Before Sirius knew it, the school year was ending. It had been the best experience of his life, and he didn’t want to leave. He dreaded going home. He knew his mother would be even angrier at him since he was sorted into Gryffindor. But at least he had something to sustain him; his friends.
They had all promised to write and he knew that he would spend the summer in his room, replying. He knew James especially would take time to write because he knew what the other pure-blood families were like, and loathed them just as much as he did. And then something happened that made the summer look almost bearable.
* * *
It was his last few hours of freedom for a very long time, Sirius thought, as he watched with dread as Hogwarts grew smaller and smaller. It had been the only true home he had ever known.
He was sitting with other Marauders in the compartment. They were talking about what they were doing this summer, and Sirius had no wish whatsoever to be part of the conversation, so he continued to stare out the window. Just then the train took a swift turn and the wonderful castle that Sirius loved so much was gone. He sighed.
“Sirius, mate, it’s not like you’re never gonna see it again,” James said, grinning.
“Well, you’d miss it a lot too if you had my family to come back to,” he replied darkly.
“Yeah, I suppose,” said James.
* * *
Sirius was watching a game of wizard chess, in which James was beating Peter badly, when the train began to slow. Sirius groaned and lifted his trunk off the rack. He stepped off the train and onto the platform with James at his side.
James drew him to the side of the platform. “Hey Sirius, I asked my parents and they said that you could come over for part of the summer,” said James, his eyes sparkling.
Sirius spirits lifted. “James, you’ve saved my life, you have.”
“I take that as a yes. I’ll write t’you this summer about it.”
“Yeah, that’d be great!”
James led him back to Peter and Remus. “Well, I suppose I’ll see you next year,” Sirius said, grinning.
“Yeah. Good luck mate!” said James.
“Bye!” Sirius said, raising a hand in farewell and walking toward his family at the edge of the platform.
“Goodbye!” the other three called after him.
When he reached his mother, who was standing near the barrier with Regulus, he saw she was fuming. She glared at him with even more loathing than usual, and her face was bright red as if she trying hard not to explode. It was nothing more than he had expected.
She acted as if he weren’t there, and merely took Regulus by the hand and led him back through the barrier. They walked through the station and climbed into the Ministry of Magic car waiting for them, his mother in the front seat, and Regulus next to him in the back.
Regulus stared at him, wide eyed. “What are you looking at?” Sirius snarled, and Regulus looked away.
They were silent the rest of the drive. Sirius didn’t dare say anything more, afraid his mother’s temper would explode.
* * *
When they arrived home, Sirius felt another huge wave of dread wash over him as he climbed the stairs behind his mother. With his new freedom at Hogwarts, he had almost forgotten how much he hated this place. Almost, but not entirely.
Before he entered the house, he willed every ounce of courage and strength he had, and prepared himself for the very worst. Then he squared his shoulders with his head held high defiantly, and stepped through the door.
* * *
The night was worse than he ever could have imagined, thought Sirius as he lay in bed. His body ached all over and his throat hurt from shouting. His parents had hit him before, but it wasn’t comparable to this.
The moment he had entered the house his mother started hissing insults vehemently at him. It had taken all of his willpower not to shout back; he knew he would pay if he did. But then came the very insult that he simply could not put up with, and Sirius couldn’t take it any longer.
* * *
“Who are you to walk around with ungrateful smirk on your face,” hissed his mother, “and to spend your whole year strutting around with all those mudbloods and filth? I wish you weren’t my son. Why couldn’t I have Bella? Why can’t you be more like your cousin than the insolent little git you are? You-”
“DON’T YOU DARE EVER COMPARE ME TO BELLA!” Sirius shouted, shaking with anger. “I WOULD RATHER DIE THAN BE LIKE HER! AND WHEN SHE DIES, SHE’LL GO TO HELL WITH THE REST OF THOSE STUPID SLYTHERINS THAT BECOME DARK WIZARDS!”
“DON’T YOU DARE TALK TO ME THAT WAY, SIRIUS BLACK!” his mother roared back, turning brick red with rage. “AFTER ALL WE’VE DONE FOR YOU! RAISING YOU TO BE PART OF THE NOBLE AND MOST ANCIENT HOUSE OF BLACKS! WE TREATED YOU WITH KINDNESS AND RESPECT AND-”
“KINDNESS AND RESPECT? YOU DON’T KNOW THE WORD KINDNESS, WOMAN, IF YOU CALL THAT KINDNESS!” he yelled, laughing bitterly.
