Chapter Text
By the time Sirius Black was 5 years old, he had learned to handle pain. He did not cry out, partly to avoid punishment and partly because even at a young age he had learned to grit his teeth and refuse to give his parents the satisfaction.
Which is why, when he woke up to searing pain and an overpowering sense of terror in the dead of the night - he was able to stay quiet. Before consciousness had fully come he already had his face buried into his pillow, biting into the fabric while tears formed and he shook.
Eventually he was able to calm down enough to limp to his desk and flick on the lamp - the light soft enough to not attract attention. He pulled down his pyjama pants to look at his hip. In the warm glow, the jagged bite mark seemed to dance like fire, golden rippling across his skin. It took up his entire hip, and he shuddered to imagine the massive creature that must have made it. He nearly threw up in horror and wondered if he'd know if his soulmate had died.
After allowing himself the dangerous luxury of shedding silent tears, he wiped his face and turned off the lamp before sneaking into his brother's bedroom. They had a pact - when one had a nightmare, they could go to the other. No questions would be asked, just silent companionship in the grim house.
—
The marks were a simple reality of life. To us, they would seem terribly strange - every time your soulmate was injured, the mark would show on your skin in a brilliant display of gold. No explanation for this had ever been found, and it occurred in both the magical and muggle world.
The gold mark would match the injury, healing as they did. Bruises would bloom and fade, small cuts would flare then heal, scars would stay but change with the healing process and settle in time. It made it quite difficult to keep the magical world a secret, as sometimes a muggle or muggle born would have soul marks that vanished impossibly fast. The Ministry of Magic had needed to set up a department that worked within the muggle world - doctors were trained to refer people with oddly behaving soul marks to this department, unaware it was tied to the magical community.
This was how a certain Lily Evans had both discovered the existence of magic, beyond her friend Sev, and that her soulmate was most likely a witch or wizard. But this is not her story.
Remus Lupin had not needed this explanation, as his father was a wizard. When his skin had flared with marks that were then erased rapidly, his mother had started telling him stories about her own experience. How she had first known something was strange as a young girl when the golden scratches of scraped knees had vanished before she could show her sister.
Remus enjoyed the stories for a few months. Something about the marks that blasted onto his skin felt wrong, but he supposed any injury would.
Then, the bite.
His father had made a stupid, heartless comment and a werewolf took the rage out on Lyall's 4 year old son.
It had been agony and terror, he thought he'd been ripped in half. St Mungo's was a nightmare, the healers reluctant to treat a werewolf bite and delaying even giving him a potion for pain or dreamless sleep. It had felt like an eternity of his mother holding him in her arms, sobbing while cooing empty reassurances while his father shouted at healers.
He ended up unconscious for a few days, then on strong potions that made him too woozy to string a thought together. Then the bandages covered the wound and he wasn't able to see it.
After getting home, he finally looked at the bite mark for the first time. It was angry and ragged and took up nearly his entire hip area. One of the teeth had managed to nip his groin, thankfully not doing damage to the appendage there but terrible to see nonetheless.
He didn't know what happened to massive scars as he grew. Would it stay the same size, appearing to shrink as he got larger? Would it stretch with him?
There was a round, golden mark on his shin - a bruise, his soulmate tended to let those heal on their own for some reason - and his heart sank at the reminder. He ran a hand over the tender skin on his hip and started crying that he was sorry, so sorry that whoever was on the end had to be stuck with this broken wreck.
—
Sirius had nearly made it to Hogwarts without his parents noticing the soul marks. It was something of a miracle, really, considering the amount of times they blasted him with some curse or another then healed it to hide the damage. In a deeply twisted way he even felt grateful that they focused on his arms and hands and face and neck - most of the scars showed up on his abdomen and legs. The smaller cuts healed before they were noticed, or maybe just didn't warrant attention.
The Black children had been taught since they could speak that the marks were meaningless. They were the heirs to the Noble and Most Ancient House of Black. They had a duty to make favorable, pure blood matches and produce heirs of high quality breeding. Perhaps his parents simply ignored the marks on their children the way they ignored their own.
By the time Sirius was 7, he had figured out his soul mate was a werewolf. He knew this would incite a deeper disdain and rage from his parents than the typical marks and did his best to hide the fresh gold that splayed across his body the morning after every full moon.
Unfortunately, by the time he was 14 his cousin Cissy was already being courted by some prat from the Malfoy family. It was a grim reminder of Sirius's own fate.
The Malfoy mansion had a massive, indoor bath they very much enjoyed using to entertain- flaunting their wealth and power at both the size of it and also the luxurious charms and potions that went into it. It was a truly divine experience, not that a sullen 14 year old had any interest in it.
