Marc knocked lightly on the door of number 12, Grimmuald Place with the large bronze knocker, his overnight bag in his other hand. The door opened immediately, and Kreacher beckoned him inside the gloomy hallway. Marc noted that he was as ugly as he remembered from his childhood. The Black house had changed very litter too. There were a few ornaments that he did not recognise, but he had only stayed for a few days each summer holiday when he had been younger.

The wide entrance hall led oh to a large sweeping staircase, carpeted in deep red which contrasted nicely with the polished wooden floor. The family portraits were the same, as were the gold edged mirrors and heavy furniture.

A door on the left opened and Mrs Black swept out, fixing Marc with a cold smile and walking over to greet him. She was tall, beautiful, dressed in the finest, tailor-made robes of deep purple and as terrifying as he had always found here, and had changed very little in the many years since he had been to the house.

"Marcus, darling," she said, leaning in and pecking him once on each cheek. "You look so handsome. Just like your father. He must be so proud," she continued as Kreacher took his bag from him and scurried up the stairs with it. Mrs Black linked his arm with hers and led him into the drawing room. "A position in the German Ministry, wasn't it? Such an achievement. You remember Regulus?"

Marc followed her gaze to the plush sofa, where a teenaged boy sat, a Quidditch magazine in his hand. He lay it on the sofa and stood up to shake Marc's hand, smiling. "I haven't seen you in years!" he exclaimed, and Marc agreed with him, entering into the usual small talk.

"Orion is at work," said Mrs Black, perching on a chair by the window table and picking up a cup of tea, which she also offered to Marc, who declined. "He's working late. Are you hungry? We have eaten dinner already, but Kreacher has saved you some."

Marc shook his head, stifling a yawn. He had been travelling since early that morning and was very tired.

Mrs Black sensed this and suggested he go to bed, an idea he thankfully agreed to.

"Regulus, take him up," said Mrs Black sternly and wished Marc a good night.

Shutting the drawing door after them. Regulus began to lead the way up the stairs, feeling slightly uncomfortable in Marc's company as they hadn't met for a very long time.

"It was very kind of your parents to put me up for the night," said Marc, trying to make conversation. "How's Sirius? Is he here?"

Regulus glanced at him, unsure of what to say. He shrugged. "He's ok, I think. He's not in very much actually."

"Parties?" Marc asked jokingly, before realising he sounded like a patronising adult, and he was only three years older than Sirius, and four years older than Regulus.

Regulus shrugged again. "I don't really know. You might see him tomorrow morning at breakfast though."

They had reached one of the guest rooms by this point and Regulus opened the door, allowing Marc to step inside.

"Is this alright?" He asked.

Marc looked around the beautifully furnished bedroom, with a red colour scheme and mahogany furniture. His bag sat on the futon in front of the window. "It's great, thanks."

Regulus smiled. "Night then."

"Good night," Marc said, closing the door once Regulus had left.

He walked over to the window and pulled the heavy curtains shut. He then spent the next hour examining the room which including a well stocked bookshelf to amuse him.

When the grandfather clock on the landing chimed twelve o'clock, he was sitting back on his bed, reading. He had heard the family go to bed long before, as well as Orion arrive home a little later. So far though, he had not heard Orion go up to bed, as the family had to walk past his bedroom and up another smaller flight of stairs to their own floor. At five past twelve however, he decided that he should really go to bed if he wanted to stay awake in the meeting he had travelled from Berlin to London to attend. He collected his toiletry bag and slipped quietly out of his room to the bathroom along the hall. When he was done in there, he crept quietly back to his bedroom, not wanting to wake anyone or attract the attention of Orion Black. From what he remembered, he was not the type of mad who would take to being disturbed kindly. Suddenly, he froze as he heard the front door close gently and someone move across the entrance hall. Like him, the person was trying to be as quiet as possible. He could only be Sirius, Marc presumed. He stood with one hand on the doorknob, unsure whether to quickly go inside, or wait to meet Sirius whom he was curious about. He had heard his parents talking about Sirius, with nasty or snide remarks about how he had turned out and how bad Mr and Mrs Black were as parents.

However, his choice was decided for him as Sirius had already climbed up enough of the stairs to see him. He frowned, then realised who it was and walked over to Marc.

Sirius had changed a lot since Marc had last met him. He was much taller, almost Marc's height, and slim too. He always had been though. He had grown his hair out, and Marc noticed that it looked like it had bee treated with a straightening charm. And Sirius was no longer the obedient son he remembered him to be. Everything he wore, even the way he stood, almost seemed to defy his parents. Maybe Marc's parents were right? He wore skinny, dark blue Levis, pointy shoes and a checked shirt over a plain white t-shirt. Marc liked it. He swept his eyes over Sirius quickly though, taking all of this in and trying not to look too in awe. He also smelt the smoky smell, and realised that it wasn't just tobacco, a theory strengthened by Sirius' slightly glazed expression.

"Marc," he said, not attempting to shake his hand, but pointedly glanced him up and down. "You haven't changed." His voice was deeper and slightly slurred.

Marc wondered if he was stoned. "I wish I could say the same," he said jokingly.

Sirius smiled. "Only here tonight?"

Marc nodded, wondering if Sirius had even known he was coming.

"I'll see you later then," he said, beginning to walk past until a door below then opened and he froze.

"Sirius?" a man called up. Mr Black had heard them.

Sirius' demeanour changed instantly. He became alert and tense. "Shit," he swore quietly, turning back to stared pale-faced at the stairs.

"Sirius, come down here now," Mr Black said, not needing to shout to make himself heard in the silent house.

Sirius glanced at Marc quickly, before walking slowly down the stairs as though he dreaded meeting his father.

