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Summer of 1975
Sirius Black was a fifteen year old menace that wanted nothing more than to make his mother disown him. Their summers filled with clatters and yells and spells being flung at one another. Most of the time Orion had to step in to stop them from killing one another. 'Sirius, go to your room.' was his summer mantra. Every other sentence was something along the lines of ''Sirius, apologise. Sirius, don't do that. Sirius, why are you like this? Sirius, you're giving me a migraine.''
Just when things had begun to die down considerably in the Black Household the Hogwarts letters arrived to remind everyone that their eldest son was a Gryffindor and therefore an utter disgrace to the Noble and Most Ancient House of Black. Regulus was a Slytherin and could candidate as a prefect helper to prepare him for when he became a proper prefect in his fifth year. Little arse-licker, Sirius wished to call him, but didn't as Walburga looked about ready to blow a gasket and finally cast that ever threatened cruciatus at him.
''You couldn't even be a prefect in that blasted blood traitor house of yours?'' She sneered, her voice high pitched and screechy like a record scratch. Or a chalk. Or a cat clawing on the blackboard to silence her marauding class. Ah, Minnie - Sirius remembered his favourite professor- how he missed her sweet detentions and exasperated drawls. She truly was the perfect woman. Sirius dreamily sighed.
James and Remus and Peter he wrote often. James asked him over to the Potter residence and Sirius always wrote that his parents were watching him like hawks and he couldn't leave for a second. Regulus was a little spy. He loved his brother, but the blasted prick was making it hard.
''Sirius,'' Orion began before anything could escalate between mother and son.
''Go to your room, yeah. I’m well aware of the protocol at this point, thanks!'' Sirius snarled like a dog and left to go upstairs and slump on his bed. His room was messy. Posters of scantily clad muggle women lined the walls. A record player was enchanted to play Queen. More records in their cases scattered throughout the room. Titles like the Rolling Stones, ABBA, Beatles, Led Zeppelin, The Who, and the like could be seen.
Not a day didn't go by without Sirius thinking of running away. He just hadn't the push necessary to make that final step between fantasy and real life.
Is this real life~
Or is it fantasy?
Walburga Black got it in her head to host a dinner party. It would be the bane and salvation to Sirius Black's locked down summers.
The protocol remained that all the jokes Orion was not allowed to tell his wife he was free to inflict upon guests. Regulus was to be manhandled by guests as he was the youngest and would be polite and ever present.
''You're the only proper son I have!'' She said and looked at Sirius who felt bile in his chest rise up to his throat and land between his teeth, giving him an overall rabid look to accompany his rebel lifestyle.
''Thank you, mother.'' Regulus answered and stood by his father. Scared of whatever happened when Sirius looked like death come to reap. A rabid dog willing to tear apart prey with his teeth.
''Sirius,'' Walburga Black said, proud and standing tall, ''you aren't to be yourself tonight. If anyone asks you anything you answer politely. Pretend to be a scion of this House if you refuse to be. Else I'll crucio you.''
''You know you can go to Azkaban for that.'' Sirius said. This had always been nothing more than a threat, but the older Sirius got and the less Walburga saw her eldest son as her darling first born boy, the more likely that threat could become reality.
Walburga fanned her hand dismissively. ''Let them try and cage a Black.''
Orion muttered something about inherited madness and was silenced by a powerful glare from the witch.
The night of the party came and Walburga had them all wearing their best clothes. Sirius detested these dress robes. They were silver to make the Gryffindor uncomfortable in Slytherin colours. Not to mention he preferred jeans and leather jackets which went well with his motorcycle. He kept it in his room and used it to jam the door as a way to stop his mother from entering it.
He counted down the days to being of age. The very first thing he would do would be to denounce his family and tell them all to bugger off. For now, however, Sirius contented himself with pissing them all off.
''It's a pureblood event so I want all of you to act like your blood demands it! None of this nonsense of yours, Sirius. Tonight you represent the Noble and Most Ancient House of Black. I haven't hosted anything in a long time. This is my time to shine!'' And shine she wouldn’t because Walburga wore dark black robes that took all the light out of the world.
Most of the guests in attendance had not brought along children for Sirius to sneer and bark at. Sometimes, quite literally. It unnerved his father most; that rebellious animalism within his son.
