Warning: Yeah, so there aren't that many changes. However, since I went back and rewrote parts of these last five chapters, there are some changes. Most notably, I got rid of Quentin in chapter two, and Sirius decided to run away, and being the brilliant planner that he is, did it in his underwear before turning into Padfoot. And yes, I'm nuts. I'm quite comfortable in my insanity, thanks for asking.

A/N: Um, yeah…Did I ever mention that I don't own HP?

Chapter Five

"Enervate!"

Sirius came up kicking. Even under the best of circumstances, he wouldn't have reacted well to waking up in pain and under the inspection of three adults. These were not the best of circumstances and, since the first thing his eyes flew open to see was an angry looking Malfoy, Sirius felt the first spurts of panic wind up through his chest.

Since he caught sight of Harry out of the corner of his eye, Sirius managed to keep himself from hyperventilating on the spot. Whatever else the bloke might be, Sirius was banking on him being one of those classic do-gooders. Bit like the headmaster, only like a gazillion years younger. After all, it wasn't like Harry had been required to release him from the table, or take him to an infirmary, or look after him in any way, shape or form.

The way Sirius had it figured, he was doing pretty good. He hadn't done anyone, himself included, any irreparable damage despite the fact that he was laid out barebacked on the floor in his underwear, bandages around him and burn exposed while three rather intimidating looking men hovered over him like Grim Reapers with wands. They'd at least moved out of the way the moment he snapped awake, giving him some room. All things considered, the situation could be a lot worse, he tried to convince himself as he took a few deep gulps of air.

"So kid," Sirius focused his attention back on the scowling Malfoy, "how did you get the burn?" The bloke asked, gesturing to Sirius's exposed and vulnerable chest as he invaded Sirius's personal space.

Silly question. How did he get the burn? Isn't this what all families did on their vacations? Sirius was all ready to write his "how I spent the summer" essay. And then he was going to find Snape and skip through a field of daisies with the bloke.

He smacked away Malfoy's outstretched arm. Sirius knew that Malfoy knew exactly how he'd gotten it. He was probably here to finish the job. Couldn't have him haunting the family tree the way Uncle Alphard did.

Reggie had almost failed his third year Transfiguration class. Bella was waiting for a wedding present. And dear, lovely Narcissa was looking to have her first baby.

Families helped each other out. There were sacrifices to be made for the prosperity of the clan. There were traditions to be upheld for the integrity of the name. No one member was more important than the whole. And well, really, some were more expendable than others.

Sirius tried struggling to a sitting position, wincing as muscles he didn't even know he had, ached. "Well, are you going to answer the question?" Malfoy demanded, pulling Sirius's attention back into the present as the bloke put a hand on his shoulder and shoved him back down to the cold floor. Because, obviously, it didn't matter what he thought. Or whether or not he actually wanted to answer the question.

As if, just because he was a half grown kid, his own opinions—hell, his own fucking life—didn't mean a goddamned thing. And maybe that was true. Maybe he was just a waste of space and that the biggest contribution he'd ever be able to make to anyone would be to sacrifice everything that made him who he was.

But was it really too much to ask to be given a choice in the matter? He strained once more, struggling to get up from under Malfoy's grip. Malfoy, however, didn't seem to be in any mood to back down, and instead of releasing Sirius's shoulder, the bloke's fingers dug in deeper slightly, cutting in slightly to the edge of one of the ridiculous curly-cues that was now etched into Sirius's chest.

And that, Sirius decided blindly as he swung his fist, was too much, even for him. If the Malfoy family wanted a blasted baby, they could do it the way nature had originally intended. Or, they could sacrifice his dear little brother. But they weren't getting him. That was his choice, and he didn't particularly care if they liked it much or not. He'd found a way to escape the ritual once, and he'd come up with another if he damn well had to.

There was a grim satisfaction to the crunching sound his fist made as it impacted with Malfoy's nose and the squeal of pain the pointy bastard gave. However, as he worked himself to a sitting position, he could see the error of his split second decision. Three to one were not good odds. Even less when the three in question had wands and he was unarmed.

