Discaimer! I'll make this short and sweet. I wish I was JKR, but I'm not. She owns everything, I own a crappy laptop.

i'm tired of being what you want me to be
feeling so faithless, lost under the surface
don't know what you're expecting of me
put under the pressure of walking in your shoes

As usual, the dinner table was silent. The only sounds were the clanking of silverware on plates and the occasional scolding of 'sit up', 'don't slouch', or 'close your mouth when you chew'. The Black family usually ate in silence. About halfway throughout the meal, Orion and Wallburga would comment on their days, but other than that it was mostly quiet. Every now and then the two parents would criticize some muggleborn at his work or some blood traitor family they knew – usually just to get a rouse out of their eldest son. After six years of it, however, Sirius Black has become able to drown it out and just ignore it.

It still gets under his skin, he couldn't lie about that. Especially when his parents would bring up his friends (one a blood traitor, one a half-blood, and the other just a Pettigrew), He would clench his fist underneath the table, but otherwise he would remain calm – his face just a stoic feature. After years of practice, he has been able to keep himself void of any emotions. The slightest of inclination that they have ticked him off could send his parents into hour-long rants about how worthless his friends are and how much better he is than them and how he should act it. But if he didn't show any sign that he had even heard, they would go into hour-long rants about how worthless of a scum he was and how ungrateful and spoiled he was for not listening. It was much easier just to nod his head and act like he was agreeing with every word that they said and let them think that he was going to really change his ways this time.

"How was your day?" Wallburga started the conversation with, after placing her fork down and patting her mouth gently with her cloth napkin, the question directed at her hard-faced husband.

Orion followed suit and also placed down his fork and knife he was using to cut the under-cooked chicken his wife had cooked (using magic, of course; any sort of household chore without it was just simply too muggle). Taking a sip from his wine before answering, he settled into telling his story of the day. That was about the time Sirius drowned out the conversation, as he usually did. He had trained himself to pick up certain key words (mudblood, traitor, one of his friends, the Dark Lord) that would cue in his participation in the conversation. Until then, he kept his eyes glued to his plate and continued eating. He really had no care in the world for what son of a bitch his father ruined the life of today.

His thoughts were locked in on what he was doing later that week – visiting James. Sirius often found himself wishing that he really had been born James' brother, as the Potters often pointed out on how they acted. He knew it sounded entirely childish, but truth be told, he really didn't care. He hated his family, absolutely despised them. They were nothing more than a bunch of cruel, disgusting pureblood maniacs. His cousin Andromeda and his Uncle Alphard were the only two out of the whole lot that he could stand. Andromeda was a wonderful, powerful witch who just so happened to marry a muggleborn. Sirius highly respected her. And his uncle was just an all-around good guy. He was a complete coward and acted as if he was just like any other regular Black most of the time, but when around Sirius or Andy, he was a completely different man. He was caring and kind and could care less about the whole blood type issue.

The Potters were a pureblood family, as well, but they could also care less about lineage. Mr. Potter was known for supporting muggle rights and Mrs. Potter was a kind hearted woman who actually knew how to cook with or without magic. Her cooking was honestly the best Sirius had ever tasted. Even James tended to get homesick when at Hogwarts (which was known for having some of the best food) for some of his mother's home-cooked meals. Wallburga Black couldn't even pour a bowl of cereal correctly.

"…mudblood thought he was higher than me, can you believe that?" Sirius' father was saying.

His mother made a tsking sound with her tongue. "Absolutely unacceptable." She cut a piece of lettuce with her knife and for. "I don't know how the minister allows them in the Ministry like that. He should be taken out of office immediately." She put the lettuce in her mouth, eating it dry. "These mudbloods are infecting our lives more and more every day." Cut another piece of lettuce. "They should be executed for stealing magic the way they are." Chewed and swallowed that piece. "Absolutely unacceptable." Took a drink.

Sirius' hand was clenched tightly underneath the table, away from his parents' and nosy little brother's eyes. His face was stern and he hadn't moved a muscle in it, certainly much to his immediate family's dismay. His eyes were still focused intently on his horrid meal. He put a piece of chicken in his mouth and chewed it quickly in order to distract himself and calm himself down.

As usual, his younger brother decided it was time to make a move. It was as if his entire life revolved around making Sirius' life hell. The more his brother messed up, the more praise Regulus got. "Hey, Sirius, aren't you friends with a mudblood?" He said collectively across the table.

Sirius looked up at his brother as if he just realized that he was there. He shrugged one shoulder before continuing with his meal, choosing not to respond. The subject was far from dropped though and Sirius made a mental note to kill his brother after the meal was finally over.

