn't say a word as she stalked out of the room with purposeful footsteps, head held high, and slamming the door behind her. A motorbike poster fell off the wall in her wake.
*******
It was two days later and he was littered with bruises, his limbs were sore and his head felt heavy- possibly a concussion- it seemed that last bit of defiance was the straw that broke the thestral’s back and now his mother was stopping by his room like clockwork to punish him for something or other. In fact, she had locked him in there. After the incident on Saturday, she had said that if he wasn't going to comply and leave for the ball that night he wasn't going to leave at all until September 1st- if he was lucky.
He accepted his fate and thanked whatever higher power if there was one, that his friends had their own owls so he could at least still enjoy that small pleasure. Currently, he was writing a reply to Remus, one hand idly tracing his friend's loopy handwriting on the opened parchment. He couldn't find it in himself to fake any sort of enthusiasm as he wrote. He didn't mention how his home life was going this summer, the marauders of course knew it was always rough, but it was getting worse. If he wasn’t on the ground under a cruciatus, he was trapped in his own mind, which at the moment was crossing a very thin line toward breaking.
Instead, he talked about all the new music he was listening to. How he interpreted the lyrics, what he thought of the artist, and if he would buy more albums from them. It wasn't anything abnormal as this was a prevalent topic of conversation and one that got very tiresome for everyone else. He didn't care. As long as he managed to reply to Moony with something. He was sure his friend was going through a much worse summer with the full moon steadily approaching. No doubt his father Lyall wouldn't provide him with chocolate and a cuddle pile.
An audible sigh left his lips as he stood, stretching all the while, and moved towards the window where Remus's owl- Truffle- was waiting. The fluffy-looking bird ruffled his feathers and hooted softly as Sirius tied the letter to his leg. Truffle gave his finger a nip in acknowledgment before flying out into the darkening sky.
*****
Sometime in the dead middle of the night, Sirius awoke to an incessant tapping at his window. He blearily looked at the offending glass in confusion and saw a small figure standing on the ledge. He soon recognized Truffles' round figure and stumbled out of his blankets towards him. Leave it to his Moony to send letters out at ungodly hours of the night. As soon as he opened the window enough for the small owl to get in, Truffle stuck his leg out patiently for Sirius to take the appendage.
He obliged and untied the twine holding it to the bird's leg and motioned towards the water bowl and treats in the corner, assuming the owl was exhausted after the trip back and forth. Leaving him be, Sirius sat on his bed and opened the parchment as quietly as he could.
Dearest Padfoot,
As much as I always like to hear of your exploits in music, are you okay? James said you haven't been owling as much anymore and your last letter sounded a little off. Maybe I'm reading too far into it, but I wanted to check in on you just in case something is up. Is your mum giving you trouble? Regulus issues?
Sincerely (and concernedly),
Moony
Sirius just stared at the words for a while, tracing the loops of Remus's y's and contemplating what to say in reply. He could tell Remus what's been going on and inevitably stress him out as he worries about his friend even when he is about to be torn to shreds and put back together twice in 24 hours. He could also continue to mask his struggles and hope that Remus's perceptive nature wouldn’t shine through and see past his bullshit. Lying would just make him even more anxious as he would know something was wrong but not what.
Eventually, he decided to just take the plunge and tell Remus the truth- mostly- but begged him not to tell James because Sirius knew his best friend would storm the place himself, his parents in tow. He tried not to have a small meltdown and threw the letter in the rubbish bin multiple times before taking it back out each time. He steeled himself and tied it to Truffles' waiting leg before he could talk himself out of it once more and just write some rubbish excuse instead. He had worked around the lines a little bit, however, and said the damage wasn't that bad, he was fine, really. He told him he just wards Walburga off by blasting his records at the highest volume, even though if he did that he would end up in agonizing pain. Now he waited, staring at the beginning of sunlight in his bedroom window. He fidgeted with a ring on his index for a moment, thinking, before sighing and climbing back into bed.