Post by Sirius Black on Jun 25, 2017 3:38:00 GMT -5
Number 12 Grimmauld Place, July 1976
{Sirius/Regulus}
{Sirius/Regulus}
Words: 1061 | Tag: Regulus Black | Outfit |
A black bag rested against his closet door, an undetectable extension charm allowing every last item of clothing to fit inside along with his other possessions. Sirius had left the bag there for weeks, not quite sure when he'd be ready to leave, not sure when he'd have the courage to walk away from this house for the last time. One things he was sure of, however, was that he would leave before the next school year commenced. He would have left right after he returned from Hogwarts last year, when he once again returned to the cold house, receiving the familiar loathing and disappointment he'd grown to expect within the vicinity of the charming woman he had the pleasure of calling his mother; he would have walked out the door, not sparing a moment for second thoughts if it weren't for the black eyes staring up at him, silently pleading for him to stay. Regulus didn't need to say anything for Sirius to know he would be devastated if his older brother ever left him, and for that reason, the lone Gryffindor stayed. Until now, that is. If it weren't for his little brother, he wouldn't have thought twice about leaving. Sadly...there was nothing else keeping him here.
However, it wasn't reason enough for him to stay forever. When he'd come home that day from the shopping center--hoping to go straight up to his room and spend the rest of his day sleeping so as to avoid his parents and that repulsive little house elf who went by the, startlingly accurate, name of Kreacher--he was, instead, met with the accusing, spiteful eyes of the head of this Black household--Walburga Black. As soon as he stepped foot through the door, she went off firing her questions and assumptions, telling him what a disgrace he was to the family, telling him that he was a blood-traitor, telling him how grateful he should be that they hadn't thrown him on the streets the moment he returned wearing the red-and-gold colors which symbolized his betrayal to the Black family name. He wasn't entirely sure what had set her off this time, but the woman had a habit of taking any and all frustrations out on her eldest son, so he chose not to question her reasoning. Instead, he strode past her, not without experiencing a stinging slap to his cheek first, and went up the stairs to his room, slamming the door behind him and turning the lock.
Now, after having thrown the majority of supplies that once resided on his desk to the floor and making a dent in the wooden dresser that had been emptied just the other day, the young wizard sat at the edge of his bed, hands covering his head as he attempted to calm himself with deep breaths. It would always happen this way; he would get angry, break a few things or yell at the source of his anger, before sitting down to quell that fury and mending the things he'd broken. Usually, he would also go up to his mother or father, whoever was the cause of his outburst, and apologize to them for things he wasn't even responsible for. More often than not, it seemed he was merely apologizing for who he was, for his presence. As time went by, though, he was doing that less often. Just letting the problems fester and letting his parents hate him even more by not giving them a proper apology. Even when they'd come and demand one from him, he would remain silent, letting them throw whatever they could at him before they would, eventually, leave him to his thoughts.
This time, he'd waited a few hours for his mother to come yelling through his door, banging on the wood before storming off, but she never came. And surely, at such a late hour, she'd already gone off to bed. He was grateful for that, grateful that he didn't have to deal with her any more today, but it also hurt him. Recently, it seemed that she wasn't even trying to punish him anymore, like she wasn't interested in fixing his attitude. Normally, he'd be delighted at the thought, but it evoked a different sort of emotion in him, telling him that she really wouldn't care if he were to finally pick up that bag and leave. It made his decision easier, though. Knowing that his parents probably wouldn't go looking for him, knowing that life here could continue as if he never existed. Surely, even that portrait of him of the family tree would be scorched so as to serve a reminder that he would no longer be considered one of them, as if he were never born. He would, for all intents and purposes, be removed from the hearts and minds of his parents, his family members. He could only hope Regulus would go along with it, that he truly would let himself forget that he ever had an older brother. All Sirius had ever done was cause him grief. He deserved more than that, and Sirius didn't deserve anything more than being forgotten. As far as his family went, anyway. Luckily for him, he didn't look to his family's opinion of him to find his significance. He knew what they thought of him, why they thought that way, but that didn't mean it was right. So, he never let it get to his head.