"Is this true?" His mother questioned him, placing her fork down noisily. Even though he wasn't looking at her, he could feel her eyes boring into the side of his face and knew that her arms were crossed tightly across her chest. As if they'd never had this conversation before. Please, Sirius wanted to say, it was as if this was the only topic they ever spoke on. "Well?" She persisted when Sirius didn't answer right away.

Looking up at his cold-hearted mother, Sirius shrugged again. "Yes ma'am," he answered cordially, figuring it was best to get it over with as quickly as possible. It was bound to come anyway; better to get it over with now.

can't you see that you're smothering me
holding too tightly, afraid to lose control
'cause everything that you thought i would be
has fallen apart right in front of you

His mother tsk'd again. "I don't know what it is with you," she started. "What's wrong with Lucius Malfoy and the Lestrange boys?" She uncrossed her arms and picked up her fork and knife again, this time going for the chicken. "They're perfectly grand boys."

"They don't go to Hogwarts anymore," Sirius responded with shortly as if that explained his seven years of avoiding them and associating himself with people his parents would never approve of. In reality, Malfoy and the Lestranges were complete brainwashed fools. They were all for the whole dark magic, muggleborn-killing thing.

Wallburga rolled her eyes, an action she usually would reprimand Sirius for making. "Well, what about Avery or Yaxley or Dolohov? What about Rosier? Aren't they all their age?"

Sirius shook his head. "Dolohov's Malfoy's age and Yaxley graduated two years ago." Stubborn. His mother rubbed her temples.

"Well, then there you go. Avery and Rosier. And is it so hard for you to make friends that aren't necessarily your age?" She questioned, exasperated with her son's hard-headed behavior.

"Actually, weren't you friends with that Fenwick guy and Dearborn?" Regulus decided to chime in again.

Sirius rolled his eyes at his brother. "I played Quidditch with Dearborn and I know Fenwick through him." He answered matter-of-factly. Caradoc Dearborn and Benjy Fenwick were actually good friends of Sirius', Benjy especially. Caradoc had been the Gryffindor Quidditch team captain for the three years that Sirius had played on the team. Fenwick was a good friend of Caradoc's, but Sirius had really met him on his own; whilst the Hufflepuff was tormenting some younger Slytherin boys (who had thought it funny to poke fun at the older Hufflepuff for some reason).

Sirius made a face at Regulus.

"Act your age," his father scolded him, speaking up for the first time since he told his story that prompted the rest of the conversation.

"Well, I'm sure you could have had some way of conversing with some more respectable people," his mother huffed. As if life would have been so much better for Sirius had he allowed for his parents to pick out his friends for him. As if life would be so much easier if he couldn't even control that part of his life. As if life would be simple and easy and good if Sirius hadn't been sorted into Gryffindor, had followed in his parents' footsteps (but to a more severe degree), and had lived his life the way his parents wanted him to.

Oh, wait. It would.

But no one said life was supposed to be easy, now did they? I believe the saying goes "life's tough, get a helmet", not "life's easy, have a party".

Sirius closed his eyes briefly before opening them, taking a deep breath in the process in order to compose himself. "You're absolutely right, mother. I should have let you pick my friends for me, I'm sorry." It somewhat worked.

every step that i take is another mistake to you

Orion stood up abruptly. "You do not talk to your mother that way." He scolded, pushing his chair in. As his wife joined in suit, standing up as well, Orion called for Kreacher, their bitter and somewhat creepy house elf, to clear the table. "Dinner's over." Conversation over.

Sirius and Regulus stood up simultaneously and pushed their own chairs in before making their way out of the dining room. As they passed their parents, who had headed into the parlor, and made their way up the staircase, Sirius gave his younger brother a shove from behind. "What the hell is wrong with you?" He snapped quietly as they reached the top of the steps.

"What the hell is wrong with you?" Regulus retorted with, louder, as he steadied himself and whipped around to face his brother.

Sirius glared at him. "You think you're so much better than me, just because they think of you as the better son," he shook his head and smirked before continuing. "But you know what, they still pay more attention to me than they do you."

"Shut it," Regulus glowered. "You're lying."

Sirius gave out a little laugh. "Oh, am I? You know it's true, Reg. Why do you think you use me as an excuse to get them to talk about you? Because you know that otherwise, they couldn't give a rat's ass about you."

A growl sounded from the back of the younger boy's throat. "I said, shut it."

Sirius rolled his eyes and took a step past his brother. "Why don't you just give it a rest, Reg? They don't care about you any more than they care about a bark of wood. You're fighting a losing battle trying to win over their affection. They don't care about anything but themselves."

Regulus snapped and grabbed his brother by the front of his shirt. "I said, shut it."

Sirius merely laughed in his face. "Oh, what are you going to do, Reg? I'm twice your size, you can't use magic. You going to tell mummy and daddy that I'm being mean to you? Go right ahead." Punch.

