Painted Scars // WOLFSTAR

Summer Break, 1972

Sirius crept deftly across the polished floors of the Black Manor and winced at a particularly loud creak in the wood. He'd avoided his parents so far, and he was attempting to get past his mother's office without her knowledge, but the rising of her voice told him that he had not succeeded.

"Sirius, step in here and sit down." Her voice was firm and Sirius felt his eyes slide shut. Taking in a breath, Sirius entered the room with a cower in his step and made for the chair in front of his mother's desk. He began to lower himself into his seat when she added, "Shut the door." Sirius paused briefly before lifting himself from his position and closing the door, going to sit down again in disbelief. The silence between the pair was terse; Walburga's hands were templed cruelly, and he was wise to keep the slouch out of his spine. "How was your year?"

This struck Sirius as odd, though he was not fool enough to believe she was asking out of the kindness of her heart. "It was alright," he began carefully. "There are a lot of kind people there." She tutted, sorting through pages of notes on her desk absently.

"Did you make any friends?" Sirius felt his blood run cold.

"Some." He couldn't let her know about James and Remus. A blood traitor and a half-blood as best friends weren't exactly her sorts, and though Sirius deemed himself an independent boy, she was still his Mother; she still had control over him. He gambled with the idea of letting her know about Peter and decided it was alright. The Pettigrews mostly kept to themselves–not seeming to have an opinion on blood either way–but at least he was pureblood, and maybe his mother would stop asking questions. "Peter Pettigrew, I'm sure you know his parents."

"I do. I didn't picture you making friends with someone so weak, though his name had come up when she told me about your friends." A crease formed between his brows at the odd statement, and she seemed to pick up on his confusion. "Bellatrix," she clarified, Sirius' breath catching as he realized what she had revealed.

Bellatrix was acting as Walburga's informant.

"Ah, you're ready to stop lying to me then," she said, a wicked glint in her eye. "How is it, being friends with the Potter boy?"

A swallow. "He's kind."

"Yes, you've mentioned. He's also a filthy traitor." Sirius clenched his fists against the material of his pants, attempting to bite back an indecent remark. If James were there now, he'd likely spoil his Mum's whole week with tooth-rotting kindness, so Sirius tried to do it the James way.

"I understand your concern," he started, "but really, the Potters aren't so bad! He's probably nothing like his parents, I mean, the topic of blood hasn't even come up once!" While true, there was not a single chance that James could hate a group of people for their blood.

"Right, and the red-headed Mudblood he has a crush on?" Sirius shut his eyes and dragged a hand across his face. He was going to kill Bellatrix. "You're going to stop being friends with Potter." Sirius whipped his head up at her.

"No." Absolutely not. He was never–in a million years–ever, going to stop being friends with James. His mother's upper lip curled.

"Try and tell me no again, Sirius Black, see what happens." But Sirius didn't care anymore; he wasn't going to promise his mother that he'd end the best friendship he'd ever have because he wasn't a stuck-up piece of shit.

"Sorry that not everyone's a blood supremacist!" In a fury, Walburga lifted her wand and swiped it down with force. Sirius could feel the skin of his cheek ripping apart; not deep enough to scar, but deep enough to hurt. It was a move she'd done countless times in the past, but even with time, it never hurt any less. He let out a strangled sound, hand coming up to meet the side of his face as he willed the brewing tears away.