I, Sirius

TITLE: I, Sirius


AUTHOR: Lady Sirius

PAIRING: RL/SB

RATING: NC17

FEEDBACK: shelley_runyon@yahoo.com


DISCLAIMER: Of course all rights to Harry Potter belong to JK Rowling

- I only wish that Sirius and Remus were mine, other than in my heart!


DEDICATION: To my glorious, talented, wondrous and everlastingly sexy
inspiration - Gary Oldman - and to all those fans whose enthusiasm and kind words keep me going!



I, Sirius
Reflections of the Brightest Star

Chapter IV - A Lesson Learned

"Sir-i-ussssssss! Sir-i- us!" The childish voice was becoming more and more demanding, and not only was it rising in volume and irritation quotient, but it was coming closer and closer, and I realized that it wouldn't be long before he found me, located me in my secret hiding place, that place where I felt safest in the world, away from them, away from everything. Just me. And Regulus, when I allowed him. Which normally I would not mind, but today I was afraid he would lead the others to me, and that simply would not do at all. Heaving a reluctant sigh, I gathered up my things, stuffing my paperback copy of King Arthur and his Knights into the pocket of my robe, my solitary bliss disturbed, at least for now, as I emerged from the shelter of the darkness which had hidden me. Someday, I vowed to myself, I would be able to practice the spells that would allow me to conceal myself better, and then there would be no such rude intrusion upon my privacy. But this was now and that was then, and there was nothing I could do about it but accept it. Tales of the Round Table, and of the great and powerful wizard Merlin would have to wait, at least for now.

I had no doubt, even at the age of nine, that I would be accepted into Hogwarts School of Wizardry when the time came, once I turned eleven. Just as I never doubted that Regulus would also do so, after me. Everyone in my family had done it, it was expected of us all. Standard behaviour. De rigeur, don't you know. I had never heard of a single Black attending any other school, and of course there were other schools, I'd heard of some of them, in other parts of the world. Durmstrang, and Beaux Batons, and a school whose name I forget in the Orient - Japanese, I believe.

"Here I am, Reg," I called out to my brother and was rewarded with his pleased smile, and the enthusiastic hug of a seven year old who still had a certain joi de vivre, and had yet to acquire the cynicism and overweening hubris which marked his later years.

"Aunt Walburga sent us to find you," came a voice from behind him, and I latently became aware of Narcissa's presence, as she approached us. Even at that age she had a certain quiet dignity which belied her years. For thirteen, she was poised and calm at all times - well, most times. I'd seen her get into scraps with Bella where the fur fairly flew between them. Frosty blonde, blue eyed, she was not the typical dark Black. At least not on the exterior. Inwardly, she was probably more like them than I cared to think about - which I realize now. But perhaps that came from years of association with Lucius Malfoy. Malfoy - the very name causes my lip to curl in disdain. Glad-hander, sycophant, toady - smarmy, self-absorbed git that he always was. Always will be. Lord Voldemort's lap dog. Just as Snivellus is his.

"Am I in trouble?" I asked warily, watching her eyes, rather than my brother's face, for I knew he would blurt out the truth if that were so, while Cissa was harder to read, so I had to be more careful of her.

"No, they're gathering everyone," she said evenly, "I believe they're about to make some kind of an announcement. Aunt Walburga sent Kreacher to the cellar for the good wine."

I breathed a little easier then. The mention of the wine told me this had nothing to do with me, they were merely trotting me out for show in front of the relatives, for whatever reason. Probably to uphold their status as good parents, staunch supporters of family values, pillars of the community? Yeah, right. They were fucking dark wizards, and just about as cruel as you can get. I had yet to realize, though, just how cruel that could be. Time would correct any such misapprehensions on my part, however.

As we spoke we began to meander back toward the house, as I could think of no easy way to get out of this. Narcissa and Regulus walked in single file ahead of me, Cissa first actually, my brother lingering behind, in order to keep me within earshot, I supposed. But I had nothing to say, and I couldn't work up any real enthusiasm about a familial announcement which surely did not concern me at all.

