#(while Knock Out has remained relatively safe from such treatment) (fingers crossed)

[magic-ace]

Knock Out Transformers 🤝 Paintbrush Inanimate Insanity

Targeted by mischaracterization from their respective fandoms in order to make their behavior more "palatable" and "cute" (while, additionally, buying into queerphobic stereotypes)

[m-oana-archive]

Heartsease: A Wolfstar fanfiction

Part Four: “So Help Me God”

read part one  two  three 

Warning: This chapter contains rather constant, semi-graphic descriptions of physical and verbal abuse towards LGBTQ+ characters. If you are an individual that identifies as LGBTQ and would feel triggered, someone who has a past with abuse, or someone who is generally discomforted by reading stories of abuse, I highly suggest skipping this chapter. Because this is entirely composed of Sirius' flashbacks, you will not miss any plot. However, I will summarize a few important points at the end of chapter that may come back in later chapters.

POV: Sirius | Words: 6108 | Beta: @inflictionofopinions | read on AO3

To be raised in the most noble and sacred house of Black was to enter the world thinking it was some kind of battlefield. At least, that’s how Sirius experienced it, being reprimanded for his horrible posture since age three without fail, never being able to talk out of turn or without a tone of calm distance if he didn’t want to get beaten for it later, having his parents’ explicit threats scare away all of his friends if they were not from sacred, pureblood families. But nothing, no amount of abuse, physical or verbal, could extinguish the fiery gleam in Sirius’ chest, the unquenchable urge to undermine his parents at every turn. If anything, their treatment just continued feeding flames to the fire.

It was obvious why Regulus was their favorite. “Sirius, would your brother do that?” “Sirius, even your brother knows better than you, and he is two years younger.” “Be more like Regulus.” If Sirius got a Galleon every time his parents said that to him, he would have made more than double the money than he inherited from the infamous Black wealth. But what they didn’t see was the brother that snuck into Sirius’ bedroom late at night after his skin was assaulted with belts, brought him tissues and tea and food and would lay in Sirius’ bed with him until the sun rose then move back into his bedroom as to not get caught. That was the difference: the exposure. Regulus was as imperfect as Sirius but wasn’t even a fraction as obvious about it. So, although there were small alleviations, Sirius remained, for the greater part of his childhood, utterly alone.

To attempt to fill this void, Sirius began sneaking around Grimmauld Place once the sun set, trying to find something to distract him. He stumbled upon his father’s study, a room he was not allowed in unless invited, and found himself face to face with a bookshelf that spanned the entirety of the wall. He skimmed his hands against the bindings of the books, feeling their rigid spines and the indents of the titles on hardcovers, considering each carefully. But he kept finding titles like, “Philosophy of Blood Status,” or “A History of Giant Wars, volume 2,” which either bored him or disgusted him to no end. He wanted a story, something with peaks and plots and characters and distant worlds, something that could transport him from his life into another.

The next day at breakfast, Sirius asked his father in the polite manner he only used when he wanted something, “Sir, can we go to the bookstore in town today? I would like to purchase some books.”

“I have an extensive collection in my study, Sirius,” his father responded without looking up from his plate. “I’m sure we have no need to go buy more books. There should be something of your liking there.”

“I looked last night and didn’t see anything,” Sirius responded casually. He felt his family’s faces on them, knew without looking there were two expressions of disgust and one of fear staring at his face, which fought back a proud smirk.

His father pounded his fists on their mahogany table, and Sirius stared at his cup of tea as large ripples ran through it, almost spilling over, but not quite. “Sirius, how many times do I have to remind you the rules of this household? I know you know them, but you continue to break them and tell us about it. We should just lock you in your room and shove a plate or two of burnt food underneath your door until you learn your lesson.”

Sirius was about to make some crude remark, something like, “I’d probably like that better, since I wouldn’t have to see your faces everyday,” but Regulus spoke first, spoke first with that same silky tone of pureblood placation that made his blood boil.