Unfortunately, this meant his usual demand to wear a top when swimming was dismissed. He had no excuse of protecting his alabaster skin from the sun. (An excuse Regulus hated, as it had meant Regulus was forced to wear the obscenely outdated swimsuits that covered their chest, arms, and legs as well.)
When he put his foot down and fought, his mother did what she always did - cursing him into agony. As he lay wrecked on the floor, she magically removed the offending swimsuit and began haughtily telling him to make himself presentable - about to toss him the clothing she had deemed suitable - when her eyes glanced over his body.
For the first time, she saw the jagged lines of gold that stretched across his chest and back and legs. The massive, damning bite mark that took up the lion's share of his hip.
Sirius had managed to turn his head to face her, intending to give a defiant glare, but the look on her face managed to strike true fear into his heart for the first time in a long time.
"Kreacher," she hissed, and the elf appeared next to her, bowing and professing his loyalty as always, "You are to take this child home - do not allow him to leave his bedroom. Do not heal his wounds. I shall make up an excuse with the Malfoys for why he left and decide how to deal with him later."
The elf was not cruel, a fact which Sirius was unable to appreciate as Kreacher was also forced to carry out his mistress's wishes. He put Sirius to bed and made him as comfortable as the bounds of Walburga's orders would allow him to.
Sirius simply huddled under the blanket, in pain and feeling blood oozing from cursed wounds, terrified of his own fate.
—
For the next few weeks, Sirius was kept on house arrest and confined to his bedroom as much as possible. His mother never healed the curses she had cast, leaving him to endure the pain of his own body trying to patch itself together for the first time in his life. She spoke to him little and barely acknowledged his existence.
He wanted to be relieved, to sneer about how he'd wanted this for years. It made him tense and on edge, it was the first time his mother's fury had lasted. She seemed to be biding her time and he was nauseous to consider why.
The morning after the full moon, before breakfast he was summoned to the tapestry room. His parents were sitting there in separate arm chairs.
"Show me the new marks," Walburga said coldly.
Sirius took as deep a breath as he dared, knowing that delaying would only make things worse. She had suspected and now wanted to see the proof.
He didn't bother lying or delaying, taking off his shirt. His arms were covered with smaller cuts and scrapes, they'd be gone soon. Likely by lunchtime, based on his past experience. His soulmate clearly had someone magical to patch him up. There was also a rather nasty gash that clipped his collar bone. It might scar, it wasn't always clear.
Both his parents took in a sharp, hissing breath when they saw him.
"These have been appearing following the full moon each month then," Orion said, his voice emotionless and face like ice.
"I think so, papa, about the same time each month," he said quietly, pretending that he hadn't been religiously tracking the cycle of the moon.
Walburga pursed her lips, "You didn't tell us."
"No, maman," he said, managing to keep his voice calm even as the rage burned in his throat, "You told us these marks are of no consequence."
His mother narrowed her eyes before simply tutting and turning to her husband, as if Sirius were an object to be discussed. He grimaced and shivered slightly, but didn't feel like being cursed just for putting his damn shirt back on.
"This is a problem - our son has a half breed for a soul mate, we can't let that scandal get out," Orion said firmly, as if they were discussing a business transaction.
"With our family name we should still be able to find him a suitable match. Perhaps aim slightly lower - a family that will be too grateful to balk," Walburga suggested, "Regulus can make up for it. He's already the more obedient of the two, he'll make a far better husband."
Sirius bit his tongue until he tasted copper, preventing himself from snarling that he didn't want to be married off. That he and his brother weren't livestock to be auctioned off and bred for their own desires. That he would rather find this half breed and be with them than marry any of their pompous pureblood princesses.
"Very well - we can also research how to remove the soulmarks, perhaps hide this shameful secret. It's hardly a reflection on our family that some accident has left our son harnessed to a monster," Orion agreed.
With that, he was dismissed to properly dress and go down for breakfast. Which was a blessing, as two seconds later and he would have started a screaming match that would likely have left him bedridden from curses until the Hogwarts Express.
—
A few months into his time at Hogwarts, Remus noticed that he hadn’t gotten any marks from his soulmate since the start of term. In the whirl of awe and overwhelm that was being at the school, of full moons clawing himself to ribbons in the shack, and nights in the hospital wing either to recover or make the timing less obvious - it took time to be noteworthy.
It was early in November when he noticed, the evening of Sirius's birthday. James had found out when it was and planned something elaborate because James Potter and Sirius Black had become inseparable and they'd already learned that everything about the way James showed love was big and bright.
Thankfully it was in their dorm room, because Sirius had ended up crying. That was the first time he let them in about his parents' coldness, his birthday had always been a fairly somber affair focused on adults.
That night, as Remus got changed into his pyjamas in the privacy of the bathroom, he looked at his body in the mirror and frowned to realize there hadn't been any new gold. That was probably a good thing, and again wished he could apologize properly to his soulmate for continuing to mar their bodies every month without fail.