He stood at the door to greet first after his father. A majority of the pureblood aristocracy passed them all by amiably enough, thrilled to be a part of the Black lifestyle. An invitation into the Black townhouse to some was more exclusive and important than getting an invite to the Ministry Ball. Walburga Black's opinion mattered more than the bloody Minister's.
Sirius wished to gag in disgust, to run away, but found himself grounded if not by duty by his mother's threats. Her instability scared him. Seldom, but enough times to count.
Miraculously, Sirius was not the subject of his mother’s ire this evening: ''THIS IS A PUREBLOOD EVENT, ABRAXAS HYPERION MALFOY!''
Lord Malfoy had come linked arm in arm with a man that everyone in the United Kingdom knew of: Lord Voldemort.
Regulus, who was beside Sirius, tensed and asked him if he'd known they'd be hosting the Dark Lord. Sirius just looked at him as if to tell him that he had no idea what was going on in this house. Regulus conceded with a grimace that that was fair.
''WALBIE, MY TERRIBLE WIFE IS IN FRANCE! DID YOU EXPECT ME TO COME ALONE LIKE SOME SINGLE BEGGAR, STARVED FOR ATTENTION? MON MERLIN NO!'' came the illustrious peacock cry of Abraxas Malfoy.
Lord Voldemort looked particularly miffed to be in the centre of such negative attention. In his free arm he held a bottle of port which he handed to Orion post haste. Briefly, on his way inside, he made eye contact with Sirius and nodded at him. The man's eyes were crimson red.
The sight of them left Sirius petrified at the entryway. Only at his father's small push did the rebel move.
Inside the townhouse Kreacher was being soundly out of sight as he was a servant. Regulus waved at him fondly and the elf waved back discreetly. His brother was an odd one, favouring the company of elves. Yet even with such a warped sense of reality, their mother liked the elf-befriender more.
Tension grew among the guests. Animosity bubbled in Walburga. Sirius thought that that wasn't anything new. Except this time, such awful force wasn't aimed at him.
It was aimed at the Dark Lord. This surprised Sirius as he knew that Walburga Black agreed with everything the Dark Lord propagated among his followers. What was wrong?
People gravitated towards the man and asked him plenty of questions. They varied, but mostly held a political domain. Sirius was disinterested. Yet he was forced into hearing it. It dressed down the current political regime and propagated pureblood supremacy. All of the adults nodded and murmured in agreement, praising the Dark Lord's genius. Walburga Black seethed at him and had to be led away by Orion for a private talk.
''I will not host that disgusting, irreverent upstart! All of you pretend to not know who he was before his involvement in the war, but I remember! He does not deserve to even glance at my silverware let alone use it for his filthy mouth! At best he is a halfblood bastard, and at worst he is a mudblood!''
Lord Voldemort glanced in his parents' direction and had a grim line for a mouth. His eyes held in them subdued intolerance for such slander. Abraxas patted the man heartily on the back and whispered to him something about having their way later. ''When the tides turn she shall be sorry.''
Satisfied, or otherwise comforted, Lord Voldemort nodded to appease his friend. Kreacher was offering everyone drinks to drink and only Abraxas had finished his red wine. Sirius nursed his and watched the untouched drink of the Dark Lord's.
Orion and Walburga emerged and said that they could all go to the dining room.
The seating arrangement was as followed. At the head of the table Orion was seated and trying to hide his massive anxiety that came with having Walburga set on people like an attack hound. Right next to him on the left side was Regulus and across from him on the left side was Sirius.
Walburga was next to Regulus. The rest of the unimportant guests were on her side.
To show closeness and solidarity with the Dark Lord's cause Orion had placed him just after his own blood. As Walburga radiated hostility towards him Orion sat the Dark Lord down right beside Sirius. Abraxas Malfoy was already drinking glass number two and laughing at something the Selwyns were saying. He either pointedly ignored the brewing war between Walburga and the Dark Lord or he didn't care.
Thoros Nott, let it be known, was at the end of the table as his wife had divorced him and he was shamed and alone. To console himself he pretended it was the new head of the table and what an honour it was to hold his position. Regulus was the only one that laughed at his joke. Thoros toasted to the youngest Black, telling him to never forget his genuine self.