He could feel his heart sink even as it beat hard against his chest. Fuck. Getting detentions during the middle of the school year was one thing. While Sirius probably wouldn't have trusted anyone other than the marauders any farther than he could toss them, fact of the matter was that they were there.

And as for right now? For all he knew, there wasn't anyone in this wing, let alone on the floor.

There were a lot of times in his life when he'd felt helpless. Numerous times in his own home, in his own bedroom, and even a couple of times in his own dorm room at Hogwarts. But he'd at least known what to expect from those attacks and those people.

Dear not-so-old Uncle Harry was holding back a laugh at the expression on Malfoy's disgruntled face, but Sirius didn't feel in the least bit comforted by that. As it was, he could feel the panic building again. He wasn't going back home. He wasn't letting them finish what she'd started.

"Leave it to Malfoy," Harry added cheerfully to the situation, throwing a wink in Sirius's direction. As far as Sirius was concerned, the bloke could go stuff himself. No adult ever did anything without an ulterior motive. Even Dumbledore played puppeteer with the children in his care. Chances were, even this do-gooder wanted something out of him. With an offer to live with him, what exactly was in it for Scarface? Sirius wasn't going to be anyone's house elf. Or catamite. Maybe that was exactly the pay off. Siphon off the magic for his mother in the Black family name, and get a slave for life.

"Harry," the oldest of the three admonished lightly. There was something familiar about him, too, Sirius decided, as he narrowed his eyes, really taking in the gent for the first time. Sirius had been more concerned with this Harry and Malfoy because they were louder, more forthright. This older bloke hid in the shadows. Waited things out. Watched.

He reminded Sirius of his father. Waiting in the wings, just watching and lulling Sirius into a false sense of security before going in for the strike. As his mother loved to brag at dinner parties, his father was a coiled serpent waiting cautiously and patiently for the perfect moment to move in for the kill.

Of course, Remus was the same. But Remus was a kid, not to mention one of his best mates. Remus had reasons for being like he was. None of them had anything to do with waiting for someone else to slip up and everything to do with not slipping up himself. Since Sirius sincerely doubted that any of these three blokes were worried about slipping up in front of a half grown kid like him, the old bloke definitely fit in with his mind's description of his father.

"Kid, what's your name?" Harry asked, rather casually as he twirled his wand in his hand. Sirius swallowed down the shortness in breath at the casual taunting of power and the reminder that they held all of it while he had none whatsoever.

"Sirius," he managed, unable to keep the anger out of his own voice. "But you already know that."

"Look, no one's going to do anything to you here," the green-eyed bloke spoke calmly, but Sirius didn't feel calmed. So they wouldn't harm him here at this school. There were dozens of other places to finish a ritual or dump a body. What was he, some little snot-nosed first year that didn't know a blasted thing? He'd been playing these fucked up word games for years.

"He's not going to be your best mate just because you say so." Sirius swung his gaze abruptly over to where Malfoy was holding his nose delicately in his hand while scowling at them all. Sirius decided then and there that he wasn't getting to know any of these blokes.

"I'm not trying to be his best mate," Harry looked mildly offended by the comment and Sirius had a second's sense of humor at the accusation itself. "I'm trying to get him to tell the truth so I know what we're up against." Unfortunately the second was over all too shortly. He wasn't a person to them. Hell, sometimes Sirius was fairly convinced he wasn't a person to anyone other than the marauders. And sometimes, late at night behind the curtains of his bed, he wondered if maybe his friends weren't the ones who were wrong. Maybe he was just currency to be cashed in by the highest bidder.

"Whatever. You're always trying to make friends with all the sodding brats. Bloody waste of time," Malfoy scoffed.

"You can be replaced, you know." Harry's eyes narrowed slightly, as the bloke tightened his grip on his wand. Sirius wasn't entirely sure why, but it was that expression—that stance—that laid to rest any overt plans of rebellion he might have been harboring against the bloke. Subversion it was.

"Right, like you'd sack me," Malfoy retorted in a nasal voice. "Who would teach your Potions, then? There aren't enough Galleons in the world to tempt Severus back to the job."

"You aren't the only person on the planet besides Snape with an aptitude for Potions, you git."

