Disclaimer: I do not own the Marauders. However much I wish otherwise, I never have and never will.

One, Two

By Nightheartbattles

One, two

A beating from you

Sirius bit his lip to keep himself from crying out in pain. He felt a tear leak from his right eye and down into a gash across his cheek. He hissed as the salty liquid hit the wound. He could feel his front teeth piercing his skin; he could feel the blood trickling down the length of his body; he could feel the tears threatening to spill. But most of all, he could feel the glass.

The sixteen-year-old hung from the ceiling by chains wrapped around his wrists. His eyes were closed in an attempt to block out the sneers on the faces of those slashing at him with knives, lashing at him with whips, and piercing his half-naked body with glass. He didn't want to see the expressions on the faces of his cousins, his aunts, his uncles, his mother, his father... and his brother. His family. No, not his family. They had stopped being his family a long time ago. He had a new family now. He'd gained it when he was eleven. He didn't need his parents, or his stuck-up, good-for-nothing brother. He had the Marauders.

Three, four

Another few more

Sirius landed on the ground with a thud. He had stayed tied to the ceiling for a good three hours after his so-called-family had left. He was sure his wrists were dislocated, if not completely shattered. Footsteps resounded through the hall as someone neared him. He knew they must have let him down with magic. The bleeding slowly raised his head, his shaggy black hair falling into his eyes in a pitiful way, to see his mother leering at him, glaring straight into his eyes. He could have sworn he would have seen right to her soul through her deep black pupils - except she didn't have one. Not in Sirius's opinion anyway. The way she looked at him would have worried Sirius - but right now, he couldn't care less. He sat in silence as she ranted on about how they'd been kind enough not to set the weapons used against him on fire, and he hadn't even had the decency to scream for their entertainment. He didn't even whimper when she repeatedly used the Cruciatus curse on him, nor shout when she used multiple other curses to cause him the most pain possible. It was only when she stopped in the middle of casting a spell that he began to feel wary.

Five, six

I'm sick of your tricks

The malicious glint in Sirius's mother's eyes frightened him. The last time he'd seen that look, someone had died. This time he knew it would be him.

"Get up," the evil witch commanded. Sirius shakily rose to his feet, drowsy from the major loss of blood. She raised her wand to his chest, then cast a simple spell - that narrowly missed the top of his head as he instinctively ducked.

"Who's a good boy?" Mrs Black Heart (as Sirius liked to call her) cooed mockingly. "You're a good boy!" For some reason, this annoyed Sirius more than the beatings. Maybe it was because one of his best friends was a werewolf. Maybe it was because his animagus was a dog, and he didn't want someone so evil to be forever linked in his mind to something he loved so much. Whatever the reason, Sirius snapped.

Seven, eight

Running out the gate

"Shut up!" he yelled. "Just SHUT UP!"

His mother looked shocked that he'd dared disrespect her.

"I'm sick of this!" he continued. "I'm sick of this house, I'm sick of the Dark, and I'm sick to death of the way you constantly treat me LIKE I'M A PIECE OF SLIME ON THE BOTTOM OF YOUR SHOE!"

Sirius could have sworn that it was only his mother's shock that was keeping him alive at that point. But he didn't care. He continued with his rant, finally glad for a chance to say to his mother what he'd wanted to say since he'd been introduced to the pureblood politics, "I DON'T CARE WHO'S A PUREBLOOD AND WHO'S NOT!" he shouted. "IT DOESN'T MAKE A DIFFERENCE ANYWAY! ONE OF MY BEST FRIENDS IS MUGGLEBORN, AND SHE'S THE BEST IN OUR YEAR! HELL, I WOULDN'T CARE IF ONE OF MY BEST FRIENDS WAS HALF-GIANT OR A WEREWOLF!" Although two of my friends fit into one of those categories each, he added on to himself silently. "I'M TIRED OF CONSTANTLY HEARING 'PUREBLOOD THIS' AND 'PUREBLOOD THAT' AND 'THE NOBLE HOUSE OF BLACK' WHEN IT DOESN'T ACTUALLY MATTER ONE TEENSY-WEENSY, FLOBBERWORM-SIZED LITTLE BIT!" Suddenly, the teen's voice became scarily calm, and he stepped towards his mother menacingly.

"I'm leaving," he said. "And I'm not coming back." He took another step forward, thankful that his mother was still in shock. "I do not care if you blast me off the family tree. At least then I can take on any last name I want, and I won't constantly be connected to this filthy family of mine, if that's what you call it. Families don't yell at each other for seemingly no reason. Families don't beat up another family member because of his House. And families certainly do not torture and kill those with different beliefs." Sirius took a deep breath and took another step towards his mother before continuing. "I know I'm the white sheep of this family. Andy was the same, and I'm glad I became a caring rebel like her, rather than a disgusting piece of aristocratic filth like you. She was more a mother to me than you'll ever be," he spat. "Again, I don't care if you blast me off the family tree. Because from today on, I am not your son. I am no longer Sirius Orion Black. I am now, and will always be, Padfoot, the white sheep."

With that, Sirius stormed out the door, attempting to ignore the cries of "Sirius, don't leave!" from his baby brother that caused his heart to melt.