“It was my fault, Sir. Sirius came into my bedroom unable to sleep, and I suggested he find something to read in order to help him along. I am so sorry.”

And of course they bought it, Orion patting Regulus on the back and congratulating him on being the best example of good behavior, even though he admitted to inspiring the action Sirius was reprimanded for just seconds beforehand, while Walburga got up and offered him a fresh cup of tea. Sirius wanted to scream, scream at his father for his favoritism and contradictions, his mother for going along with it thoughtlessly, his brother for being able to sleep soundly knowing his heart was in the right place without having to live in a horror story for it. Even Regulus offering to walk with Sirius to the bookstore “to make sure he doesn’t go out of hand” and Orion agreeing was not enough to cap Sirius’ rage.

“You know that if I didn’t do it, you wouldn’t be able to go,” Regulus mentioned once they were a safe distance away from Grimmauld Place, the foggy skies of England high overhead.

Sirius was reluctant to look at his brother as he responded. “That doesn’t mean it’s fair, that just means it’s helpful.”

They did not speak to one another for the rest of the way there, the first sound after Sirius’ response being the small bell that rang as Sirius opened the door into the bookshop. He smiled at the worker behind the counter who greeted the pair of them, before going straight to the romance novels.

“Sirius, are you kidding?” Regulus asked. “Dad will never allow you to step across the threshold of our house if you bought these.” But nothing could stop Sirius from grabbing a book titled Madame Bovary before heading to the section titled “American Classics” and selecting two from there, all whilst listening to Regulus’ pleads that he reconsider.

“I know dad won’t like this,” Sirius admitted after paying for the books. “That’s why you’ve got to help me.”

When they returned home, Sirius took off his jumper before walking through the door, wrapping his books around it to disguise their presence. He winked at Regulus and entered to the booming voice of his father, demanding to see what Sirius had purchased.

“Nothing, actually, Sir,” Sirius responded as he and Regulus stood in their sitting room and Orion sat, cross-legged, on a black armchair with his glasses sliding down his nose. “All those Muggle books aren’t nearly intellectual enough. I think I should reconsider your books, father.”

Sirius swore his father almost choked in shock at Sirius’ words. But he never asked Regulus for affirmation on the verity of Sirius’ statement before responding, with more excitement than Sirius ever heard in his nine years of life, “I would be glad to, Sirius. Come along, then.”

“Could I– Sir, could I put my jumper in my room first?” Sirius asked with the most charismatic smile he could muster. He was really giving his all into this performance, even “forgetting” to call his father his formal title in order to make it seem as if he cared that he forgot, all the while slipping his finger in between the soft fabric of his jumper to feel the edges of pages, reminding himself of what this all was for. Orion graciously allowed him to leave and as Sirius did so, he swore he heard his father mention how well Regulus was doing with Sirius.

After hiding his books deep into his closet, behind suits he only wore when some distant relative died, Sirius accompanied an optimistic Orion to his study, selecting three books of similar sizes to the ones he purchased to read. He made some lie about needing to go up to his room in order to properly focus on the material and had to restrict himself from running up the stairway. Sirius collected the books he had purchased, taking their cover slips off and replacing them with the ones from Orion’s books. He put his new books on his nightstand, the old ones into the closet hiding space, and opened up the first pages of Madame Bovary, into a world that would change his.

Sirius almost forgot to eat a meal, he was so engrossed in the book. Usually, such lateness would warrant half of his serving being scraped off so Sirius had to go to sleep hungry whilst knowing how good the food he could have had tasted, but after he explained why he was late, Orion only smiled. The dinner was filled with artificial smiles and even more artificial conversation. Sirius returned to the book after, finding himself utterly fascinated with the character of Charles. He seemed sweet and loving, albeit being clumsy and awkward, and Sirius knew he was tall and handsome. This caused an insurmountable reaction of rage when the author decided to switch the perspective of the book, going from Charles to Emma. But Sirius never considered it as a crush, per se, until three days later when Emma cheats on Charles, and Sirius throws the book across his room. “I would never cheat on Charles,” Sirius said to himself gruffly, a pout on his face and arms crossed over his chest.