Severus Snape? Teach potions? What in the name of hell were they talking about? Feeling increasingly uneasy, Sirius tired as discreetly as possible to back away from the group as a whole. Unfortunately, the old chap pinned him with a gaze, and Sirius froze.

"Now children, do you think maybe we could stay on topic?" He was good, Sirius would have to give him credit for that. Even despite the fact that the bloke had turned to address Malfoy and Harry, Sirius could still feel the weight of his attention. If he even tried to make a run for it, Sirius was sure that this bloke wouldn't let him get too terribly far.

"He started it, Remus."

"Remus?" The words though just popped out of his mouth. How common a name could Remus possibly be? Sirius had to admit, as he shifted his attention back to the old bloke, that there was a bit of a resemblance.

"Remus Lupin," the bloke offered along with a hand to shake. Sirius ignored it in favor of trying to keep from physically shaking off the raised hairs on the back of his neck. "Who are you?"

Who was he? He was someone who was very sorry he'd ever woken up, that was who he was. Why the fuck did they keep asking this bloody question? Who the fuck were they? "You are not Remus Lupin," he bit back angrily. He could hear the dull roar in his ears, but he held his breath anyway. He refused to let them see just how much this was getting to him.

"It's the name my mother gave me," the crafty bastard offered with a seemingly apologetic smile. Sirius wasn't fooled for a second. "What's your name?"

"Sirius Black," he retorted back, blinking hard as he tried to keep the spots from dancing in front of his eyes.

"The hell it is," Harry bit out, looking as angry as Sirius felt.

"It's the name my mother gave me," Sirius offered back, mockingly.

"Listen, you sodding brat, come clean with us or I'll personally get the vertasium out of my stores and pour it down your bleeding throat. You can either be honest now of your own free will, or we'll make you be honest," Malfoy interrupted whatever response Harry or the supposed Remus might have offered.

Those were choices? Tell them the truth and not have them believe him or get that vile potion poured down his throat so that he could tell the truth and have them still not believe him? Fuck them. Why was it his word that was always questioned? For that matter, what business of theirs was any of it?

But then again, when had it ever mattered what he wanted?

He could hear his own stunted breaths now as he gave in to the hysterical laughter that had been threatening to come out of his chest for a while now. There wasn't a blessed thing he could do to stop them anyway. They had wands, he didn't. They were adults, he was just a snot-nosed teenager. They'd march him right home, regardless of how he felt. Or barring that, they'd pick up where she'd left off.

He wasn't a person, he was just a commodity. Heavens knew why they wanted him in the first place. It seemed that everyone was always telling him he was damaged goods, anyways.

"Shit, he's having a panic attack. Remus, cast a calming charm, would you?" Sirius felt hands on his shoulders and then a hand rubbing his back in slow circles. His skin crawled for a moment at Harry's intrusion into his personal space.

"It's not working."

Sirius laughed harder at that, even as his eyes teared and he sucked in breaths desperately. Calming charms never worked on him. He was immune, and he probably would have rubbed it in their fucking noses if he'd been able.

But like most panic attacks, he had to just wait this one out and hope for the best. Surprisingly, the adults surrounding him seemed content to do the same. He'd expected at least a couple of disparaging remarks from them, Malfoy at the very least, but they let him panic in silence.

By the time his breathing had returned to normal and the bird rattling around in his chest had flown, he was exhausted. And in a world of pain. The burn itched even as it stung like a bitch. His muscles ached, and turning into Padfoot had drained him.

"I'll take him up to the tower and we can all sit down and talk this out in the light of day tomorrow." Sirius glanced up at Harry, trying to decide if he gave a damn any more. "There's no one up there at the moment. Mach's bunking with Trevor in the dungeons. I'll keep a watch over, er," Harry shot him an uncertain glance, "Sirius."

"Joy," Malfoy said flatly.

"You're going to have your hands full," Remus added with a resigned shake of his head. "Call us if you need help."

"Sure," Harry returned much too quickly for Sirius to ever think that the bloke would ever cash in on that offer. "Up we go," he added, hauling Sirius to his feet.

Up he went.