—
Sirius dreaded the winter holiday. He would have found a way to stay at Hogwarts, but Regulus was alone in that house and his stilted letters made it clear that his brother was being kept on a tight leash by their parents.
Regulus's birthday was over the holiday, as well. He couldn't bring himself to miss that.
He managed to hold himself together on the train ride home, nestled into a compartment with the dorm mates who were already better friends than he had ever dreamed of having. James and Peter had noticed the subject was a bit sore for both Sirius and Remus, and had stopped waxing poetic about their own families' warm traditions a week earlier. Instead they did their best to spread the cheer by drawing their two friends into off-key, holiday unrelated songs and telling jokes and moaning about the homework they'd been given to complete by the start of next term.
It was a welcome distraction and Sirius managed to fight the urge to cry again, awed by how understanding these boys could be.
Remus spent the train ride tapping their knees together every time the dread started creeping into his chest. Remus was the quietest and most withdrawn of them, his only claim to fame that he was a good person to ask for help with homework, and Sirius didn't know what to make of him most of the time. Without fail, though, the whole train ride it was Remus who first noticed and knocked him out of his dark thoughts - and he deeply wished he'd have the chance to ask how before they had to say goodbye.
It would have to wait until the start of term, which felt impossibly far away.
—
Walburga had allowed Sirius an hour to unpack his things and get settled in. He had done his best to reach out to Regulus during this time, and his heart sank to see how withdrawn and bitter his younger brother had become without Sirius as a buffer.
"They're furious you're in Gryffindor," the young boy muttered, "Digging their nails in to make sure I don't follow your path. Making sure I'll be the proper heir they desire. They used to be happy enough that I wasn't you - now I can't make any mistakes without being shrieked at or cursed."
They were both sat on Regulus's bed, and Sirius dug his fingers into the mattress as rage and helplessness filled him. He managed to calm himself, focus on needing to help his brother, and then he wrapped his arms around him.
"I'm sorry, you don't deserve any of that," Sirius said softly.
"If you'd just try to do better they wouldn't be so hard on me!" Regulus snapped, tears in his eyes as he shoved Sirius away and stormed out.
He slunk back to his bedroom, wondering why he'd even bothered to come back.
Not that he had long to wonder before his mother summoned him into the tapestry room. This time it was only her, his father apparently hadn't deemed it important enough. As usual, she sat regally in her arm chair as if it were a throne. As usual, Sirius stood and waited for her to address him.
Unusual, though, was his pose. He stood tall, his head held high, a defiant jut to his chin. The months at school - being treated with respect and love, not facing daily abuse - had bolstered him. While he knew his parents could, and likely would, torture him - he also knew that in just under a month's time he would be on the train back to a place of joy and safety.
Walburga noticed this and tensed her jaw.
"Boy - do you truly plan to stand there with your head held high after the shame you have brought on this family?" she asked quietly, her voice steady but laced with threat.
Sirius pressed his lips together for a moment, "I am getting excellent marks in my classes, maman, I believe my professors have told you."
"What use are top marks when you insist on being a disappointment at every turn?" she spat, and he felt his chest clench at the dismissal, "You allowed yourself to be sorted into Gryffindor! Housed with blood traitors and mudbloods! You have been told since infancy that our family has proudly, without fail been housed in Slytherin since the founding of the school!"
Despite himself, he winced. All of his cousins were Slytherin. Even Andy, who he suspected was least sympathetic to the family, had been sorted into the family.
"I cannot control the Sorting Hat, maman, it was out of my control." This was a lie and he prayed his mother didn't know it. The hat had been torn with him - the choice had been his.
Walburga sneered, "Are you so stupid, boy? Or do you think me a fool? It is common knowledge that requests are listened to. You could have demanded the hat place you in Slytherin - by accepting its ruling, you made your choice."
"I'm sorry, maman, it happened too fast." Said through gritted teeth, he was losing his composure and she knew it. She was winning, not that Sirius had a chance in hell of doing anything but lose here.
"You are a disgrace to the Black name," she snarled, "Too weak and feeble minded for the legacy you have been blessed with."
The curse hit hard. Initially he believed it was because it had been so long since he'd been injured like this. Aside from a few papercuts and stubbed toes, he had not been injured at Hogwarts.
It would take him a few days to realize it was harsher than usual. After a week he finally broke down and asked his mother if it could be healed.
"No, the mark stays," she had said airily, as if discussing a shirt he wasn't happy with, "Your body is already ruined - and that monster of yours ought to be grateful for a bit of gold on her skin with all those disgusting scars, it's likely the only gold she'll see in her lifetime."
His response to this resulted in another scar.