“UPSTAIRS! NOW!” his mother screeched, and Sirius had stomped up the stairs, still shaking with rage.
* * *
It was 2 hours later and Sirius was lying in his bed, still fuming.
“SIRIUS BLACK! GET DOWN HERE NOW AND HELP COOK DINNER!” His mother’s voice made him jump and he scowled and went downstairs, trying hard to control his anger.
“Get over here, boy! If you are going to live in this house, you are going to help out!” she said as soon as he entered the kitchen, and Sirius could here the barely suppressed rage in her voice. She was standing over a pan of vegetables shooting a thin jet of hot water at them with her wand.
His father was reading the Evening Prophet at the dinner table, and Regulus was watching the scene eagerly from the dining room. Sirius scowled at him.
“I thought I’m supposed to be your son, not your slave,” Sirius said to her, sneering.
His mother’s nostrils flared as she turned to look at him, her wand still pouring the steaming water. “You are no son of mine,” she said coldly.
He turned his back away from her and began to walk towards the dining room. “Yeah, like I really want to be your son,” he said quietly, but his mother had heard him. The next thing he knew his body was searing with pain as his mother turned her wand at him and sent the jet of steaming hot water at his back.
He screamed as he felt it burn through his shirt and scald his back, and he sank to his knees. He screwed his face up in pain, and knelt, panting hard, and horrified. He knew his parents were bad, but how could they be this cruel?!
His mother had turned back to the vegetables and continued cooking them as if nothing had happened. Sirius looked up and saw his father coming towards him.
The pain was getting worse now, and he felt as if he were on fire. Tears sprung up in his eyes, but he refused to cry.
It was getting even worse, and Sirius couldn’t hold his tears back, they flooded down his face.
“Blacks do not cry,” his father said coldly.
“I told you, I am not a Black,” Sirius replied, struggling to speak through the pain.
He looked up at his father again, and his father studied him for a moment.
“I thought Gryffindors were supposed to be brave,” he finally said, maliciously.
Sirius met his eyes and stared into them defiantly. “They are,” Sirius said, speaking more clearly this time. “They aren’t like Slytherins. They’re not cowards.”
His father slapped him on the cheek. “Fool,” he said, “we are not cowards. Unlike Gryffindors, we don’t feel the need to mess with heroics.”
“And us Gryffindors don’t feel the need to mess with the Dark Arts.”
This time his father hit him in the face with the back of his hand. Hard. Very hard. He heard a crack and blood spurted everywhere. His nose had broken.
“Don’t say what you know nothing about. Go. Now. No dinner,” his father said cruelly, and walked silently back to the table.
With a great effort, Sirius managed to stand upright, and ran as fast as he could, wincing, to his room.
* * *
He knew the Ministry couldn’t tell who had done magic, since other wizards lived in this house, so he had done all he could to heal his injuries.
He had managed to heal his nose and get rid of all the blood quickly enough. He had then turned his attention to his back.
He gently took off his shirt, and looked at his back in the mirror. He had gasped in horror. A long, thin scar ran diagonally down his back, looking red and inflamed. He had tried every healing spell he could think of, but none removed it. Then he’d given up, and used another spell to reduce the pain somewhat. He’d stared at it for a long time, then changed into his pajamas and climbed into bed.
* * *
It was the middle of July, and the heat in London was sweltering. People went as quickly as possible from one place to another, spending the least amount time possible outside. For most people, it was just another hot day, but for Sirius it was very exciting.
A few weeks ago, James had sent an owl asking if Sirius could come and spend the rest of the summer with him. Sirius had been ecstatic. He couldn’t wait to get away from home again!
While his parents hadn’t yelled at him, or in fact, talked to him at all, he didn’t enjoy being locked up in his room the whole day except for meals. Those moments in which he happened to be in the presence of his parents were tense. He didn’t think he could take it much longer. He could practically feel the rage coming from them, and Regulus only stared at him. He ignored this, and forced himself to remain calm. There was no point in seeking another argument. He wanted to avoid another incident like before. He reminded himself that he still had a long time before he became of age and was finally free of them.