Sirius expected the knock on his bedroom door to be one of his parents wondering what that noise was, but instead, he found a smiling Walburga, reminding him that they were hosting a dinner party in a few hours and that it was time for Sirius to begin getting ready. So he put on his funeral suit haphazardly, ran a brush through his hair, and went back to reading.

The guests were as stuffy and pompous as his parents, everyone talking in that same smooth tone, only to be interrupted by dry yet honest laughter. Honest laughter except for Sirius, who acted the part perfectly, aching to begin eating in order to make an excuse to leave and continue reading. Until, three people entered, obviously two parents and their son, and Sirius nearly collapsed when the boy with slicked-back brown hair and a tall build introduced himself as Charles.

They spent the evening together, laughing actual laughter in the corner of the sitting room while impersonating the party’s guests. Sirius felt his chest flutter when Charles’ hand accidentally brushed part of Sirius’ or when he leaned in to whisper something derogatory about a guest in Sirius’ ear. When he left Sirius was deliriously happy, finally finding someone that understood him that his family would approve of, finally having a friend, a friend that could turn into something more. But Orion smashed his dream without even knowing what it was.

“You cannot associate with that Charles boy anymore, Sirius,” Orion demanded the next day. “And we must stop inviting that family to our parties, Walburga. Apparently he is a homosexual. Can you imagine? How did a pureblood family with traditions and customs knowingly raise a homosexual without trying to do anything to stop it. It’s really laughable, truly.” So he proceeded to laugh, spurring Walburga’s laughter, spurring Regulus’, spurring Sirius to ask a question.

“What does being gay have to do with being a pureblood? He still meets the main requirement.” Sirius spoke carefully, in that tone he loathed but depended on, not wanting to have his room searched and his books burnt in the grand fireplace.

When Orion responded, it wasn’t with anger, but with a tone of a teacher educating Sirius on what is right. “Because gay men aren’t pure, Sirius,” he informed. “So they musn’t be pureblood.” Orion turned his head to Walburga. “Take them off the list, please. I don’t want us forgetting.”

So the parties rolled around, and Sirius found good company and real laughter with a few girls, a few boys, and sometimes no one, depending on the guest list. But he always found himself staring at the door, hoping for Charles’ return not primarily due to missing him dearly, but in order to make sure he isn't receiving the kind of treatment Sirius used to. Sometimes he faked illness to go and reread Madame Bovary, underlining passages he liked, both for their beauty and in wishing it was the life he got to live. One with someone like Charles, both the real and fictional one, where he got to ride on horse-pulled carriages while being kissed.

He continued the stream of buying books and switching out the covers, doing whatever necessary to tiptoe around intellectual discussions with Orion, who still believed his son was making a considerable dent in his study’s bookshelf. Sirius fell in love so many times during his year before Hogwarts he couldn’t keep count, between the princesses and knights, noblewomen and men, wives and husbands. But, too afraid to lose his books and certain that he was quite possibly romanticizing these characters, he never said anything, just quietly defied comments his father or mother made in discreet politeness.

It wasn’t until his trip to Hogsmeade for school supplies that he knew, for a fact, he was not romanticizing, that he “not pureblood” gay purebloods. Because, while staring into Honeydukes’ window, among the rows of pastel sweets his stomach craved, Sirius noticed a wiry boy with a crooked smile and short yet messy hair. He looked about Sirius’ age, and Sirius prayed he was so they would meet at Hogwarts, because his father would not allow him to speak to strangers while out. Sirius’ heart beat deeply and loudly all during the afternoon, constantly looking around him in hopes of seeing that boy again.