Pushing himself onto his feet, the wizard cleaned the mess of his room before looking through his duffel bag, ensuring he had everything he needed. He wasn't leaving just yet, he had to find a way to say goodbye to his little brother first. Without actually saying goodbye. He also needed to make Regulus hate him, just a little. It would make it easier on the boy if he didn't feel such a strong attachment to Sirius, make it easier for him to forget about him, to deal with his absence. If nothing else, it would at least keep him away for the next two years, until the eldest finished his schooling.
Sirius determinedly told himself that he would leave sometime in the next few days. He was ready, now, and James had already made the arrangements with his parents. He just needed to wait until the right moment.
However, it wasn't reason enough for him to stay forever. When he'd come home that day from the shopping center--hoping to go straight up to his room and spend the rest of his day sleeping so as to avoid his parents and that repulsive little house elf who went by the, startlingly accurate, name of Kreacher--he was, instead, met with the accusing, spiteful eyes of the head of this Black household--Walburga Black. As soon as he stepped foot through the door, she went off firing her questions and assumptions, telling him what a disgrace he was to the family, telling him that he was a blood-traitor, telling him how grateful he should be that they hadn't thrown him on the streets the moment he returned wearing the red-and-gold colors which symbolized his betrayal to the Black family name. He wasn't entirely sure what had set her off this time, but the woman had a habit of taking any and all frustrations out on her eldest son, so he chose not to question her reasoning. Instead, he strode past her, not without experiencing a stinging slap to his cheek first, and went up the stairs to his room, slamming the door behind him and turning the lock.
Now, after having thrown the majority of supplies that once resided on his desk to the floor and making a dent in the wooden dresser that had been emptied just the other day, the young wizard sat at the edge of his bed, hands covering his head as he attempted to calm himself with deep breaths. It would always happen this way; he would get angry, break a few things or yell at the source of his anger, before sitting down to quell that fury and mending the things he'd broken. Usually, he would also go up to his mother or father, whoever was the cause of his outburst, and apologize to them for things he wasn't even responsible for. More often than not, it seemed he was merely apologizing for who he was, for his presence. As time went by, though, he was doing that less often. Just letting the problems fester and letting his parents hate him even more by not giving them a proper apology. Even when they'd come and demand one from him, he would remain silent, letting them throw whatever they could at him before they would, eventually, leave him to his thoughts.
This time, he'd waited a few hours for his mother to come yelling through his door, banging on the wood before storming off, but she never came. And surely, at such a late hour, she'd already gone off to bed. He was grateful for that, grateful that he didn't have to deal with her any more today, but it also hurt him. Recently, it seemed that she wasn't even trying to punish him anymore, like she wasn't interested in fixing his attitude. Normally, he'd be delighted at the thought, but it evoked a different sort of emotion in him, telling him that she really wouldn't care if he were to finally pick up that bag and leave. It made his decision easier, though. Knowing that his parents probably wouldn't go looking for him, knowing that life here could continue as if he never existed. Surely, even that portrait of him of the family tree would be scorched so as to serve a reminder that he would no longer be considered one of them, as if he were never born. He would, for all intents and purposes, be removed from the hearts and minds of his parents, his family members. He could only hope Regulus would go along with it, that he truly would let himself forget that he ever had an older brother. All Sirius had ever done was cause him grief. He deserved more than that, and Sirius didn't deserve anything more than being forgotten. As far as his family went, anyway. Luckily for him, he didn't look to his family's opinion of him to find his significance. He knew what they thought of him, why they thought that way, but that didn't mean it was right. So, he never let it get to his head.
Pushing himself onto his feet, the wizard cleaned the mess of his room before looking through his duffel bag, ensuring he had everything he needed. He wasn't leaving just yet, he had to find a way to say goodbye to his little brother first. Without actually saying goodbye. He also needed to make Regulus hate him, just a little. It would make it easier on the boy if he didn't feel such a strong attachment to Sirius, make it easier for him to forget about him, to deal with his absence. If nothing else, it would at least keep him away for the next two years, until the eldest finished his schooling.
Sirius determinedly told himself that he would leave sometime in the next few days. He was ready, now, and James had already made the arrangements with his parents. He just needed to wait until the right moment.