Just before we reached the dark and dismal house, I spied a stranger lurking in the doorway there. He was smoking a fag, his long frame seeming to fill the doorway as he blew lazy smoke rings into the air. The reason that I remember this is because I was greatly astonished to see such a sight - my mother was a stickler for not allowing smoking in her house. Even my father dare not light up anything while on the premises; he would simply leave her to her own devices and do his own thing - as far from her as possible - which suited him quite well. So who dared to be so bloody impudent, I wondered? Who could have the desire to be lambasted by Walburga Black?

The stranger watched the three of us, carefully, as one by one we entered the house. I could hear the buzz of adult conversation emanating from the front parlor (yes, that same room in which my father awaited the news of my birth). Apparently he was no stranger to Cissa, for she gave him a curious look, and for a second I fancied that she dropped him a half-curtsey as she passed by, and I heard her greet him with, "H'lo, Lord Voldemort," and the man replied with, "Good evening, Miss Black." He even had the audacity to rumple Regulus' hair as he came abreast of him. My brother merely squirmed from beneath his hand, and hastened after our cousin, while the man then turned his eyes upon me.

I'll never forget those eyes, long as I live, for they were warm and cold at one and the same time, and I felt a distinct chill run up my spine when I felt his gaze. "Master Black," he greeted me, and I suppose I mumbled something in return, but I couldn't help a growing feeling of revulsion. If I knew then what I know now - alas, though, I did not, or so many things could have been prevented. But then again, it's easy to say that, for at that time, I knew nothing of magic to speak of, and would have been ill-equipped to go up against one of the strongest wizards of all times - perhaps the strongest wizard - armed with nothing more than brash impudence. So it's probably just as well that I knew nothing then.

I edged my way around him, uncomfortably, putting him out of my mind, as I decided that I would simply skirt the whole thing and head toward my room. What did they really need me for, anyway? I might have made it, too, but at that moment that misbegotten Kreacher had the misfortune (my misfortune, anyway) to be approaching, carrying a bottle of wine in his hand, while behind him an under house elf carefully balanced glasses. He took one look at me, one foot upon the stairs, heading to freedom, and cried out, "Missus, Missus, young Massa Sirius is going to his room!" And he fixed me with such a look of triumph, a hellish look, knowing exactly what he had done in cutting off my avenue of escape. I was caught, and there was no help for it now, so I simply followed Reg and Cissa into the parlour, where my mother gave me a very scathing glance - nothing I wasn't used to - and I stood there, waiting to hear what the big deal was all about.

Which, as it turned out, was of little interest to me, of course. It was to announce the engagement of my cousin Bellatrix to one Rodolphus Lestrange. Hip hip hooray - not! If ever there was a couple that deserved one another, it was those two - they were blackbirds of a feather, one being creepier than the other. Him with those hooded eyes, and that perpetual sneer. Her with that cackling laugh and quick hand. She was bossy, cruel and dominating - he was weak, cruel and utterly whipped by her. She said jump, he asked how high. And from what I had heard, they both had a way with knives, and a proclivity toward carving up small animals. The thought of them makes me shudder. And as crazy as they both were back then, they only got worse... in Azkaban. But let's not go there, shall we?

After the adults had clinked their glasses together and drunk their toasts, and patted one another on the back over the "fine match" that had been made, and the strong union between the two families, the young'uns were sent off to the next room, as the mysterious Lord V struck a pose beside the fireplace (I suppose it was too much to hope he intended to floo away), cleared his throat, as if he intended to speak. I admit I wasn't listening to anything that he might have said, being totally disinterested at best, but duly allowed myself to be shepherded along with the others as to attempt to leave now would simply draw attention to myself and I would rather not do that. Perhaps I could slip away from there more easily, I decided. I was surprised that the recently engaged couple were going with us as well - I would have assumed their newly affianced condition would automatically raise them to adult status. But perhaps they had another agenda. Damn. That might make my exit more difficult.