Sirius, being practically an adult, was allowed to have a drink with the adults. Regulus wasn't and Sirius pitied him. Without any influence, sitting by mother was most certainly not a kind affair. Especially because she was seated right next to the Lestranges and screeched at them about the indignation she felt about what those halfblood, mudblood, creature side of politics was doing.
''They think that my children should be equal to such vermin, Redmond!''
Redmond Lestrange, best friends with Orion, regretted ever accepting this invitation. He looked up from his soup and smiled forcefully. ''I admire their tenacity. They know that they can never hope to defeat us when we are the ones who have built wizarding Britain, yet they try earnestly. I do not agree with them, but it is adorable to watch them fight for something unattainable. I hear they're conducting experiments on werewolves, some sort of potion that will allow them to keep a clear head whilst transformed - rubbish and unnecessary, they all ought to be put down like the dogs they are.''
Sirius was reminded of Remus, a boy that stuffed his face with chocolates and always raised his arm in class. He didn't deserve to be killed. Yet everyone his parents associated thought so.
''I do not agree with you, Redmond.'' came the steady and calm trickle of reason from beside Sirius. Murmurs spread across the table. Sirius tossed to glance at the Dark Lord.
''Oh?'' Redmond asked and then added when in a safe space among like thinkers, ''My lord.''
Walburga Black scoffed and shovelled soup into her mouth if not allowed wine.
''Each of these unfortunate creatures deserves to feel of use. Kill the muggle turned werewolves, certainly. But magical blood, even tainted like that, has its uses. Out of anger and retribution many werewolves attack pureblood witches and wizards. Diplomacy is in order here.''
Abraxas guffawed. ''Diplomacy with a dog? Dog training is what is necessary here ladies and gentlemen!''
Giggles and snickers travelled across the table. Even Walburga spared a smile from her ever frowning visage. Everyone loved Abraxas Malfoy, Sirius Black knew. He was lucky to have him as his godfather and not the Crabbes as Regulus did. At least his had a high tolerance for muggle things.
The previous summer when Walburga had unloaded Sirius to be with his godfather for a week, the fourteen year old had spent most nights bemoaning his mother and all the woes she forced him to have.
''Goodness, you sound like my friend Tom when you talk about her.'' Abraxas had said with a quirked smile. He pondered over a parchment roll longer than Sirius and read it quickly, shuffling it until he got to the signature marks.
''Tom?'' Sirius wondered. That didn't sound like a pureblood name. It sounded like a common muggleborn's name, even!
''Oh yes, he went to school with your mother and I. Brought along pencils and helped me make up study plans. Ink got smudgy very easily even with spells. I was a clumsy caster in my youth. I liked to use pencils for quick note taking. When you're young you allow yourself these little interests. I told Walburga not to criticize you too hard about your muggle trinkets. It's simply a phase you'll grow out of.'' Abraxas said and then to prove a point conjured an ink and peacock feather to sign the document.
''It's not a phase.'' Sirius said deliberately.
Abraxas peeked at him over the parchment and narrowed his eyes, then. ''I hope for your sake, Sirius, that it is. You can push Walburga only so much before she decides to put you down.''
Fish replaced soup and Lord Voldemort didn't dig in as quickly as all the others did. Sirius noticed for he couldn't help but glance over to the powerful man exuding power. Yet, he was simply human. A wizard like any other. Save for those red eyes, there was nothing that made Sirius understand why everyone feared him. If he so wished he could commit atrocities against the wizarding population, too.
Abraxas beckoned for more wine. Thoros said that he wished to be equally matched. One drank for fun the other to forget his crushing divorce. Walburga said fuck it and startled Kreacher into getting her some, too.
It was only the third course.
Everyone asked questions of Regulus and cooed at him. Regulus, ever the baby of all Black children, knew how to turn this cooing in his own gain. He said some sensible things and was praised.
Lord Voldemort looked completely indifferent of the young man and Sirius was thrilled. Both for the fact that Regulus was afraid of the man sitting next to Sirius, and also because secretly the little fink wished to interact with the most powerful man in Britain.
Sirius kept feeling Voldemort glancing in his direction and finally barked out an ungrateful, quiet: ''What?''
