Walburga Black was a terrible mother, but I've always found her relationship with Sirius very interesting. I also feel like they were very much alike, which is why they never got along. Anyway, this is what came about as a result of that idea swimming around in my skull.

Don't own anything.

She hated him. It was a simple fact. The sky was blue, the grass was green, and Walburga Black hated her eldest son.

In her eyes alone he was gorgeous. When she looked in the mirror every morning she admired her sharp cheekbones, thundering grey eyes, and the aristocracy bred into her. She had been made for royalty and so had her son.

Regulus had always looked too much like Orion. Like a Black, but not enough. They were too quiet, too subdued. It was in the way they held their shoulders just a little too low, and kept their voices soft and their eyes downcast.

Regulus's eyes had been blue.

Upon his birth, Sirius had been the apple of his mother's eye.

"He's gorgeous," she'd whispered, holding him close to her breast. "A true Black, through and through."

Orion had left her be, not one to spoil her moment. After all, it wasn't as if it were a moment they could have shared.

She had never been Mum or Mummy. Mother was the only title she would allow herself to be addressed by.

From the moment he could walk she'd known. His eyes had come alive with the possibility of freedom, but she had hoped to stamp that out quickly enough. This life was not about freedom, it was about doing the duty that had been assigned from birth. Everyone had a role to play, even those filthy muggles.

Oh, but his eyes. They were her own, and a small part of her hoped that they never dulled the same way hers had.

Regulus was her good boy. He always did what was expected of him, always spoke with respect and reverence. He was perfect. Walburga never could bring herself to love him quite as much.

As he grew, Sirius became even more stunning. His features sharpened like her own, but so did his words. His shoulders were held high like her own, but he did so in defiance.

Not so much as a small child. Only after he began his education and befriended blood-traitors and mudbloods. They had tainted her precious baby.

He had been born to be a king, but instead she'd gifted her second born with that name. He was named after the Scorcher, for that was what he had always been. From the moment he'd opened his eyes and smiled up at her, he'd scorched his way through her heart.

"Regulus has always been the favorite!" he'd screamed at her the summer before his third year. "You love him more, because he does everything he's told! Well, not me! I won't allow you to brainwash me the way you did him!"

Perhaps she'd been too hard on the boy, never coaxing him in with soft promises and gentle touches. But she was a firm believer that marble should be shaped roughly, all those rigid edges ground out with precision. He was supposed to be her masterpiece, her heir. She would not accept anything less than perfection.

Walburga would never admit how much she'd wanted to cry in that moment. Whether it was for the son she'd lost or the son she'd never quite wanted, she didn't know. If only he'd just listened a bit more, rebelled a bit less.

If only he had been anything but her son.

"Sirius is just too strong willed," Druella had commented over tea. "He's too outspoken. He couldn't have gotten that from his parents."

Walburga hadn't responded. Especially when Cygnus casted her a knowing look over his own cup. She'd been too much her father's daughter.

Sirius was too much his mother's son.

"But father please, I —"

"No!"

Tears streaked down her face. Her eyes burned.

"Why is it that you favor Cygnus and Alphard over me?" she'd demanded. "Is it that they are men and I am not?"

Pollux had delivered a swift blow across her face, leaving her cheek warm and no doubt, red.

"Know your place, Walburga!" he'd hissed. "It is time you learned that the world is not yours and that you cannot do or say whatever it is that you want."

With dead eyes she'd married Orion a week later.

Sirius always had one luxury she had not. His words held value. Hers were screams that everyone had ignored.

She began to hate him just a little after his fourteenth birthday. He would never be the son she'd wanted. And neither would Regulus.

She had the son who cursed her very breath and the son who hung on her every word. She never could decide which one she hated more in the end.

"You are so like your father," she'd whispered softly, adjusting Regulus's tie. It was a big day for the whole family. He would take his place in the Dark Lord's circle and restore the House of Black to its former glory.

Her younger son had given her a small smile, thinking her words were kind. She saw the weakness in him, the lack of resolve that characterized her husband. He wanted to believe in the cause. He wanted to be her son. She wished she could have let him go.

It should have been Sirius. With his sharp edges and steely resolve. But he'd tasted freedom and she had pushed too hard.

At Regulus's funeral she had cast him out. He was no longer a Black, not since he ran out on her the summer before his seventeenth birthday. Orion had left her to weep in solitude after she'd blasted him off the family tree.

It wasn't long after her second son had passed that her husband followed. She hadn't wept for either of them.

And she never could bring herself to feel proud when her son was carted away to Azkaban only two years later for the betrayal of the blood-traitor and his mudblood wife. If anything it felt like a new kind of betrayal. A coward was not the boy she'd raised. Nor was it the man she'd disowned.

She hated him. It was a simple fact. The sky was blue, the grass was green, and Walburga Black hated her eldest son.