It was at dinner that Sirius said it. He had eaten so they couldn’t take his food away from him, and eaten a lot in case they decided to use that usual punishment of food deprivation for a few days, alongside being beat, of course. Sirius didn’t know that people could speak while not breathing, but that’s what it felt like when he came out.

“I have something to tell you,” he said to his family, all looking at him with a concern he wished he could have unconditionally, instead of conditionally. “I… I like girls and boys. Romantically.”

Sirius almost wished the reaction was different, the reaction of full-bodied laughter by all three of them that shook the table and the plates and the cups of tea. Orion wiped tears out of his eyes. “What a jokester, my son!” he wailed between beats of laughter. But when their laughter died down and Sirius’ never began, a tangible shift of energy occurred into the room. Anger set in, hot and loud and terrifying, but Sirius didn’t flinch.

“My own son?” Orion asked, quizzically at first, but then seizing the front of Sirius’ button down shirt over the table. He looked so deeply into Sirius’ eyes, Sirius felt violated. “Tell me the truth! You know you’re lying! No son of mine is a homosexual!” Orion shook Sirius wildly, but Sirius did not respond, causing his father to push him back into his chair, which toppled over so Sirius landed on his back on the dark hardwood floor.

In a flash, Orion was standing above Sirius, his dress-shoe clad foot pressing into his son’s chest. “Walburga, search his room. I want it stripped clean of anything homosexual. Any bright colors that could be part of that rainbow thing. Any letters if he was secretly corresponding with Charles.” She leapt into action, her lips pressed together in distaste, but following through nonetheless. “Regulus, if I could have your belt. I want this to be a lesson to you, too, my son, my better son, on how to stay good, how to live by pureblood rules and integrity.” Regulus, face also scrunched, obviously hating every minute of it, still followed through, unbuckling his belt, slipping it off, handing it to his father and watching his brother writhe about the floor while the leather ripped apart his skin.

“I found something!” Walburga yelled, running through the kitchen in a manner that was not Black family standard at all. “Your books, Orion. He replaced the covers to them and put them on his own. Look.”

Orion stood up, leaving his son’s bruised and heaving body on the ground, to look at the novels that Walburga put on the table. “Madame Bovary. The Scarlet Letter. Emma. Jane Eyre. Not only are these Muggle books, but they’re romances! I cannot believe you could read this, defile your mind with such useless and feminine text.” A silence broke up his rant, all but Sirius’ heavy breathing falling silent. “Walburga, start a fire.”

And they were burnt. They were burnt into ashes, words that comforted him, worlds that saved him, characters who he loved, all scorched into black dust. Sirius didn’t cry, but he wanted to. He wanted to jump into the fire and save them, not caring that his raw skin would get horribly scorched. But Orion had him tied to the sitting chair, so he was helpless at the clutches of his evil father, useless mother, and condescending brother.

“Walburga, bring him up to his room,” Orion said. “There’s one book left, that Bovary one, but I can tell he loved it. He underlined parts. I don’t want him to see it burnt. He doesn’t deserve to be able to see it get turned to dust. But know, the second you leave, Sirius, it will go in the fireplace, never to be seen again.”

“I hate you!” Sirius screamed, aggressively thrashing in his chair, trying to break the ropes that tied him to the wooden chair. “I hate you! All of you!” He kept fighting, even though he knew it was useless, hating the grin it lit up on his father’s cheeks, the tears it spilled onto his. So Walburga requested Regulus’ help to move Sirius, grabbing him by his arms and legs while Orion removed the confines. They dragged Sirius up to his room, sobbing and thrashing even still, threw him on the ground of his bedroom, and locked the door behind them.

“Reg, I don’t want you hanging out with your brother anymore,” Walburga said, outside of Sirius’ door, loudly enough so he could hear it. “I don’t know if this is infectious if he’ll try and make you gay. But you have to be cautious, alright? So you are forbidden to interact with him unless your father or I can oversee it.”

