This is a very
tentative WIP. A friend of mine and I started it a couple years ago and I just regained some interest. I'll see if it goes anywhere.
Very short chapter, I know. But I had to get this introductory stuff out of the way. Later chapters are longer, I promise.
Also, my Sirius in this story is pretty out of character.
Disclaimer: Not mine. Well, plot is. Setting/Sirius/Everything else isn't.
Image by .bewithyou @ TDA
"Sometimes we put up walls. Not to keep people out, but to see who cares enough to knock them down."
He sipped at the red wine in his crystal goblet and allowed his eyes to drift from his father, who was addressing him, along with a crowd of other guests about the importance of Proposition something or other. There, a short distance away, stood his mother conversing with Madam Windsora—the head of the treasury department in the French Ministry of Magic. They kept laughing with one another—their trills high like a mockingbird—and much like the bird, nothing about their laughter seemed genuine. The sound flitted around in the air for a moment before vanishing, leaving no trace it ever existed. None at all.
Behind them stood his Great Uncle talking with his younger brother. The elderly man patted the boy on the shoulder and gave him an encouraging grin that did not quite reach his sinister eyes.
Quiet classical music played in the background as the chandelier above swayed gently back and forth as the cascade of voices rocked it in its place.
And despite the fact they all appeared normal, the same, standard—he was a wolf among a pack of dogs. It was strange, really, to be in a family, to share blood with a group of people, who did not accept who he was. Even as the boy scanned the crowd around where he was standing, he saw many children fidgeting in their fancy clothes and squirming on silk covered chairs. When they met his eye they immediately looked away, having heard of his deceit from their parents. No, no one defies Salazar Slytherin without paying the price.
All the looks he received said the same thing: You do not belong here.
And maybe he didn’t, but what was there he could do about it? He caught his mother looking over at him. The edges of her mouth turned downward slightly and she looked back to her companion without any sort of acknowledgement.
It hurt to be left out dry, it really did. As he grew up, he loved his parents. And to have them disregard him, ignore him, disapprove of him, burned and throbbed beneath his skin like a searing fire. He could not help that the way he thought was so contrastingly different from his family.
They would come to terms with each other eventually. He was sure. You can’t hate someone your whole life. He would just have to ride this out and wait for that time to come.
That was one year ago. Now he was sure the barrier between himself and his family was permanently cemented. There was no chance they would ever come to reconcile again. His lighthearted idealism was something of the past.
He had run away from home. He left behind the life he led and vowed to never let it happen again. Never get so close to someone that he became vulnerable and wounded once he felt their disapproval.
He built a wall between himself and the outside world—a wall that none seemed able to penetrate. A wall in which he could observe the people around him. He wanted to forget his past and never become so susceptible to his own emotions again.
Thus, he came to be known among his peers as Pretty Boy, for many believed that his attractive appearance came to be from hours of practice. Or maybe it was because his good looks were the only thing people were able to see. It was possible, of course, that they had never looked hard enough. Or he hadn’t let them.
Either way, his name was Sirius Black, but everyone knew his as Pretty Boy.
SO corny, I know. I swear that the rest of this story is not so down in the dumps. Ha, as far as I know, at least. It's supposed to be light-hearted, I promise. The rest is actually not from Sirius's point of view, but I had to do it for the prologue.
All criticism is welcomed. Thanks for reading.