"I'm sorry, Reggie," he called, turning his head to look at his little brother. "Promise me you'll stay who you are! Be you, not the you they think you should be! Don't let them change you!"

Sirius knew he saw his brother nod before he easily slipped into the large black dog that was Padfoot.

Nine, ten

Never going back again

As Sirius trotted down Grimmauld Place, his mind began to fill with worried thoughts. Where would he go? How would he eat? Would his mother report him to the Ministry? Should he live as a dog, or live as a human? What would happen to he tell anyone of his beatings? That brought on more worries. Would he be able to get healed? Or, suppose the wounds got infected? What would he do then? Or maybe, just maybe, he'd die of blood loss before any of these other worries really mattered. Nevertheless, he decided he couldn't heal himself while panicking, so he laid down on a small patch of grass under a tree to answer the questions loitering around his mind. The simplest question to answer: would his mother report him? No, she wouldn't. If she did, she'd have to admit that her son was committing crimes under her nose, and she'd never done anything about it. Another easy question: should he tell anyone about his beatings? The answer to that was no as well. He didn't particularly want his friends to find out - his family could be outright dangerous, and who knew what the Marauders would do? He couldn't tell any muggles, either. They'd report it to their police, and then they'd end up dead. Besides, a lot of his injuries were magic-inflicted, and he didn't know how he'd explain that. Question three: should he live as a human, or live as a dog? Well, that was simple enough. If he could find somewhere to live as a human, he'd do so. Otherwise he'd live as a dog. As a dog, he may be able to reach the RSPCA, and get adopted out to a kind family. If not, he could easily live off street scraps and mice as a dog. As a human... not so much. Once again, Sirius found himself thanking the Marauders for deciding to become Animagi. If not for that, he'd probably be dead by now already. But what about Regulus? Might he be blamed for Sirius's emancipation? Probably not, Sirius thought bitterly. He always was the favourite. He knew the young boy would follow his advice: don't let them change you. Be who you are, not who they want you to be. So there was just one more problem. Sirius knew he could only be healed if he found somewhere to stay. So that left one more question: where could he go?

Eleven, twelve

Where do I go? Who do I tell?

Sirius had been walking through London for about eight hours, and he knew he was dying. He had known he was dying from the moment his family members had stopped beating him. No one could suffer through such abuse and blood loss and live to tell the tale. Only a few more minutes now, he thought, no trace of fear or bitterness in his mind. That scared him. Was he really willing to die? Well, it would free him from the pain his wounds caused him. No! The dog shook his head. He couldn't die now! His friends would be so worried, and no one would think to look for Padfoot, rather than Sirius! Except perhaps James, the dying teen thought. A spark of hope flitted through his mind. James! Looking around, Sirius realised his friend's house was around here somewhere. Yes! It was just across the street from where he was laying. He figured out he must have been subconsciously making his way towards the house, his only safe haven besides Hogwarts. His molten silver-blue eyes lit up before the flame of hope spluttered out. He knew he wouldn't make it. He didn't have the strength. He didn't even know if he had the will. That thought really scared him. Suddenly the front door to the Potters' house opened, and a sixteen-year-old boy with messy, untameable black hair, hazel eyes and glasses stepped outside. Recognising his pack mate, Sirius barked once, hoping it would capture Prongs' attention. Luckily for him, it did.

"Padfoot?" the boy asked incredulously before running across the road and scooping the dying dog into his arms. Relaxed by the touch of his best friend, Padfoot morphed back into Sirius. James stopped, frozen in his tracks. Man, Sirius was light! James couldn't believe the sight of his mangled friend's chest, torso and head, easy to see now that it wasn't covered with fur. Realising that the teenager had lost a lot of blood, James began to hurry back across the street towards the house.

"Don't... bother..." Sirius coughed weakly.

"What?" James asked, shocked.

"You don't have to run," Sirius replied. "I'm going to die anyway."

"Sirius!" James cried, tears now threatening to spill down his face. "Don't talk like that, you're going to be fine." They had now reached the house, and James stepped across the threshold yelling, "MUM! DAD! REMUS! PETER! SIRIUS IS HERE! AND HE'S GOING TO DIE IF YOU DON'T COME FAST!" James didn't bother to blink back the onslaught of tears as four sets of footsteps came rushing towards him.

Mr and Mrs Potter took one look at Sirius before snatching him from James and rushing him to Mrs Potter's personal hospital. They hooked the boy up to an IV and fed him multiple of blood-replenishing potions as they bandaged up his wounds.

"Guys," Sirius croaked, his voice no louder than a whisper.

"Yes?" the three whispered back.

"I love you guys."

They smiled weakly at him.

"And here." Sirius pulled something out of his pocket. "That's my will, if I die. I've had it on me for a month now, just in case. If I die, know this... you guys were the best thing that ever happened to me."

Ignoring his friends protests about his death, Sirius lay silently, happy to know that, if he did die, the four got to spend one last moment as Messrs Moony, Wormtail, Padfoot and Prongs, before the Marauders were simply Moony, Wormtail, and Prongs, with only the memory of Padfoot to hold close to their hearts forever.