Narcissa and Andromeda were oohing and aahing over Bellatrix's engagement ring. Personally, I thought it was ugly - large and tastelessly gaudy - so I paid it, and them, no attention. Rodolphus was standing there smirking, as if he had actually done something. We knew the whole thing had been arranged by their parents so I wondered where he got off claiming any credit for himself, the git. Was there even a proposal involved, or were they simply told this is what you're going to do? Of course, they did seem rather pleased about it, but then, they'd been best friends forever. Like I said, birds of a feather. Rodolphus' brother Rabastan, who was the same age as Reg, was trying to entice my brother into some sort of a game, I think it involved a small ball, I'm not sure. So I took up a position in a chair in the corner, pulled out my book and generally ignored everyone.

That is, until the bride-to-be deigned to notice me for whatever reason. I suspect it was pure shite evilness, myself. "Narcissa, maybe if you're lucky, our parents will make a match for you with dear cousin Sirius..." I could hear the sarcasm dripping from her voice. "Wouldn't that be lovely? You wouldn't have to change your name, just like Aunt Walburga."

Yes, my mother and my father were first cousins, both Blacks. Yes, we're the product of inbreeding. But most purebloods are. Siriusly, there are just so many families left, after all, and they keep diving into the pool... But it didn't mean I wanted to participate in this perverse genetic travesty. Not to mention, although I liked Narcissa, I was nine years old and I thought that girls for the most part were icky creatures. Especially Bellatrix.

But at the same time, I had a big mouth sometimes, and didn't know when to keep it shut. Like now.

"Better than marrying the likes of you," I muttered to myself. I say muttered, but apparently my voice was more audible to the rest of the room than I'd intended cause suddenly there was dead silence, other than a shocked gasp or two, and I raised my eyes to find Bella standing before my chair, flushed. And very displeased. Not that I actually cared, but maybe I should have.

She narrowed her eyes at me, as she said, "What did you say, Sirius?"

My first thought was to deny it all and make a quick exit, but apparently my ready wit took over, leaving my common sense far behind, as I replied, "Better off marrying Narcissa than you any day." Even as the words left my lips, I felt myself being lifted from my chair by Bella's stooge, aka Rodolphus, my arms bent painfully behind my back. I struggled against his grip, but in vain - he had the advantage of me both in years and in strength.

"Hex him, love," he encouraged her, as I attempted to kick him, crying out, "Let go of me, you stupid prick...."

Without warning I felt a sudden pressure in the middle of my face, and it took me a moment to realize that Bella had just punched me squarely in the nose. Narcissa and Andromeda both screamed, Reg looked like he wanted to cry, but Bella and Rodolphus, and even Rabastan, were all laughing. Blood streamed warmly from my nose, and how badly I wanted to hit her back now, even if I had been raised not to hit girls, told it was not the gentlemanly thing to do. At this moment, the farthest thought from my mind was being a gentleman. I wanted revenge - and I wanted it now.

"Fucking bitch," I spat at her, but it certainly didn't come out that way, luckily, as the adults made their appearance, probably brought by the sounds of the screaming, or maybe even the scent of blood. Bella never moved, her shrill laughter pouring over me like salt in a wound. But at least, I thought, she would be punished now for what she had done.

Little did I know.

The stronger known as Voldemort took Bella's hand in his own, stained as it was with my blood, and using his own handkerchief gently wiped it off. I could see some sort of open admiration in his eyes, while my own parents, far from being upset at what had been done to their child seemed - disgusted? Cygnus, on the other hand, was chortling at his daughter's antics. "Walburga, are you raising a weakling or what?" to which her only reply was to glare at me.

What? I was the injured party here, why was I receiving such censure from someone who should have been tending to my wounds? And yet the only such attention was being lavished upon my attacker? I was sorely confused, as I glanced at the adults, who seemed more bemused than anything - while my parents seemed embarrassed. Over me!

Just then Numa bustled into the room, taking me easily in hand, as if she'd been called. "Come along Master Sirius," she said, dropping a quick curtsey to my parents. She pulled me from the room, and down to the kitchen, where she tenderly cleaned me up, and fixed my nose as well as she could (to this day, if you look carefully, it is not completely straight, a result of that encounter with my bitchy cousin), the whole time cooing to me and singing to me. She plied me with cake and honeyed tea and generally fussed over me, but there was only so much she could do about my injured psyche.

That's the day that I learned the difference between family and love...