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Feels like we had matching wounds / But mine's still black and bruised / And yours is perfectly fine

Summary:

"Anger had always been with Sirius, right by his side but he had never let it out. Not when the punishments he would receive passed from simple spells to the Cruciatus, not after what he had done, Not after he had seen his baby brother, Regulus, hanging out with those slimy gits he seemed to like more than he liked even Sirius. No, his anger never came out. What did come out was a visit to his father – a letter written about whoever was bothering him, rants about his mother and Regulus. And it always ended with the ugly monster his anger was going back to his chest, sitting pretty and quiet like bloody Walburga had tried to teach him, a reassuring hand on his shoulder and a simple “you are a Black, my son. The heir. They do not deserve your anger.”

OR: a quick character study about Orion and Sirius.

Notes:

Tw: Parental Alienation, Parental abuse (mentioned), Domestic Violence, Violence.

if there are any other Tw's please warn me in the comments! this is my first work in the HP fandom!!

if I'm honest, the ending feels a little bit rushed, but I didn't know how or what to watch.

Work Text:

There is anger brewing inside Sirius's soul constantly. It starts when he is all but a kid, and his Latin tutor (a very rude Mr. Griffiths of a useless pureblood family) expresses his opinions on Sirius's own family.

Who that man had thought he was to speak ill of the Most Noble and Ancient House of Black Sirius does not know, but he had been a dutiful son for once and told his father all about it.

( The man didn't return for the next lesson – or to his home. )

And then there were all the times the antichrist that is his mother had punished him. Dark rooms filled with bloody screams and ancient objects, a mother with frowny lips and hard eyes, raised arms, and spells of a multitude of colors.

( Sirius doesn’t notice the way her dresses have more and more fabric after every punishment. Or how sometimes his father and mother will be locked in a room for hours and not one sound will come out of it. )

Or when at Hogwarts Sirius became bark and bite, sharp words fired at anyone who dared to even look wrong at his friends.

Anger had always been with Sirius, right by his side but he had never let it out. Not when the punishments he would receive passed from simple spells to the Cruciatus, not after what he had done, Not after he had seen his baby brother, Regulus, hanging out with those slimy gits he seemed to like more than he liked even Sirius. No, his anger never came out. What did come out was a visit to his father – a letter written about whoever was bothering him, rants about his mother and Regulus. And it always ended with the ugly monster his anger was going back to his chest, sitting pretty and quiet like bloody Walburga had tried to teach him, a reassuring hand on his shoulder and a simple “you are a Black, my son. The heir. They do not deserve your anger.”

For all that Sirius hated Walburga Black, with all her apathy and hard teachings (and brutal beatings), he never truly hated Orion Back. His father had been patient with him – teaching him what was expected as the future head of their house even if Sirius didn’t want to be the head, and sharing his hatred for his wife with his son. When Sirius finally understood that no, Relugus would not side with him for whatever reason (he had always been a mommy’s kid), Orion Black is the one to comfort him about the “bad younger brother” and the “diabolical mother”.

Sirius listens, even if sometimes it gives him a weird feeling.

It’s when he is sixteen that the dam breaks. The ugly monster that is his anger escapes out of his control, just barely out of his reach. If it were any other time, Sirius hands would reach forward, pick that anomaly and push it down his throat – but not today. His body hurts today, there are bruises all over it, and his head buzzes, present and guarding but also so far away that all he has is a constant ringing sound.

He flees to his room, packing in a panic everything he can, listening to the wails his mother lets downstairs and all he can think is “why is she crying? it is me that is hurt.” he moves to enter Regulus' room, but there he is. His father. Sirius feels his blood turn cold, but Orion only gives him a small nod and tells him “Leave. Leave before she comes up. Leave him here, and I will take care of him.”

And maybe Sirius is too out of his mind to notice, or maybe he doesn’t care anymore, but there is a weird tone in his father's voice that would scare him in other situations – but Sirius cannot bring himself to care, Regulus and Walburga can go to hell for all he cares.

When the summer ends, Sirius is better. He misses his brother and father, and he sometimes feels guilty about leaving Regulus behind, but he wouldn’t have accepted running away anyways.

( Would he? Now that he thinks about it, he almost never saw his father and Regulus talking, and he knows – knew Reg better than anyone. Why did he think it was a good idea? But no, father said he would take care of him, didn’t he? He will be fine. )

The first time he sees his former family is when they are at the station, just minutes before going to Hogwarts. They appear in a corner, and Sirius watches as Walburga leans down a little, and gives Regulus some sort of look he never had the chance of discovering its meaning, and Orion lands a hand on the new heir’s shoulder. Even at opposite sides of the station, Sirius can see how tight his father holds his younger child’s shoulder, knuckles almost white and he cannot help but wonder how much it must hurt, and how Regulus' face doesn't even finch. He gets distracted by Mr. and Mrs. Potter, and only sees his brother again when he is already boarding, in the same cabin as his friends. He watches as they laugh, until the blonde girl Sirius never remembers the name reaches for his brother's sleeve, lifting it up. There are blacks and blues coloring his brother's pale arm, and Sirius’ brain takes some moments to recognize them as they are – they are bruises. His little brother is hurt. Someone hurt his brother.

It is instinctive the way the monster wants to jump out of his throat and yell to everyone what his monster of a mother did to her oh-so-loved child. He turns around, words at the tip of his tongue just to see the couple already leaving. His father's hand pressed against his mother’s shoulder blades just like he did earlier with Regulus.

It takes him a second to ratiocinate what it means. For all the smartness Sirius has, his brain refuses to pick on the fact he already knows.

Orion Black was not the greatest father. For all he helped Sirius he also let his mother have her way with him… But, no. It 's not possible! His father couldn’t –

He couldn’t be –

He was. Sirius knows more than anyone that the Black family is as important to Orion Black as much as it is to Walburga Black. But he doesn’t want to accept, doesn't even want to think what that could mean.

No.

Nonononono.

“Let me live in my blindness,” he thinks desperately, “let me be ignorant, for if I know, I will not forgive myself.”

“Let me be. Let me not know.”