''You're the Gryffindor, yes?'' came the expected, but bewildering question.
''Yeah.'' Sirius said and then noticed that Voldemort began to eat his fish with his hands. It was allowed, that much Sirius knew, but it was still jarring to see during a Black dinner. Walburga Black looked ready to throw the man out. Orion placated her with looks and legilimency channels.
‘’What is their Common Room like?’’
‘’Better than the Slytherin one.’’
‘’Ha.’’ Lord Voldemort snorted and went back to his fish, electing to end the conversation there.
Sirius had never felt this put aside. Rarely anyone talked to him except to comment on how he was growing up. Thoros and Abraxas were engaging in a battle of alcohol tolerance. Regulus seeped all attention. Walburga's ire wasn't aimed at him for once!
He set aside his fork and knife and just thought. A second. Two seconds.
Fuck it.
He picked apart the fish with his hands like the Dark Lord and earned even MORE rage from his mother. But due to social conduct she couldn't yell at him. After the party was over he would probably have to duel her for his life, but that was a summer tradition by this point. Sirius grinned at her pettily.
Orion said that he knew a very good joke about werewolves at that moment. He was snubbed by Walburga Black shouting atop her lungs how she knew one about HALFBLOODS! Promptly the hostess sent a glare in Lord Voldemort's direction who patted his mouth with a napkin and said that he'd be thrilled to hear one, ''Lady Black.''
Sirius had never, in his life before, heard anyone give such a backhanded address towards his mother. He looked at the Dark Lord sitting next to him and almost allowed his jaw to fall slack in shock. If anyone had told Sirius Black that he'd be sitting down next to Lord Voldemort and feeling solidarity towards him because of their mutual hatred for Walburga Black - well, Sirius would try and check that person into St. Mungo's.
Abraxas interjected right in the middle of Walburga's joke telling to say that he'd heard that lame joke quite a few times. ''Get some new material, Walbie! You've told this one a million times in school. Hasn't she?'' He turned to all of the guests and drew out reluctant laughter out of them.
To get a better sense of his surroundings, Sirius decided to drink glass number two. The red wine mixed with the rich taste of the salt water fish well. He submersed himself in the taste and enjoyed himself that night. Alcohol was a genius invention. Much better than any cheering charm.
When the new course came on Sirius felt like an idiot because his hands still reeked of fish and everyone was digging into their salads. The Dark Lord flicked his hands and they smelled of lavender. Sirius had no idea what that spell was but it was very nifty and he wished to find out.
''How'd you do that?'' Sirius asked him. He was freer with conversation after ingesting the red wine, magically boosted. Which made it superior to all muggle red wines even if they came from the same plant.
''I haven't the time to teach you now. It's intent mostly. You'll learn about it in your sixth year.'' the older man explained and grabbed Sirius' hands abruptly, using his magic to clean them. They smelled equally lavender-ish and weren't as sticky as before.
''Thanks.''
To have wands at the table was seen as a threat, so Sirius was even more impressed by the man's wandless magic. It wasn't nearly as messy as he'd seen in other adults' attempting to do anything without their precious magical conduit. He could begin to see why people would rally behind someone like the Dark Lord.
Orion, to diffuse the situation at hand because Walburga Black always needed diffusing, stood up and made a toast to purebloods all around. Those that laid down their lives for the sake of blood.
''They're spilling blood to save blood and bloody everyone knows that the most decimated portion of the population's in this war been the purebloods.'' Sirius grumbled into his drink.
Abraxas pushed Voldemort who in turn bumped legs with Sirius, causing the younger boy to become hyper aware of the handsome man next to him. He dropped his glass and the red wine became quite prominent on the white table cloth his mother had demanded be brought out.
''My apologies.'' the Dark Lord apologized to him - holy fuck - and waved a hand across the stain to vanish it. Kreacher popped by and filled Sirius' nearly empty glass with more wine.
''Control yourself, Abraxas. Alcoholism does not befit you.''
''Oh calm yourself, mon chou.'' Sirius knew enough French to raise his brows at the pet name. Them coming together made more sense, much more than Abraxas simply taking a friend along. Why hadn't he taken poor, lonesome Thoros Nott?
