Chapter Text
Sirius Black stood at the edge of the platform, smoke curling around his boots, the whistle of the Hogwarts Express long gone. The station had emptied fast, excited parents collecting their children after many months without them, trunks vanishing with quick incantations, laughter fading as families and friends went though the brick wall that separated the wizarding world and the muggle world.
And James was gone.
No warm grin and shiny gaze. No bear hug. No outstretched hand saying “Let’s go home, mate.” Not a trace of what usually happened at the end of a school year.
Just gone.
“You can’t come back home with me this summer, Sirius. We need some time apart”
James’s words still rang in his ears. Cold. Final. The kind of tone Sirius had only ever heard from adults who had never been more disappointed, never from his best friend. Definitely not from James. Warm, caring and understanding James. His brother in everything but blood, his James. Sirius had stood dumbfounded at the end of the term, a bag half-slipped off his shoulder, trying to understand if it was a weird joke. Surely it must be right?
It wasn’t. Oh no, it wasn't.
“You tried to get Snape killed, Sirius. And you laughed! Remus- he could’ve- Godric, I don’t even know who you are right now. How do you live with yourself?”
The look that had been on James face that day would forever haunt him, a mixture of betrayal, hurt, anger, disbelief and worst of all, fear. James had been afraid of him. Just like Sirius was afraid of his mother. Sirius was becoming her.
Remus hadn't looked at him then. He hadn’t looked or talked to him once since that morning in the hospital wing. The only words that had been said was “you’re just like your family”, and Sirius couldn't find it in himself to disagree. Because it was true, and his parents hadn’t raised a liar.
Peter had stood awkwardly to the side, not saying anything which was somehow worse. His gaze had been set on the fuzzy rug in the common room, refusing to meet his eyes. His silence had been different from Remus, more unexpected, more hurtful.
And Sirius had realized then; he didn’t have anywhere else to go.
So he went back. With no other choice he went back to the one place he had promised himself to never return to.
Number Twelve, Grimmauld Place opened its mouth like a beast long starved. The hallway was eerily silent and that cloying scent of decay and blood magic hung heavy in the air. It was suffocating and Sirius wanted nothing else than to turn around and run to James, to beg for forgiveness. But he couldn't do that. Orion's word echoing in Sirius's head stopped him, “Blacks don't beg, nor do they apologise. We are better than every other family and it would be a disgrace for a member of the most ancient and noble house of black to do so”. So he stayed, feet rooted in place, with his head held high.
Walburga Black stood at the end of the hallway, her expression unreadable. Her black hair was in a tight bun at the nape of her neck and her emerald green robes hung from her frame, lips pursed into a frown. Her silence was somehow worse than her screaming, more intimidating.
“Bonjour maman, heureux de me voir?” Sirius looked straight in his mother's cold gray eyes, so alike his own, in an attempt to show no fear.
Walburga's eyes narrowed, gaze becoming even colder somehow, but she showed no sign that she was going to answer him.
“J'aurais pensé que je serais mort d'ici maintenant. C’est la dernière chose que tu m’as dit, non?” Sirius knew that he was pushing, but he wanted a reaction. No, he needed one. The only thing he had felt since that godforsaken night was numbness. And when Walburga's eyes went from cold to burning with anger he knew that he'd succeeded.
“Tu as du culot, de revenir ici. Tu es un raté, mais tu es mon fils. Fais comme si.” She said, turning her back and waltzing out.
That was the welcome. How lovely. But the lack of curses gave Sirius a false sense of security, though he knew better than that. Sirius took his trunk and dragged it up to his room and threw himself on his neatly made bed. The last few days had been exhausting and Sirius wanted nothing else than to sleep and it didn't take very long for his wish to be granted.
The next few days blurred into a gray mush.
Rooms locked for sitting with a slouch. Meals taken away for chewing with his mouth open. Wand confiscated for breathing too loud too close, even though he wasn't allowed to do magic outside of school. His wand had been his false sense of security and he felt naked without it. Kreacher had been muttering insults under his breath every time they were in the same room. Regulus hadn't said anything, but he watched Sirius sometimes, with something unreadable in his cloudy gray eyes.
The beatings came a week later, quickly followed by the curses. When Sirius had stopped answering questions. When he had started to push back. When he talked back and stood up for his beliefs. Walburga never needed much of an excuse, as long as Sirius wasn't the perfect heir she would do anything to make him into one.