Sirius had never been lonelier in his life. He did not only count down the days until Hogwarts, but the hours, the minutes. He ripped his wallpaper to shreds and broke the plates that his burnt half-servings of food came on. When the day finally came, his hopeful heart returning as the Hogwarts Express pulled up onto Platform 9 and ¾ , he did not say goodbye to his parents and made a point to ensure the two boys he sat within the train car were not pureblood wizards. Their names were Remus and James, and Sirius swore he had seen Remus before.

He walked to the Sorting with them, Remus’ sly comments and James’ horrible jokes healing his heavy heart, lifting it, making it soar. When it was his turn, the hat chuckled while being placed on his head. “You’re a Black, I see. A pure Slytherin family through and through. But– oh, I see you don’t want that fate?”

“I want Gryffindor,” he said, looking at a smiling Remus and James as they sat at that table. “To get a rise out of them.”

“Well you’re braver than anyone I’ve seen,” the hat complimented before screaming out Gryffindor, causing the table to erupt in claps, and James and Remus to shout happily. Sirius was almost unphased by the Howler that arrived the next morning at breakfast, his father’s voice shouting at him for defying his family, yet again, and so soon after coming out as a homosexual.

The entire room fell silent, so silent Sirius thought the gulp of his throat could be heard by the Ravenclaws that sat so far away from him. But Sirius had an idea, so he stood up, got on the bench, then stepped onto the table. “It’s not true,” Sirius announced to his schoolmates. “I’m bi, actually.” He smiled at the students, whose mouths were all agape.

It was James who broke the silence, hooting, and hollering, which Remus joined in on, which the entire Gryffindor table joined in on. Soon Sirius couldn’t see a face that wasn’t supporting him– of course, he denied looking at the Slytherin table– and continued his breakfast with a smile on his face after patting James’ back appreciatively.

To be bi in the most accepting school of wizardry was freeing. Sirius finally was able to exhale a breath he did not realize he had been holding, ask boys out alongside girls, flirt with both. James was his designated wingman, which Sirius reciprocated by putting in a kind word about James to a spunky, redheaded Gryffindor named Lily, whose annoyed but bashful reaction made Sirius instantaneously like her. But Remus, who Sirius constantly found himself staring at, was not as brazen about his love life. Even though he said all the right things, read all the best books, and had the most infectious smile, he never seemed to have a girlfriend. Sirius urged him to ask people out, but, somewhere deep within his heart, was grateful Remus never went through with the requests.

Summers were the worst. Sirius decided to grow his hair out when he got to Hogwarts, and every summer it had gotten so far along in the process, but every summer, his mother cut it despite his pleads not to. He barely got fed, his door was always locked and his window got a lovely addition of a wrought-iron fencing, in order to restrain him from sneaking out. When Walburga got notice that the Potter’s were happy to let Sirius live with them, Orion applied an invisibility serum to Sirius’ scars, unable to let them show, so there was no concrete proof Sirius should live somewhere else. Sirius would count the days, minutes, and hours until he got back to Hogwarts. And, when the train arrived, he would never say goodbye to his parents before seeking out his best friends’ company.

But the summer before fourth year, that summer required an entirely new word to be created to describe the mixing of emotions, the heavenly highs and hellish lows. Sirius had asked out a classmate named Riley at the beginning of third year, Riley who was gorgeous and funny and smart and liked to wear both jeans and chucks and flannels with a binder on some days and dresses with heels on others. That didn’t stop Sirius from becoming entranced. During the walks to Hogsmeade, picnics at Black Lake, long Common Room cuddle sessions, Riley was able to teach Sirius about so much more than he ever knew, growing up in a pureblood household. Riley explained what being genderfluid meant, and helped Sirius along the way in the spectrums of both sexuality and gender. After Riley first spoke the word gender fluid, in the long conversation that followed, Sirius realized the label pansexual fit him better. Being able to talk to Riley made Sirius feel so free like he was living as opposed to going through motions assigned to him since birth. And he constantly thanked Riley for it, with hands running through their short hair or snacking in between their fingertips.