Speaking of whom - the man was drowning his sorrows and harassing people with tales of his charity work. People near his end of the table were polite, only because they had to be.
Sirius Black preferred sitting next to the Dark Lord. At least his mother was more entertaining and redder in the face than Gryffindor's colours.
When it was time for everyone to raise their glasses in a toast to pureblood idealism and the good values of Sacred Twenty-Eight families, Sirius vowed not to raise his hand.
His mother noticed his un-raised arm and probably wished to tell him that when these kind suck ups all left she would skin him alive. Sirius almost stuck his tongue out at her, but before he did so his hand gripped the glass and raised it against his will. A magical suggestion, a compulsion spread in the back of his mind and forced it upright while they all cheered Orion's beautifully dumb speech.
He first thought it was Walburga's doing. Then when Sirius remembered his mother didn't know how to do such delicate magic whilst angry (and angry she was most of the time) a more blood curdling realisation slammed into him.
It had been the Dark Lord that moved his limbs without permission.
Sirius didn't shoot a glare his way because he wanted to live another day. He drank hurriedly. The red wine hit him like a sledgehammer. When he turned to see Regulus, his little brother blurred.
During school Sirius had indulged in alcoholic beverages served at House Parties that professors pretended not to know about. Some folk smuggled fire whisky and Sirius thought that he'd held his own fine by drinking it. Why did drinking wine feel like it hit him harder? James would probably laugh his arse off at the sight of him blinking and drinking himself to a stupor.
After the fifth glass that night and the fourth course finished, the Dark Lord leaned out from the adult conversation he was in to order Sirius to stop drinking. It was used in a very stern, yet impassive voice. ''You're drunk, Mr. Black.''
''Oh bugger off.'' Sirius found himself saying. The older man's lips thinned and his perfectly plucked brows rose. Those intense, devouring crimson eyes speared Sirius. He nearly faltered, but refused to as he was in his own home. He didn't believe in his ideology, didn't even respect the man because he wished him dead. Them sitting together had been nothing more than coincidence. Them interacting civilly had been nothing more than social conduct expected of a Black and a guest. Their joint hatred for his mother aside - Lord Voldemort had absolutely no right or power to make Sirius do anything.
''Careful now, Mr. Black.'' came the calm reprimand. In such a simple sentence surfaced years of battle and decades of horror that Sirius knew the man would inflict upon the world were he to come out of the war victorious. ''There is no need for such crass language.''
Sirius was Walburga's son, whether he liked to accept that or not. He was raised to be the scion of the Noble and Most Ancient House of Black. It took him great pleasure to take the glass of red wine to his lips, stare the Dark Lord unapologetically, and tip it back.
Lord Voldemort did something Sirius did not expect, then. He snapped his fingers soundlessly and the wine inside the glass turned to water. The look Sirius fixed him with was along the same lines as Walburga Black's many glares.
Before turning back to adult conversation, Sirius saw a smirk play across the dark wizard's handsome face. Gods, maybe he was drunk if he was noticing the man that way.
With dinner finished and cleaned up by Kreacher, Sirius tried to run away into his room and flee from there to the Potters. Regulus was fawned over by relatives and friends of Walburga's. The men were speaking to the Dark Lord about less party talk. None of this interested Sirius, who felt his head swimming.
Walburga pulled him aside before he could stomp up the stairs and retire, drunk and humiliated to the public eye, but in reality primed for escape. It was time to run away.
Identical black eyes peered at one another. Regulus looked more like their father, Sirius noticed in envy. He and Walburga were identical.
''I forbid you to speak to that man.''
''You forbid me so many things,'' Sirius slurred and tore away from her grasp, ''What makes you think I'll listen to you now?''
Abraxas Malfoy screeched like a peacock in the distance. Followed by a quick laugh from Regulus. His father's happy laughter joined in. It was so strange to hear his father happy when all summer he'd been nothing but resigned and hurting.
His mother's eyes sparked like fiendfyre. In them he saw only pain to come.
Brave and bold Gryffindor boy, Sirius Black added, feeling awfully spiteful when inebriated. ''Wouldn't you like for me to prove myself, mother? Isn't everything the Dark Lord wants what's best for our pure of blood society? Maybe I'll join him!''
