For the By the Hour Challenge (Sirius, angst in 2 hours and 45 minutes)

Warning for mentions of child abuse.

i.

He's four years old and can't find his parents. He had wandered off for a moment, just a quick blink of the eye, and now they're gone.

"M-Mother?" he calls, lips quivering. "Father?"

No answer. No sign of them.

Sirius turns, afraid. What if they've left him? What if he has to live on the streets like that scary, dirty woman in Diagon Alley, the one with no teeth and long fingernails.

"Mother! Father!" he calls again, tears in his eyes.

"There, there. Come here, little one."

It isn't his mother. She's too young, too pretty, and she seems much too nice. But Sirius walks closer, trembling. "I can't find my parents," he sniffles.

The woman kneels beside him, taking his hand. "It's okay, honey. We'll find them. What's your name?"

"Sirius."

She frowns. "Funny name. Well, Sirius, I'm Nadine," she says gently, climbing to her feet, still holding his hand. "Let's find your mummy and da-"

"Sirius Orion Black!"

Sirius flinches when he hears the voice. His mother rushes forward. "Take your hands off my son, you filthy Muggle!" she shrieks.

Nadine drops his hand, taking a frightened step back. "I'm sorry. I was only trying to-"

She grabs Sirius by the wrist, snatching him away, her fingers digging bruises into his skin. "What have I told you about that filth?" she demands.

"M-Mother, I didn't- I-"

But his cries fall on deaf ears. She's dragging him down the street, and Sirius finds himself wishing that he could have gone home with Nadine instead.

..

Sirius is soar, little bruises blossoming on his legs. But he will not cry. Crying will only make them punish him more.

"Don't ever speak to a Muggle again," his father says. "They're dangerous. They'll fill your head with bad stuff, son. You don't want that, do you?"

Sirius shakes his head, tears stinging his eyes. "No, Father."

He wishes his father would hold him, let him know that he loves him. Instead, he simply nods, fixing Sirius with a stern look. "Good. See that it doesn't happen again, boy. Now, bed. No dinner."

ii.

He's eight year old, and he loves his little secret. Muggle comic books he'd found in the bins when he and Regulus had gone out to play.

"Mother and Father will be angry," Regulus had said.

Sirius had only rolled his eyes. "That's why you're not going to tell them, stupid."

"That's lying, Sirius!"

"Nah. It's not running your mouth about stuff you don't need to," Sirius had said.

And Regulus has been so good at keeping his secret. Sirius smiles to himself. Maybe having a little brother isn't such a bad thing after all.

..

He flips the page of the comic book, his eyes wide. It really looks like the Joker has Batman, and there are only three pages left to go.

His eyes dart eagerly over the colored panels, fixated, so caught up in the storyline that he doesn't even notice as the door opens.

"What have we here?" his mother asks, striding across the room and plucking the comic from her son's hands. "Muggle filth again, Sirius?"

"It- Mother, I-"

But his mother isn't listening. With sever flicks of her wand, she sends his things tumbling until she's found his secret stash. "And forcing your brother to lie to us, on top of everything else," she says darkly, collecting all the comics and tucking them under her arm. "You are quickly becoming very dangerous, boy. You know what happens to dangerous people in the House of Black, don't you?"

Sirius thinks of all his ancestors that have been reduced to charred circles on the tapestry. He nods, swallowing dryly. "Yes, Mother."

With her free hand, she gestures for him to follow her. Reluctantly, he does until they reach the fireplace.

She hands him a comic- the one that he had just been reading, the one he had been on edge to finish. For one fleeting moment, he thinks he might have a chance. But she gestures toward the flames. "Burn it."

"Mother!"

"Now, Sirius. We can't have dangerous ideas in this house."

Tears sting his eyes. It's stupid to be this sad over something so silly. But they had been his comics. They had been his magical portal into another world, a world so exciting and different from his own.

He tosses it into the flames, wincing as the fire quickly reduces it to ashes. Over and over. Batman, ashes. Superman, ashes. Green Lantern, ashes. Ashes, ashes, ashes, until there is nothing left.

"Wait until your father gets home."

..

"Sirius?"

Sirius crouches down, peering at his little brother through the crack in his bedroom door.

"They made me tell, Sirius."

"I know, Reg."

ii.

He's eleven year old, and the Sorting Hat bellows out, "Gryffindor!" for the whole castle to hear.

His new House table cheers, and Sirius tries to smile as he takes a seat among them. But, despite his bravado, he's afraid.

Blacks are supposed to be in Slytherin. His mother has told him so as long as he can remember. It's a tradition, and traditions are meant to be followed.

"Good for you, mate," James says when he joins him, grinning from ear to ear. "Knew you wouldn't disappoint me."

Sirius scrubs his hands over his face, shaking his head. "My parents will kill me," he mutters.

James rolls his eyes. "Not the end of the world."

"You don't know my family."

..

Sirius,

We expect to see you home on Christmas.

Mother

Sirius reads the letter over and over. Just one simple sentence. Eight words in response to the novel of a letter he had sent home explaining his living situation at Hogwarts.

It isn't what he had expected. It isn't a warm, forgiving letter, but it isn't angry, either. He supposes it can't be too bad, really. He hasn't been disowned, and that has to count for something.

