Sirius walked home from James and his parents' place. He shoved his hands into his pockets, furiously. A cold wind blew, making Sirius shiver. He wished it would rain so instead of going home he could seek shelter. Anywhere but home. Anywhere but there.

Flashbacks and memories flooded into his head. The sting from every cut and bruise he'd received. The nasty hisses and growls to never leave. Crying, knowing that all this pain was inescapable. The pain of every time he'd been hit, and the mark it'd left. He hadn't told a soul about this, refusing to give into the weakness. He had to stay strong, right? Sirius wasn't weak. He could never be weak.

Maybe a part of it was his fault... he wasn't a good enough son, or even that he could have done better in life. If not for his recklessness and temper, he might've save his brother.

So many regrets, so little time to make it right.

Sirius hated when he was rash and tempered. He'd lashed out, accidentally swinging that punch. And his brother had taken the consequences for his actions.

His parents never loved him. His brother was the perfect child of the family. Sirius was the rebel, the one you watched out for. But Sirius loved his brother more than anything in the world. It was all his fault.

Regulus, he thought mournfully, I'm so sorry.

Even though he was in his late twenties, he still went to his parents' home. No one else knew about what happened there. No one should ever know. Why was he going there? He didn't need to. He could stay as far away from there as possible.

But no, his feet wouldn't stop. They wouldn't stop walking back there. Why? Did he want to see comforts of his brother? Did he want to punish himself for the pain he'd caused? For Regulus's passing? What did he want from that old place?

He reached the door, then put in the key. His hands lingered on the doorknob before turning it, relishing in the feeling of having just had dinner with James and his parents. His best friend, someone loved so much, but someone he would never be able to tell.

Sirius wasn't weak. He could handle this.

He turned the door open, and walked inside the Black Family house. His mother must've been awake, because he heard furious footsteps coming from the stairs. The angry clicking of heels only made him more defiant.

The house was filled with old looking furniture and paintings. The place reeked of his father's cologne and wine. They must've had a recent party here, as he could still smell the liquor in the air. The wood of the furniture was worn down, and the patterns of the pillows and couch were outdated by centuries. A lamp nearby lit up the room dimly,

"Where have you been?" she asked, a cold tone in her voice, "I can't believe this. You're always out of the house. Aren't you thankful for the fortune you live in?" she shook her head and roll her eyes, "You useless idiot of a son. You're always doing this. Couldn't you be more like your brother?"

Sirius said nothing. His heart hurt at the mention of his brother. He knew he was getting punished. But he didn't fight it. He would be strong. This was not a punishment, his mother would say, only a reminder that you should do better.

"I have to punish you, but how?" his mother's eyes glinted, a strange light in them, "You've been working at that bovine coffee shop haven't you?" she screamed in outrage, "With the Potters. I've told you, those are horrible and unclean people. You never listen!"  

She slapped him quickly, but not as hard she usually would. Sirius barely flinched. The pain stung, and he knew it would leave a bruise, but he could barely feel it as he tried to restrain tears of anguish and hurt. But he slowly filled with anger. No one could insult the Potters. They were kinder to him than his real parents ever actually were.

Sirius wasn't eighteen anymore, they couldn't do this to him, could they?

They were his parents, the ones who'd brought them into the world. Every time they'd hurt him in some way, they'd said it was just a bit of tough love. So he'd stayed. He'd returned. Because he couldn't exactly get his share of the money to start a new life.

Love wasn't supposed to leave scars, was it? Was love supposed to give you large bruises, ones that turned blue and black in moments? Was love supposed to have killed his brother?

Was that really what love was? Pain and suffering?

Sirius watched with hateful tears in his eyes as his mother made her way back up the stairs, glaring at him one last time. He walked to his room, his footsteps loud on the wooden floors. Salty tears began to fall, rolling down his cheeks as much as he tried to fight it. He didn't succeed.

Sirius wasn't weak. He could fight this and stay strong.

But somehow he still cried. Sirius' hands gripping his dresser to the point of his knuckles turning a very pale white. He cried, almost soundlessly. But his tears weren't in sadness or depression, it was anger. Fire shone in his eyes and he wanted to slap something. Sirius grit his teeth to keep from crying out in frustration.

He grabbed a pillow and threw it across the room. It bounced off the wall and fell to the floor. He shoved all the papers and books over the dresser, causing a loud crash to fill the room. Sirius' hands reached for something, anything, desperate to throw something out the window. His hands stumbled upon a picture. Of Regulus. Short black hair, with shining gray eyes. And him, they were laughing, happier than they'd ever been.

Sirius set that down on the dresser. Flashbacks flooded his mind. He pressed his hands to his ears trying to block out the sounds and voices in his mind. He shut his eyes, tears still flowing from them.

The accident... his brother. His little brother. All his fault. All Sirius' fault. It was always his fault.