The mirror James had once enchanted to work as a two way communication key laid cracked in Sirius’s drawer, under neatly stacked dress shirts. He had thrown it into a wall after countless unanswered calls. Useless. No response.
He stopped sleeping. Nights became endless loops of silence and misplaced anger. Realistically, he knew that he should be angry at himself for what he did. He had been the reason for being left behind. But he found that he was mostly angry at his friends. At James for saying that he wasn't allowed to come home, at Remus for comparing him to his family and at Peter for not saying anything at all. And mostly that he hadn't succeeded with the prank on Snape.
Sirius did feel guilty though, for what he had almost made Remus do, made Remus become. The Guilt was accompanied by disgust for himself. He really was like his family, no better than the people that had made his life a living hell. He lit the edge of old books with one of his old muggle lighters, just to watch something burn. To have control of some of the destruction that was his life. To have some control over his own actions.
By the second week, Sirius had stolen back his wand and broken into his father’s liquor cabinet. It didn't take much more than a hard kick, his father had probably not expected a liquor heist, which was stupid considering the fact that he had two fifteen year olds in the house. The firewhisky numbed the parts that ached worst. It blurred the memories, blurred the sound of Remus’s voice yelling “You’re just like your family!” as Sirius stood in the Hospital Wing with blood on his hands and nothing to say to defend his actions.
Some nights he whispered diffindo and watched as blood dripped down his arms and thighs, just to feel something other than anger before everything was swallowed by silence again.
When the owl from Hogwarts arrived with the supply list, Sirius didn’t open it. He laid on his bed, curtains drawn, staring at the crack in the ceiling. The feeling of his newly cut hair on his forehead made him want to rip it all off. His mother had in a fit of rage dragged him into one of the bathrooms and started cutting chunks of his hair off. Not neat at all and so far of what he had expected his mother would do to her beloved heir.
He didn’t want to go back, which was new. He didn’t want to go back to the place that had been his home for five years just to realize that he wasn't wanted there anymore. It was easy to pretend that everything was normal when he stayed in his room, isolated from everything. That nothing had changed and that when he returned to Hogwarts James would be there waiting for him, arms stretched out waiting for a hug. That Remus would smile that smile that was reserved for Sirius only, that Remus would capture his lips with his own and they would both become whole again after a summer apart. That Peter would banter with him about the smallest things, make the best snarky remarks that would make Sirius howl with laughter.
What was there for him now? Nothing, and it was all his fault.
But his mother insisted. “Tu reviendras et tu feras à nouveau la fierté de la famille. Tu n'as pas encore terminé, pas avec ce que tu pourrais encore devenir.”
That night, Regulus slipped into his room, sat at the edge of the bed, and spoke without looking at him.
“I saw what they did to you.”
Sirius didn't know how to respond, so he just laid there with his eyes set on the ceiling.
“You were wrong about me,” Regulus said softly. “But maybe you were wrong about yourself, too.”
Sirius rolled over to face him then, brows furrowed. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
Regulus's eyes were flat as he stood. “You think you’re better than this family. Better than me. But look at you now. No matter what you tell yourself you will always be a Black. But that doesn't have to be a bad thing”
He left before Sirius could respond, which was probably for the best as he had no clue what to say to that. He wanted so badly to disagree, but he knew somewhere deep down that Regulus was right.
So Sirius laid there, eyes stinging, the silence suddenly unbearable. Once again, the diffindo was heard whispering through the night into the dark room.
Back on the Hogwarts Express, Sirius sat alone in a compartment. The Marauders hadn’t come looking for him and Sirius saw that as a sign to stay away, to honer their wishes of him staying the fuck away from them even though the only thing he wanted was to sit with them as he had the previous four years. If it was mostly because of his own pride, no one had to know.
He didn't expect them to come look for him, but it hurt more than he expected it would have. More than he was willing to admit to anyone, more less himself.
His robes didn’t quite fit right anymore, it hung loosely on his frame. He’d lost weight during the summer, both from punishment from his parents and his lack of appetite in general. His eyes had grown hollow, sunken into their sockets with deep bags below them from many sleepless nights. He kept his sleeves pulled low, to hide what was underneath, to hide the shame of what he had done to himself. His fingers twitched every so often, for a drink, a smoke, anything to take the edge off.