His parents had agreed to let him go only because it would mean getting him out of their way for the rest of the summer, so today he was off to the Potter Mansion.
He wasn’t quite sure what he would do at the Potters’. He had forgotten what I was like to be around his friends, and to be happy. James was also bound to notice his scar. Although it was not red and inflamed anymore, it was still clearly visible. He supposed it would be best to try and hide it for the time being. He didn’t want to give his parents the satisfaction of knowing he had complained. It was his own burden to bear.
After he had finished lunch, Sirius’s mother handed him a bowl of Floo powder and walked away without a word. Sirius ran upstairs and grabbed his trunk, his broom, and Harry’s cage. He then dragged his luggage to the fireplace and stepped inside. He took a pinch of powder and threw it down. Green flames shot up.
“Number 21 Maple Street, Potter Mansion!” Sirius yelled, and the room spun. He caught glimpses of many other grates before he arrived at the Potter Mansion. He stepped out of the fireplace, coughing, and found himself in a very big, very fancy room. It was also quite cozy with a lively fire in the fireplace and dark red walls. The draperies and carpet were of a rich gold and many mahogany bookshelves lined the walls. There were also many portraits of someone Sirius recognized as Godric Gryffindor. In the center of the room were a big, comfortable looking sofa and several squashy armchairs, one of which was occupied by James Potter.
“Hi mate,” said James, grinning at him.
He smiled back grimly. “Hi.” he said.
“My family is really big on Gryffindor. Can you tell?” asked James, watching Sirius eyes travel around the room.
“Really? I hadn’t noticed,” Sirius said sarcastically.
James grinned again. “C’mon! Let’s go upstairs. I’ll show you my room.” James led him up a grand curved staircase and down a wide hallway lit with gold sconces to the very last door. James opened the door and helped Sirius carry his trunk, then Harry and his broom, into the room and onto a large bed.
Sirius looked around the room curiously. There was a huge four poster bed with silver bedding in the middle, and a smaller also silver bed had been set up for him next to James’s.
Every inch of the wall was covered in posters of quidditch players in sparkling silver and pale blue robes. He watched as they dived in and out and moved through the air so quickly it made him dizzy. His uncle had taught him the rules of Quidditch, and of course, given him the broom, and a quaffle to play with, but he had never seen it actually played professionally.
The very little wall that was showing was a pale blue, like on the quidditch players’ robes. His room was very messy, with clothes and books and such strewn everywhere.
“Well, what do you think?” James asked eagerly.
“Nice.” he replied
James looked disappointed. “Are you okay, mate? You don’t look so good,” James said with concern.
“Oh, it’s nothing,” said Sirius, forcing a smile. “Just, stuff at home,” he mumbled.
“Oh, I’m sorry mate. I would’ve asked you to come earlier, but mum told me you should spend some time with your family first. I tried to tell her you didn’t want to, but she wouldn’t listen,” said James seriously.
“It’s okay. It’s not your fault”
“Was it really that bad?” he asked in a hushed voice.
Sirius shrugged. He didn’t really think he was ready to talk about it.
James obviously realized this because he quickly changed the subject.
“Hey, would you like to play some Quidditch?” He asked.
Sirius brightened. “Sure! I haven’t played in forever.”
“Well then, what are we waiting for?! Let’s go!” said James, enthusiastically gathering up his broom, and Sirius picked up his own broom and hurried out the door after him.
They set off back down the hallway, down the staircase, and through a set of glass doors that led out to a large deck. They had a huge expanse of grassy land, perfect for playing quidditch. There were three large, gold hoops set up at each end of the field, which was almost the size of a full stadium.
He ran out to the field and kicked off from the ground as James went to get the Quaffle. He streaked upward towards the sky and watched as the ground below him got farther and farther away. And as he soared around the field and felt the wonderful feeling of the cool wind sweeping through his hair and heard the whoosh of it in his ears, he felt as if all his worries were lifted.
Why Couldn't the Good Times Last? by FredsFriend
Chapter Notes: Here is that monster chapter I've been promising. It's really quite an important one. Enjoy!!!!! And PLEASE review.