So Riley didn’t understand why Sirius wouldn’t invite them over for the summer, even though both of them spent the months before daydreaming about walking around London together, falling asleep in the same bed, making one another breakfast in the morning. But Sirius’ heart closed up quickly after those perfect pictures were painted. If he was barely allowed food, how would his family treat his genderfluid significant other? With the vaguest of explanations, Sirius pleaded Riley to stay as far away from Grimmauld Place as possible.

So, when Riley showed up on their doorstep a few days into summer, Sirius wanted to scream.

“Riley, what are you doing here?” he said, trying to keep his voice down, while his hand ran through his hair. “You have to go before they see you. Please leave. Now.”

Riley pushed back against Sirius’ grip on their shoulders, Converse skidding across hot summer pavement. “I don’t care if they disapprove of me, Sirius. I want to be with you.”

“It’s not… it’s not just about disapproval, Riley. Listen, I’ve never told you this, but my father belted me when I came out. He belted me and all my mother and Regulus did was stand and let him. And… and…” Sirius had to take a deep breath before continuing, “I can’t let you into that household knowing what that man was able to do to me, his own son, because God only knows what he would do to you. I’m sorry, Riley. I’m so sorry.”

Sirius’ head hung down. He felt deflated and pathetic, wanting to live up to the brave Gryffindor standards his father resented him for having, but finding himself unable to. This wasn’t his body, his skin, his welfare he was putting at risk for blood and bruises. This was Riley’s. So he fell into their grip on Sirius, sniffling tears away while feeling the soft press of lips on his forehead.

“I wish I could take you with me,” Riley said. “I know you can’t write me. So please, just promise me you’ll be as safe as possible. And then I’ll be on my way, I guess.”

So Sirius did what he was asked and Riley did what they had promised, leaving Sirius to enter 12 Grimmauld Place alone and withering to the floor. He wished he could bask in the beauty of it, the fact that for the first time in his life he was wanted by someone else for being who he was, not what someone wanted, but rather found the reciprocation frustrating, unable to act on it fully. His negativity was obvious as he entered the living room with his head still down. This contrasted greatly with the energy bursting out of Orion’s pores.

“My boy! You’ve done it!” he yelled, shaking Sirius by the shoulder, right where Riley had touched. The thought danced upon Sirius’ thoughts, making him shudder. His father had no right to touch him in the same places as Riley, being that it was his homophobia that pushed them away from one another. Sirius struggled to get out of Orion’s grasp but was unsuccessful. “You’ve done it!” he kept yelling, far too loudly for how close he was to Sirius’ ear. In exasperation, Sirius almost asked Orion what he had finally done, but Orion beat him to it. “You’ve found a girl to date! Walburga, get the wine! It was a phase after all! He’s healed!”

Suddenly, he no longer struggled. Sirius escaped his father’s grip within seconds. He backed up to where the entryway met with the living room, distancing himself from his father.

“What’s wrong, Sirius?” Orion asked, smile still brightening up his features in a way Sirius had never seen. “This is a cause for celebration! You’ve been saved!”

Walburga entered with two glasses of wine, both of which were handed off to Orion, who approached Sirius, outstretching a glass to him. Sirius took one look at the delicate crystal before knocking it over with his hand. It broke into a thousand jagged islands amongst a vast purple sea. “I don’t want your fucking wine,” Sirius spat. “And Riley isn’t just a girl. Sometimes, Riley chooses to dress up and act more masculinely. Riley doesn’t go by she, but goes by they. And I find them absolutely fascinating and beautiful regardless.”

