A/N: For the April Challenge at the Reviews Lounge. My first stab at Siri! Each new thingy separated by a line is a separated memory…
Dedication: Cuba (Cuban Sombrero Gal), who set up the challenge, co-runs the excellent C2 and forum, and dedicates too much of her stuff to me! (Plus, she is one of the best authors on here!)
As a kid, younger than five, really, Sirius had picked his mother daises when she was sick.
She'd taken one look at them and thrown them away.
That was his mother, for you.
His father had later found them in the garbage. When Sirius told him that Mummy had thrown them out, after he picked them for her, Orion smiled a little.
"Mummy doesn't believe in flowers, Sirius. You've got to remember that, all right? The best present you could give her is being a through-and-through Slytherin."
Sirius had resolved, right then and there, that he'd never be a through-and-through Slytherin.
When he'd gone to Hogwarts, hiss impetuous nature caused him to befriend James Potter. A blood-traitor.
He knew it would anger his parents. That's what he lived for—angering them was his life.
And then, James turned out to be a right great mate.
They'd met Peter next, contrary to popular belief.
"He seems…cool. He has potential," explained James to Sirius, and they'd befriended him, too. He was a respectable pureblood, but he didn't give a damn about blood status.
Remus was last. Always last. The three of them were all impetuous, really, so they'd gone up to him halfway through first year and asked why his mother always sick.
James had liked him immediately. Peter agreed, but Sirius knew there was something funky going on with him. He's the one who, in the end, found out his secret.
But rash James had decided to they'd become Animagi.
No wonder he and Sirius were so close.
Whimsical Lily Evans caught his fancy before James'. But the second he pointed her out to his friend, James had fallen, and hard.
He knew, then, that no way would he steal her away from James.
But when 'Whimsical Lily Evans' turned James down forty-seven times in two months, the two had decided she was more like, 'Arseface Lily Evans'. Well, he and Remus had.
Peter had simply laughed, and James had yelled.
Lily had heard.
She'd started to cry. "I hate you all!" she screamed at the three. And she'd rushed out.
"Crybaby," he'd started to mutter.
"Shut up, Sirius!" Remus said sharply, and left too.
"Well, so Peter…" Sirius had said.
"Oh, I'm glad I'm last," he huffed. And then Sirius was alone.
Quidditch had become James' and Sirius' obsession by the end of first year. When they'd tried out for the team, Sirius knew he was a born Beater.
James had made it. Sirius hadn't.
He harbored a secret hate for his friend from then on, but it disappeared the second he got on the team the next year.
The waiting was worth it. When he heard "Go, Sirius!" shouted from the stands, everything was worth it.
He pretended to be The Bad Boy around girls. He'd send them sexy smiles, speak in a deeper voice than his real one, and make them swoon every time.
But alone, or with his friends, he'd loose the bravado. When he was tired, his voice would crack. When he smiled, it was his usual wolfish grin. And no one swooned.
He needed to be his real self somewhere. At home—no, his house—it wasn't even worth it, and in school, he had to keep up the act.
And so his friends became his outlets. He told James everything. He and Peter did tons of things together. And he saved the best stories and jokes for Remus.
They did everything together.
And that's why it hurt so much when James began spending all his time with Lily when the two began to date.
He couldn't dance to save his life.
That's why, when he took girls on dates, he kissed her when the music began. He snogged her senseless, and then she didn't care about music or dancing.
It was a foolproof plan until Marlene McKinnon—technically an older woman, by a year and a half—and he had begun to date.
The music would play, and he'd lean forward to kiss her.
"Hey, let's dance!" she'd say instead, placing a hand on his chest to stop him.
It wasn't until he'd broken her leg that she gave up trying to make him dance in public.
When they'd broken up, she yelled. She'd screamed and fought and cried. "You need some gravity! Get your head back down to earth, you bastard! Not everything revolves around you. I don't care how many girls you have trailing after you, Sirius. You snog one—and I don't care if it was only once—and we are over! You knew that from the beginning! I wanted devotion! Commitment! And so we are over, forever and ever!"
And she'd stomped through the portrait hole, slamming it behind her.
The Fat Lady had glared at him. "Gravity, young man. That nice young lady—" (he'd snorted here. Her tattoos were not too nice) "—obviously gave her all to your relationship. I hear you kissed another woman? Now that, young man, is rude. Very rude." And she'd promptly fallen asleep.
Gravity, he'd thought. He had gravity! His feet were definitely walking on the floor. But he knew neither woman had meant that.
And from that day on, he'd tried. He'd tried for all womankind.
But it wasn't until Gideon and Fabian Prewett died, and Marlene needed condolence, that the two got back together.
And he'd wanted to marry her. Too bad Peter got in the way of everything.
He and James had learned to Apparate over the summer between sixth and seventh years. He'd been staying at the Potters', and he and James had practiced constantly in secret.
They'd learned, finally, and Apparated to Peter's small house. Using Side-Along, they got to Remus. "We can Evaporate!" shouted Sirius.
"It's Apparate," Remus had said. "And you were supposed to have learned last year."
"Shut up, Remus."
Every time he saw Regulus, he'd let out a not-so-silent guffaw.
The two had been best friends when they were younger. I mean, best friends. They were so incredibly close that Aunt Dru was worried that they were getting to depend on each other.
"Boys, you can only trust yourself, no one else. Including one another. And even your parents. Understand?" she'd said one day, when she was babysitting.
They'd looked at each other and guffawed.
But once Sirius got into Gryffindor, all was lost.
So he guffawed, in remembrance of that day.
He was never sure if his once-beloved brother ever saw the symbolism.
His motorbike was his obsession. When he'd gotten it, he'd freaked out.
His friends had laughed to no end.
It was his comfort when the three other Marauders tried to find out who the traitor was.
"It's Moony, Charlotte. I know it." Yes, he'd named her. His friends had laughed at that too, but it was a somber laugh.
"It's Padfoot, James. I'm sure of it," Remus had said one night, though he didn't sound too sure at all. Sirius had overheard, and went to Charlotte, but not without hearing his other friends' response.
"It. Is. Not. Sirius." Thank Merlin, Sirius had thought.
It. Was. Not. Him.
It was Remus, Sirius thought the whole time.
Until, that is, they were murdered.
He was an idiot. A goddamn idiot.
So he'd hunted his friend down, demanded to know how he could do it, half-mad already with grief.
"How could you kill Lily and James, Sirius?" Peter had yelled. "How?"
"You're no Gryffindor," Sirius had screamed.
"I thought we were friends, Sirius! What happened? How could you?" he'd asked, challenging him.
"You are no friend of mine!" he'd snapped.
Then the sidewalk blew up, and Peter was gone.
And he'd laughed, because there was nothing left to do. There was nothing left to say or do or even hope.
Hope was long gone by then.