“You look like a corpse.” The voice startled Sirius, he had been so deep inside his head that he hadn’t noticed the slytherin entering the compartment. Sirius whipped his head around so fast that he thought that he might have given himself whiplash. Barty Crouch Jr. stood before him, leaned casually on the doorframe as he looked down at Sirius, a smirk tugging at his lips.
“Thanks, wish I could say the same.” Sirius replied sarcastically. It was met with an amused smirk and a raised eyebrow.
“You know that wasn't a compliment right? Or I might worry.”
“Anything can be a compliment if you just want it to be, my dear Bartemius. So what are you doing here?” Sirius couldn't help but feel intrigued, the only conversations he had held with Barty was at pureblood parties and an occasional nod as they passed each other in the hallway.
“Come sit with us, Reggie mentioned something about you being abandoned by your dear friends.” The way Barty had said it so casually made Sirius see red and before he knew it he stood right in front of Barty, so close that their chests almost touched.
“You don’t know what the fuck youre talking about, they didn’t abandon me!” His voice came out low, almost like a growl, and Barty looked at him with a face that made him look as if he wasn't sure if he should be amused or down right concerned about Sirius. He settled on amused much to Sirius’s annoyment, the feeling of being perceived as a child growing.
“Sure thing sweetheart, if you say so. But, and correct me if I'm wrong, they aren't here. You're alone and you looked like you were on the brink of throwing yourself off the train when I stepped in here, so why don't you come sit with us. I'm sure Reggie would be absolutely delighted.” They were still pressed against each other, both refusing to back down as Barty's gaze drilled into Sirius, as if they were in a silent staring contest.
“Fuck you Crouch, but since I have noting better to do, I guess i’ll come with you. Cant let you return to the others all beaten down because of a rejection.” Barty huffed out a laugh at the response and Siris felt a burst of pride shoot out his chest at the sound, he still had it then.
Barty shook his head in disbelief as he turned to the compartment door, tilting his head in a sign for Sirius to follow him as he left.
And Sirius did, because what else could he do? Wallow in self pity? No, he's a Black for Merlin's sake.
The Slytherin compartment was warmer than Sirius expected, which was stupid when he thought about it. All the compartments on the Hogwarts Express were nearly identical and students could sit wherever they wanted to.
Sirius felt out of place by the way eyes turned towards him as he entered, curious but not entirely hostile. Barty walked through the small place until he sat against the window, boot propped on the edge of the seat, arms folded like a prince bored with court. Beside him, Evan Rosier sipped something dark and steaming from a flask. Rabastan Lestrange played with a silver dagger, spinning it between his fingers like he wanted someone to ask why. Self absorbed prick, no one cares, you can spin that knife the whole ride and no one will ask.
Regulus sat near the door, watching. That same flat gaze that he had the last time they talked, impossible to read. It made Sirius unrealistically mad, once upon a time that had been able to read each other without even looking at each other. When they were smaller Bella had joked about them having twin telepathy since they always knew exactly what the other was about to do. Oh how things have changed, and it was his fault, again.
When Sirius stepped further in, the atmosphere room shifted slightly. Not in anger as Sirius first thought it would, but in recognition. Recognition that Sirius Black, blood traitor heir to the house of Black, was back with his brother and the people he grew up with on his own accord.
“Well,” Evan drawled, eyes glittering, “didn’t expect to see both black brothers in this compartment when I first sat down. But Barty's always been prone to bring dogs back to school after breaks.”
Rabastan smirked. Regulus didn’t. Of course he didn't.
Sirius raised an eyebrow. “You must know that, I can imagine.”
A snort was heard from the corner where Barty was sat, which was shortly followed by a hiss of pain as Evans elbow made contact with Barty's ribs. Laughter echoed through the room as something akin to acceptance started to grow. A quiet acknowledgment of Sirius return to the people he had once spent every second with.
“Sit down, Sirius.”Regulus said, finally relaxed for the first time since Sirius stepped through the doors. Something finally showing in gray eyes, so small that Sirius almost missed it. But he didn’t and it made something in his chest unravel. “We need to do something about your hair before we arrive, can’t have you looking like a niffler now can we?”
Sirius huffed a laugh as he sat down. Grateful for something to occupy his mind with, grateful for having a part of his brother back in his life.