Sirius was expecting shouting or that chillingly quiet version of anger. Sirius was expecting large hand gestures and to be thrown to the ground. What Sirius didn’t expect was the laughter that followed as Orion’s response. “I can’t believe that you could bring home someone that’s more of a freak than you!” Orion shouted. “You should get some kind of reward for herding freakshows. You’re either a man or a woman. And if you’re a man, you love women, and if you’re a woman, you love men. It’s so simple.”

“Do you know why your world is so simple? Do you?” A combination of anger and sudden courage caused Sirius to lunge forwards, inching his face close to his father’s one, which smirked at Sirius in question. “It’s because you’re so closed-minded, it would be impossible for anything to be complex. Your mind would probably explode if you were gay because you wouldn’t be able to handle how complicated parts of it is.”

“No, Sirius,” Orion whispered. “My mind explode if I was gay because my father would hit me to the floor until I realized I was being a fool, which is exactly what I intend to do with you. Because, as long as you live under the roof of a Black House, you follow the rules of pureblood integrity and tradition, and if you do not, you feel the repercussions.”

And so Sirius’ ribs contracted at the feeling of Orion’s fist, his knees buckled, leading him cheek-first onto the hardwood floor. Sirius’ eyes opened minutes after, face level to the pool of wine and glass. The first thing he felt wasn’t the ache in his stomach, but a harsh and ceaseless stinging from his cheek, whose blood was intermixing with the pool of wine. Sirius watched as the two reds swirled together, unable to do much else, his body positively winded from the blow. He tried to move his cheek out of the glass, but something heavy dropped on his head, making him unable to move. A piercing cry left his throat as the glass lodged deeper and deeper into his skin.

“You know, Sirius, I always wondered from when you were young what your greatest failure would be. No matter what your mother or I did, you never grew out of your need to spite us. But this is a new low, son.” Orion physically punctuated the end of his sentence by releasing his foot off of Sirius, just to kick him with it moments later.

Without a word, Orion left his son, his oldest son, the one whose middle name was his first, bleeding and whimpering against panels of wood that covered the most ancient and most noble house of Black. It took an hour for Sirius to find the strength to set himself on his knees, one hand on the wall and the other on his bloodied cheek. In time he stood, legs wobbly but heart steady, and made his way through the darkness of his home for the last time. Because if he would feel the repercussions for as long as he lived under a Black house’s roof, then he was leaving as soon as possible.

After he drug his trunk along the long hallway of Grimmauld Place and had a hand on the doorknob, a voice whispered Sirius’ name. One that made Sirius heart snap and remember all of those nights in his bedroom where food and water and company was brought to him.

“Siri, where are you going?” Regulus asked, voice exposing he was on the brink of tears, and Sirius would be lying if he said he was in any other condition. But Sirius still moved away from the faint light at the tip of the candle Regulus held.

“James’, probably.” Sirius saw his brother’s face fall. “Please, Regulus. You heard what he said. I know you were in the kitchen, being a good boy, listening. I’ll be safer if I leave.”

“But Sirius!” He felt his brother’s hands trying to find a robe or jacket or scarf to hold onto. Sirius contorted his body so Regulus would miss every time.

Sirius scoffed, staring down at his little brother. “If you wanted to help me, you could have. But I’m leaving now, because the Potters will actually take care of me, and I will never cross the threshold of this house again, so help me God.”

The candlelight was dim, it didn’t show much, but Sirius could see the vague shapes of tears falling down Regulus’ face. In a moment of weakness, Sirius felt his hand twitch, felt it beg him to at least touch his younger brother’s shoulder or hug him or wipe away a tear. But why should Sirius clean Regulus’ cheeks when he did nothing to help prevent the blood from dripping from Sirius’? So he opened the door to a starry sky.

“I’ll see you at school, Reg.”