As Marc closed his own bedroom door behind him, he heard the study door below shut as well. He hoped he had not got Sirius into trouble, but was more preoccupied by Sirius' last words to him. I'll see you later then. What had he meant by that, Marc wondered, as he sat back down on his bed. Did Sirius actually want to see him later? Or did he mean tomorrow at breakfast?

Marc tried and failed to fall asleep, as he waited for the sound of Sirius to creep back past his bedroom door. It didn't come, and for a long time, all he could here were raised voices and the occasional loud thump or cry. He lay, thoroughly confused until he eventually heard someone, presumably Sirius, pass his bedroom door and pause, before continuing up the stairs.

Had he wanted to come in? Marc wondered, staring at the canopy over the four-poster bed. Should he see if he had got him into trouble? Marc decided this was a good idea, and got back out of bed, his heart beating nervously.

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Blood trickled from his nose, over his lip and down his chin in a steady drip. He stumbled down the landing and up the stairs to his bedroom, dazed and disorientated from the blows to the head. His breath came in short, shocked gasps as he fumbled with his bedroom door handle and pushed it open with his shoulder.

Regulus watched him shut the door from where he sat at this desk, still awake even at this late hour, his bedroom door opened onto the landing they shared.

Once shut into his room, Sirius gave a half sob or shuddery breath, leant back against the wall in the corner beside his door and slid to the floor. He covered his bloody mouth with his hands and stared ahead blankly.

In his room, Regulus had tried to return to his Potions essay but his mind wandered. He had first been distracted by the shouting echoing through the house from his Father's study. Then it was the occasional yelp which drew him away from his work. The familiar wave of nervousness spread slowly from his stomach and his hand shook slightly as he continued writing. And finally, as always, the looked up to see Sirius returning to his bedroom, bruised, cursed and bleeding. Quite often, he would not have returned from the night before and would have a hung over look about him anyway. This night, after Sirius had shut his bedroom door, a few minutes later Regulus had heard gentle footfalls on the stairs and saw Marc appear on the landing. He looked right and caught Regulus' eye. He quirked and eyebrow, shrugged and slipped into Sirius' room too. Regulus didn't know what to make of it.

Marc looked around the room, taking in the unmade silken sheets on the four-poster bed, the shelves of records and school books, the posters adorning the walls, the skateboard abandoned by the wardrobe door, the cigarettes on the bedside table and the abandoned essays on the desk. He couldn't see Sirius until a shaky breath drew his attention to his feet. There, Sirius sat huddled, his knees drawn up to his chin, kohl-rimmed eyes staring up at him.

"Holy shit Sirius," muttered Marc, falling to his knees beside him. "Your father?"

Sirius averted his eyes, staring at the space in front of him again. This was the only answer Marc needed. Pulling out his wand, he gently took hold of Sirius' jaw and pulled his head round to face him. The grey-circled eyes stared at him as he gently charmed the blood, which was now smeared across his face, off him. Marc dropped his wand to the floor and tucked a lock of Sirius' hair behind his ear, revealing a fresh bruise lining his cheekbone and continuing into his hairline.

Marc gently brushed his thumb along the bruise, being careful not to hurt him. He moved forward slightly, biting his lip. Sirius didn't break eye contact and swallowed as the stifling silence continued. Suddenly, Marc leant in and captured Sirius' lips with his own, his hand still in Sirius' hair.

Sirius didn't react until marc drew away. They both stared at each other until Sirius quickly leant back in and kissed Marc again, this time harder and deeper. He wrapped his hand around Marc's neck, pulling him closer as the kiss deepened.

Marc sat back, pulling Sirius with him until they were lying back on the rug where Marc rolled him over to be on top. Still kissing, he slipped his hands under Sirius' top and brushed them up his body, before pulling the top over his head. They stopped kissing as Marc threw the top away, before glancing down at Sirius' body.

"Fuck, Sirius," he murmured. Sirius' body was littered with blue bruising.

Sirius glanced down too and then up at Marc again. "Ignore that," he muttered, pulling Marc down on him again, one hand around his neck and the other on his waist.

But Marc suddenly knelt up, pulling Sirius up with him and onto the bed where they pushed the sheets away as they spread out. Sirius lay back against the pillows, pulling Marc down on him, fumbling with his belt. Marc stroked the younger boys hair gently, pulling away to gaze at him. Sirius lifted his gritty grey eyes to meet Marcs, but looked away, uncomfortably with the sudden scrutiny. He was in control during sex. This – anything deeper – he was not.

Marc smiled. "You're beautiful," he murmured, briefly touching the bruise on Sirius' cheek, a sad edge creeping over his face.

Sirius shifted, his face suddenly blank. "Stop it. No. I'm not," he said, aggravated. "I hate it when people say that to me."

Marc frowned. "When have people said that to you before?" He felt faintly jealous, but knew he had no reason to.

Again Sirius shifted, his hands dropping from Marc's hips to the bed sheets. "They… just have," he said, scowling up at Marc. "And they just want a fuck," he added angrily, suddenly pushing Marc away and sitting up.

"Sirius, stop," Marc grabbing his arm and pulling him back a little. "I don't want to just fuck you. I won't. Just lie down." He nodded his head to the bed, smiling tentatively.

Sirius stared at him for a moment, but lay back down against Marc, his head resting against his bare chest. Sirius could hear Marc's heartbeat and the warmth radiating from him. Marc pulled the sheets over them and settled down against Sirius, stroking his hair.

"Don't fuck with me," whispered Sirius, only half awake. "Don't be like all the others".

Marc frowned sadly at this before drifting off to sleep too.

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A/N This was just a short 'scene' which popped into my head one day. Please review and tell me what you think. xxx