..

His parents don't look at him, don't speak to him. Even Regulus refuses to make eye contact, and Sirius can only assume that their parents have gotten to him.

He allows the elf to lead him up to his room. "Master and Mistress are requesting that the traitor stay in his room," he says. "The traitor is not to come out."

"You can't be-"

But the door closes before he can finish his sentence.

Sirius angrily kicks his bed, letting out a yell.

It isn't fair. He hadn't asked to be in Gryffindor. The Sorting Hat had put him there! He shouldn't be punished for something he'd had no part in!

Defeated, he throws himself onto his bed.

He will not cry. He will not give them the satisfaction of hearing him break down.

But, Merlin! He wishes he could.

iv.

He's thirteen years old, and he can't help himself. He walks over to his brother with a small smile. "Reg! Hey, Reg!"

The eleven year old blushes, looking around at his friends who laugh and nudge him.

"Can I talk to you for a second?" Sirius asks.

Regulus sneers, spitting at Sirius' feet. "Piss off, traitor," he says.

"Reg, I'm your brother. You could at least-"

"I don't have a brother."

..

"Don't know why you're so broken up about it," James says, stretching lazily in his chair, feet propped on the table. "He seems like a pain in the arse."

"He's Sirius' family, James," Remus reminds him with a sigh. "Imagine how you'd feel."

"Fair point."

..

By some miracle, Sirius catches his brother alone. He grabs Regulus firmly by the shoulder, pushing him into an empty classroom. "We used to be friends, remember?"

Regulus shifts his weight from foot to foot, biting his lip and refusing to look his brother in the eye.

"What the hell happened? You won't talk to me anymore. You won't even look at me. Dammit, Reg, look at me!"

Regulus does, and Sirius almost wishes he hadn't. Before, around his friends, Regulus had managed to look so cold and indifferent. But now, alone, tears are swimming in the younger boy's eyes. "Do you know what they did to me?" he asks, voice breaking. "To make sure I didn't follow in your footsteps? They-"

But Regulus doesn't have to finish. Sirius remembers all too clearly the ways his parents would "watch out" for him. But to do that to Regulus?

Sirius holds him close.

"The Sorting Hat almost put me in Ravenclaw," Regulus admits, shaking against his brother's grip. "I begged it not to! I begged it to put me in Slytherin! I don't want to go home and get locked up like you."

Sirius feels his own tears spilling silently. "You did the right thing," he says. "It's okay. It's okay to hate me."

"That's the worst part. I don't hate you. I wish I could."

Sirius pulls away, brushing his thumb under Regulus' eyes, clearing away his brother's lingering tears. "Don't let your Housemates see you cry," he says quietly. "They don't seem like a forgiving bunch."

Regulus nods, sniffling.

v.

He's sixteen years old, and he hears the fighting. Fighting over him. Regulus defending him.

Sirius hears the unmistakable sound of a palm striking flesh, and he winces on his brother's behalf.

Regulus has always been the good son. Regulus has always been as close to perfect as anyone could be by their family's standards. If it hadn't been for Sirius, his parents would have never lifted a hand to his younger brother.

Sirius tosses his Transfiguration book against the wall before rubbing his temples.

His is fault. Everything is his fault.

..

He tucks his books, parchment, ink, and quills into a small bag.

Sirius wonders whatever had happened to Nadine. She had been such a kind woman. He doesn't think she would have ever been as cruel to him as his parents had.

His thighs twitch, remembering several well aimed blows from his father's wand because he had talked to Nadine. Maybe it had been worth the pain to have finally know what kindness is.

..

He doesn't bother folding his clothes. He just tosses them into his trunk, on top of his school supplies.

Sirius remembers his comic books. Tucked away, hidden, his special little secret.

He wonders if Evans has any comics. She seems the type, really. Maybe he'll ask her. And he won't have to worry about them being found, about them being reduced to ash.

..

He almost tucks the Gryffindor banner in his trunk among his things, but he stops himself.

His parents had locked him away in his room because of his House. He had become a prisoner in his own home, all because he had been different.

Sirius places the banner on the wall, casting a Permanent Sticking Charm. They had left him to rot in there. It seems only fair that they have something to remember him by.

..

Sirius is as careful and as quiet as he can be as he moves down the hallway.

"You're leaving."

Sirius turns, sighing. "Go to bed, Reg."

Regulus shakes his head. "No."

"Dammit, Regulus, I'm serious!" Sirius hisses.

Again, Regulus shakes his head. Stubborn bastard. "Don't leave me," he whispers. "Please."

Sirius groans, pinching the bridge of his nose.

Regulus, his final reason for leaving. Regulus, the boy who has been through hell for no reason. Regulus is pleading with him to stay, and, for one moment, Sirius almost considers it.

But Regulus steps closer, the light hitting his face and revealing the blossom of purple and blue under his right eye. He has the bruise because of Sirius, however indirectly.

He cannot stay. He cannot continue to fuel this fire, not when his brother's safety is at stake.

"Sirius, please."

Sirius closes his eyes. He wants to stay with Regulus. But he has to protect his little brother.

Without a word, without a goodbye, Sirius turns his back on Regulus and continues moving forward.

"I'm sorry," he whispers, knowing Regulus can no longer hear him.