She looked ready to slap him, but didn't only because she heard Orion calling her. His face fell grim at the sight of his family tearing at each other's throats. ''Sirius,'' the man said, tired and exhausted and wanting some semblance of peace.
''Go to my room, I know!'' Sirius yelled and stomped up the stairs, avoiding a tut-tutting Kreacher.
''I don't know what to do with him, Orion.'' Walburga admitted in a moment of weakness. Sirius heard it right as he closed his door shut. ''He's too much like me.''
Sirius madly looked around his room and through a spinning haze spotted his motorcycle. He wasn't going to tell anyone how he'd gotten it. Everybody could use their imagination.
Clumsily Sirius opened the window to his bedroom and turned on the motorcycle. If he did this right he might even manage to go through it towards freedom. In his school bag he packed his belongings and prepared for the night when his life would truly begin. James would be thrilled to see him, as would Mr and Mrs Potter no doubt.
Yeah, no - Sirius realised that the window was too small to go through with his motorcycle. He opened the door to his room and peeked out into the shindig bellow. Music started and Abraxas Malfoy was dancing with Thoros Nott. Walburga laughed, always merrier when not having to see her eldest son. Anger coursed through him. He saw Regulus talking to the Lestranges and they asked him if he was old enough to stay after dinner. Orion was being smart and apologising on behalf of his wife to Lord Voldemort.
When Sirius knew that no one was looking in his direction he mounted the motorbike and prepared to go down the stairs and through the door. He clutched his wand in one hand and the gas handle in the other. With a flick the doors opened.
Lord Voldemort stood up in that moment and said that he was thankful for the lovely evening spent with friends, but that he had quite a bit to do tomorrow. ''The war does not rest.'' he said amiably.
Sirius floored it at that moment. Drunk and brave and bold and everything his House lauded.
The dark wizard's incredible reflexes had him jolt back just in a knick of time to stop Sirius Black from running him over.
Upon feeling the fresh air on his skin, Sirius commanded the bike to fly up into the sky.
''SIRIUS ORION BLACK!'' His mother shouted after him, cross with him fully.
Sirius couldn't help but grin in pride. He'd done it! He took great joy in looking over his shoulder and seeing Grimmauld Place shrinking from view.
For few minutes of clarity and fool's luck, Sirius drove without maiming himself. Then a forested park came by and the drunkenness of his came back to haunt him. Losing his footing, Sirius crashed into a tree. The squeal of the motor paired with owls hooting made a symphony of agony.
Hideous pain spread through his form as he tumbled through the branches, cracking his head, scraping his knees even under the gaudy, wizard robes, but the culmination came with a crunch that forced tears to his eyes. A steady throb of hot, searing pain came from his arm.
Magic protected him from dying. It took much worse injury to kill a wizard. It cloaked him like a protective shield, but it wasn't perfect and it wasn't intently created. Sirius rested on the ground and gritted his teeth. If this hadn't sobered him, no amount of his mother's screeching ever could.
Soft footsteps sounded from nearby. Sirius wished to move to look at the source, but movement was pain and nausea inducing. His eyes remained scrunched shut and in darkness.
''I am not a law abiding citizen and Ministry law is not my forte.'' the voice said and Sirius wished it was his mother's. He opened his black eyes and stared into amused crimson. ''However, Mr. Black, I do believe you've broken several laws this fine evening. Underage drinking.'' Sirius could not believe that the bloody Dark Lord was listing off his crimes on his fingers while pondering whether or not to be a decent human being and help him up, ''Driving without a permit. Enchanting a muggle vehicle. Driving an enchanted vehicle. Endangering the wizarding world via obstruction of Statute of Secrecy. Tsk. Am I missing something?''
''My mother would probably add being a little cunt to her to that list.''
A scoff to mask a laugh met him and Sirius felt oddly proud of himself for that lack of control on the other's part.
''Why is the Dark Lord bothering himself with lil ol' me anyway?'' Sirius talked and hated now how his voice slurred and how immobile he felt. The man walked over to him and crouched down, taking out a white wand - the Dark Lord's wand of legend, the wand that killed so many people. So many people that Sirius saw as his equals whereas his family and his rescuer saw as garbage to be thrown out.