He wasn't expecting it. Regulus wasn't a very steady boy when it came to his emotions. He'd always been one to lose his anger easily, Sirius knew from being the one to cause it the most. But he hadn't ever fully come out and hit someone before. He was weak, could hardly take on Kreacher if forced to (not that they would, the two adore each other for some odd reason). But the unexpectedness of the punch caused Sirius to stagger backwards a step. He brought a hand to his lip. Blood.

"Well, well, Reggie. Looks like we're getting a little better at that right-hook," Sirius mocked. Never one to back down.

Stubborn.

Regulus' eyes resembled two pieces black, fiery coal. Sirius was pretty sure he'd never seen the younger boy so riled up before. Then again, the kid had always been pretty sensitive when it came to winning over his parents' attention. He was love-starved, being the younger son in such a highly esteemed family. Sirius was the rebel, the black sheep. He got all the attention. Orion and Wallburga were constantly forced to keep their elder son's behavior on the down low and therefore were forced to steer their attention more towards him than his brother. It had always been that way. Sirius getting the attention and the praise. When they were younger, even before he was sorted into Gryffindor, Sirius had been the heir and therefore had been the pride and joy, despite his somewhat rebellious nature to cause as much trouble as humanly possible. Regulus was quiet and slightly nerdy. He was timid and shy and could never stand up for himself. Back then, it was Sirius their parents wanted Regulus to be, not the other way around. Sirius would stand up for Regulus. Take on the older kids that would pick on him. It was Sirius who was the good son. The strong one.

That had always ticked Regulus off. Just because he was born two years later, he never quite got the same attention as his brother. He never had the love or the affection. He craved it.

"You don't know anything," Regulus said quietly. Voice low, eyes black, face hardened.

Sirius raised his eyebrows. "I don't?" He sighed and shook his head. "Kid, when are you going to get it? If you would just quit trying to win over their hearts already…"

"What? I can be just like you? Well, that's all fine and dandy, but maybe I don't want to be like you." Cold. Hard. Bitter. Starved.

Sirius sighed again. "Whatever," he muttered and turned on his heel, heading towards his room where he would stay, writing letters to his friends, until the next day when he was forced downstairs for breakfast, only to return afterwards.

"You just want the spotlight on you," Regulus called after him, not quite done with the older boy. "You don't care about anyone else. You just want everything to yourself. Mum and dad are right – you're nothing more than a spoiled, useless brat, Sirius. You always have been, you always will be." Angry. Resentful.

Sirius stopped in his tracks. Pursed his lips. Turned to face his brother again. He shook his head and pointed a finger. "You don't know anything. You're naïve, spiteful. You fill your head up with all these wrong things that they tell you and your heart up with all this crap about no one caring. You're just an angry little boy inside, yearning for his mother, Regulus. Open your fucking eyes and see that you're never going to get her. You're never going to get your father, either. They don't care." Finality in his tone, Sirius turned again and walked a few more steps down the hall.

"I hate you." Childish. Hurtful.

and i know I may end up failing, too
but i know you were just like me
with someone disappointed in you
Sirius shook his head and turned his head on an angle to catch a glimpse of his brother out of the corner of his eye. "Well, that's just fine and dandy," he said.

He had almost reached his door when he felt a slight breeze past his ear and heard a sudden crash against the wall just past his head. He turned his head to see glass shattered and dirt and flowers littering the floor. Turning around and gave his brother an incredulous look. "What the fuck is wrong with you?!" He shouted, walking quickly towards Regulus. Once reaching him, he grabbed him by the front of his shirt as had just been done to him by the same boy and lifted him in the air. "Are you insane? Are you stupid?" He thrust him against the wall before letting go of him, realizing what he was doing, and stepping back. He ran a hand through his hair. "Git," he mumbled under his breath.

Footsteps on the stairs, running. "What the hell is going on up here?" Father. Mother.

Orion and Wallburga reached the top of the staircase, looked at the scene in front of them, Sirius a foot away from his brother, exasperated, a broken flower pot in the background, a dent on the wall where it hit.

Sirius shook his head again and waved a hand at his brother. "The git's a downright fool. Lost his mind." He answered bitterly, glowering at Regulus.

Orion looked from one brother to the other, not quite sure what to make of the situation. All he knew was that it must've been caused by the elder one. The man sighed, ran a hand down his face. "I don't know what to do with you," he turned on his oldest son. "The problems you start in this household. I can't take it anymore, boy."

Sirius narrowed his eyes. "He throws a fucking vase, and you can't take me anymore?"

"Well, I sure as hell know that you did something to provoke him! And you better watch your goddamn mouth, kid. So help me…"

"What? You going to curse me? Hex me into the next generation? Knock some sense into me? Go right ahead, I've had it all before." Fed up. Angry.