Sirius arrived at the Potter’s, suitcase full and eyes heavy, via Knightbus early the next morning. James was the first to greet him, running outside and capturing Sirius’ face in his hands. “What did they do to you?” he mumbled, tears filling his eyes, before hugging Sirius so tightly. “Don’t worry. We’ve had a spare bedroom ready for years.” It was the first summer Sirius didn’t need to count down the days, hours, and minutes until Hogwarts. When the train came, he didn’t say goodbye to his parents, but hugged the Potters tightly, promising to write as often as possible.

Riley found him on the train, hands filled with letters and eyes filled with shock. “You wrote,” they said. Sirius just nodded and smiled, offering them the empty spot in the train car.

Riley was ecstatic about the move, spending the train to Hogwarts with the boys, helping James and Sirius plan out how they would decorate their shared bedroom while Remus made perfectly-timed witty comments without raising his head out of his book. Even with his hand on Riley's, fingers twisting in and around one another, Sirius couldn’t help admiring Remus from across the train car. He had grown considerably, both in height and in muscle, his thin frame filling out in an obnoxiously attractive way. His hair had gotten longer, too, just long enough that a few curls were forming at the top of it, and Sirius had to restrict himself from touching it.

Those inclinations kept happening throughout the first weeks of Hogwarts, and although Sirius only indulged in a few of them, like cuddling with Remus after particularly straining full-moons or fluffing his hair, Riley took a notice of the affection in how he interacted with Remus, and how that lacked between him and Riley.

“Sirius, I know you and Remus and James have been best friends forever and are touchy and I’m fine with that,” they told Sirius one night when the common room was empty except for the two of them. “I’m just wondering why, if you’re dating me, you touch Remus more often.”

Sirius felt like someone just shoved him down a flight of stairs. His response was said as if something similar had knocked the air out of him, “Are you accusing me of liking him more than you?”

“Well, if so, I won’t be mad. I just want you to tell me. Because I want to respect your feelings. And if you’re finding yourself more attracted to Remus than me, I understand. I just don’t want to be played around with.”

Even though the fireplace was barely burning, Sirius suddenly felt very hot, feverishly so, like he was going to explode into lava and burn everything around him. He sat for a long time with a patient Riley, never asking him to speak before Sirius was ready to, considering how it felt like sitting with them, and comparing that to the concept of sitting here with Remus instead, possibly laying his head into Remus’ chest, playing with those godforsaken curls, feeling Remus’ widening chest and strong heart beating underneath his fingertips. And when Sirius’ began pounding at the thought, he knew Riley was right.

Though the breakup was as amicable as they come, followed by a warm friendship that was never awkward, even when they were left alone, Sirius still felt absolutely fucked. Because he was constantly dying to be underneath Remus’ touch, his lips, to be sitting next to Remus and feel his body breathe. He had to fight back a blush when Remus touched him accidentally, or when he just woke up and his voice was deeper than usual. And Sirius hid it. But he was fucked. He was so fucked. Because Remus was straight, so nothing could ever happen between them. But Sirius couldn’t stop dreaming about some hypothetical universe in which Remus loved him back, but it was useless, utterly useless. Because Remus was straight. Right?

⬥  ⬥  ⬥  ⬥  ⬥  ⬥  ⬥  ⬥

notes: important things *CONTAINS SPOILERS* 1) Sirius reads Madame Bovary and wants a horse-drawn carriage date 2) Sirius dates a genderfluid Gryffindor named Riley who helps him discover his sexual identity as pan 3) Sirius runs away and moves in with the Potters in the summer before year four 4) Riley and Sirius break up a few weeks into their fourth year, but remain friends

⬥  ⬥  ⬥  ⬥  ⬥  ⬥  ⬥  ⬥

KEEP READING: Part Five: “I Wish” 

⬥  ⬥  ⬥  ⬥  ⬥  ⬥  ⬥  ⬥

Taglist (let me know if you want to be added): @siriuslyimmoony @who-cares-unknown @astertist @cinnamonrollswithmoony @boring-viola @the-apple-princess