''Orion asked me to help look for you. It was easier than to mollify Lady Black.''
That title had Sirius busting a gut. He called his father by his first name but his over-the-top mother deserved a sarcastically said title. Gods!
Lights from the diagnostic charm lit up in a specific way that Sirius had no idea how to decipher.
''Congratulations, you're drunk and concussed at the same time.'' came the drawl. A few more swishes and flicks had Sirius feeling much better. The throb in his arm remained and when Sirius asked what was wrong with it he was told to bite down on something.
''It's broken and I am not proficient in bone setting spells.'' To humiliate him further, the Dark Lord took Sirius' wand and jammed it between his teeth. ''There, lovely to see you like this, Mr. Black. Absolutely fitting of your stature. This will hurt very badly, I assume. I have never had to cast a spell like this before, oh - how exciting.'' Those crimson eyes lit up.
''Oi fuck,'' Sirius mumbled incoherently and with his unbroken arm instinctively grabbed hold of the nearest authority figure. Fear coursed through him and amusement sparked in those inhuman eyes even more. Out of pity, Sirius assumed, Lord Voldemort didn't shake off Sirius' grip on him.
It was painful and quick and had Sirius screaming as his magic reacted to being ushered into mending his broken bone. ''FUCK!''
This time the Dark Lord didn't reprimand his crass language. He guessed that under these circumstances cursing was allowed.
''Use your arm, Mr. Black.'' Voldemort instructed clinically. Sirius lifted it and bent it and found that it followed with his commands fine. ''Good, boy.''
Bitterness and resentment flared inside Sirius at the childish praise, but also something else that he really didn’t want to think about. He tried to move to stand, but found that his orientation was shot still. The trees multiplied. Spitting out his wand into his hand, Sirius waved it to try and do magic and was promptly found immobile by a spell.
''Do not cast drunk, Mr. Black.'' Lord Voldemort said and took the wand from Sirius' hands, pushing it into his pocket for safe keeping. ''Once I return with you, Orion will get your wand. This stunt will no doubt have you punished, but Hogwarts nears so I take it this was planned.''
''I wanted to run away.'' Sirius divulged and didn't know why he was telling the Dark Lord this. He seemed like the least judgemental of all of mages in attendance. ''My mother's a bitch.''
''While I do agree, you could have done this whilst not under the influence. You've caused a terrible scene.''
Sirius rolled his eyes and regretted doing that. He leaned back on the tree behind him and groaned at the reverberating pressure on his brain.
Lord Voldemort grasped his shoulder in a firm squeeze and told him that if he wished he could put him to sleep. ''Whilst unconscious you cannot listen to Lady Black's banshee screams.''
''Gods, please.'' Sirius said and stumbled forward. Lord Voldemort caught him. They were inches apart and Sirius, being the teenager with raging hormones inside him, felt uncomfortable when in such close proximity to a handsome man. His white wand aimed at Sirius' head, but didn't cast yet. Sirius took that time to ask what would happen to his bike. ''I, uh, worked a lot on getting it and stuff.''
Derision coloured the Dark Lord's features then. ''I shall collect it and you will be able to find it at Malfoy Manor. If Abraxas wishes to return it to you, he shall.''
''Thanks.'' Sirius said and laughed when the older man recoiled at the prominent stench of alcohol dripping from Sirius' mouth.
Faced with the most powerful pureblood zealot in Britain, his mind muddled with alcohol, his body drumming and thrumming with both his magic and the other's - Sirius remembered his mother's hatred for this very, very handsome man and thought of a way to really spite her.
In for a penny in for a pound was the muggle saying. If he'd already caused his mother so much grief Sirius wished to do something that would really have her buttons pushed.
Before the swish and flick came down on Sirius and the young man fell asleep, he surged for the startled Dark Lord and kissed him. It lasted two-three seconds at best before he was pushed away. The man smelled of lavender, Sirius noted.
Confusion, but no disdain or mockery like Sirius expected, formed on Lord Voldemort's face: ''I appear to have miscalculated how drunk you were, Mr. Black. Good night.''
Sirius woke up tomorrow in his room. The only indication that last night had happened was his missing motorcycle.
He’d kissed the Dark Lord. Sirius laughed in horror. James would never believe him.