Punch.

Two in less than five minutes. He must be a record breaker or something. "Quit it with the mouth, boy."

Holding a hand to his mouth, wiping away more blood, Sirius glowered at his father. "Do it." He dared.

i've become so numb, i can't feel you there
become so tired, so much more aware
i'm becoming this, all i want to do
is be more like me, and be less like you

It was Orion's turn to narrow his eyes. "I will," he threatened quietly, harshly.

Sirius spread his arms out. "Then go."

"Crucio!"

He fell to the ground, writhing in pain, refusing to scream. He bit his tongue. Hard. More blood. Pain. White-hot, never ending pain. It crept through every bone, muscle, and tissue of his body. His blood seemed to be on fire, boiling. He couldn't hear anything, couldn't see anything.

His father had threatened to use this curse on him so many times, but never had until now. He'd been expecting it to come for years now, but it never had. It wasn't a surprise, though, that he had used it now. Sirius had learned a long time ago that surprises were overrated in the Black household.

The curse was lifted and Orion turned his back to his son, who lay gasping on the floor. "Get up," he spat out harshly, without facing him.

Sirius staggered to his feet, slowly and painfully. Even though the curse was lifted, he could still feel it. It wasn't as severe, but the pain was still there.

"I don't understand you, boy," Orion said, rubbing the bridge of his nose with his thumb and forefinger, finally turning around. He took a step forward so that he was just inches away from his oldest son. "Tell me. What is it that makes you the way you are?"

Sirius didn't answer, looked past his father.

"You're friends with that Potter kid. A half-blood. A Pettigrew, of all things. A mudblood, now, too?" He sighed. "Where did we go wrong with you? What did we ever do to make you such a disappointment to the world?"

Sirius clenched his teeth together, but otherwise made no other gesture. He could still taste the blood in his mouth from when he bit his tongue too hard.

"Look at me." Sirius flickered his eyes up to meet his father's. The man's face was turning red. Angry. "Answer me."

"I don't believe you," Sirius answered shortly.

Orion sighed and backed off a few steps. "Believe what? What is there to believe? The truth? That those mudbloods and blood traitors, those scum, that you call your friends serve no purpose to the world? What good do they bring, huh? Answer me."

"Courage, wisdom, integrity, friendship," Sirius responded, staring his father down. "Love, hope, faith. Reason."

Wallburga snorted. Regulus rolled his eyes. Orion shook his head. "Reason for what?" The latter questioned, mockingly.

"To get up every day and deal with your worthless shit of a family," Sirius answered coldly.

Punch.

This one was in his gut and Sirius couldn't help but let a groan escape his lips and bend over slightly. He'd been expecting it, but hadn't better prepared himself for it. His father grabbed a handful of his hair and forced his head up. Angry.

"You think you are so much better than this family. You think you're higher up than we are. But you're not, Sirius, you are so much less than us. You're weak; you won't make anything of your life. You'll be living on the streets by the time you're twenty-five, hungry, starved, and dying. Then where will your friends be? Nowhere. The mudbloods will be dead. The blood traitors diminished. Your little friends will be destroyed. Friendship gets you nowhere. You're weak if you think it will." Orion let go of the clump of hair he had grabbed and shoved his son back into the wall behind him. He took a step closer to him so that he was an inch away from him. Crouched down so that he was eye level to his slumped-over son. "Worthless." Punch.

Orion grabbed Sirius' chin to force him to look up from the floor. Shaking his head again, he grabbed the back of his shirt and directed him to the mirror hanging on the wall. "Look at yourself," he ordered. Beaten, bloody, bruised. Hurt. "Is that the face of someone who is strong? Is that the face of a boy who is loved? Do you have hope and faith now, Sirius? No. You're just sitting there scarred and bruised. And you know what? You brought it all on to yourself." Shove.

Sirius fell back against the wall.

"Your friends aren't going to help you with anything," Orion continued. "They're just as pathetic as you are. Get your head out of your arse." He turned on his heel and walked down the stairs, his wife following.

Sirius pushed himself up off the wall and headed back towards his room, past his brother. "I told you," Regulus said, just loud enough for Sirius to hear. The older boy didn't stop and closed the door to his room behind him. Punch.

The Gryffindor-clad walls shook slightly at the intensity of the punch.

Sick. Tired. Fed up.

Angry.

i've become so numb, i can't feel you there

Mmkay, so review. I mean it. I'll hunt you down if you don't. Even if it's to tell me how much you absolutely despise this story, review. I love flames. They help me improve, so flame if you must, boost my confidence if you must. I love them both.

This story is probably only going to be two or three chapters. So, don't expect much. It's a short story. :