Disclaimer: The brilliant JKR has all the rights. I just like to fill in the blanks...

Once you asked me if my parents were abusive. I told you the truth - that no, they'd never hit me or hexed me or anything out of the ordinary. You looked really relieved and changed the subject immediately. You never liked being serious; it scared you. I don't think even you knew how much it scared you. I just pick up on things like that. It was why you were always making jokes and playing pranks. Anyway, it was the end of fifth year when you asked me. At the time I just put it out of my mind. Looking back, I think maybe someone put you up to it. Remus, maybe, or Lily. It's the kind of thing other people did, remember? Cause me and you were brothers and everyone knew it. I was the one who Lily would go to when you stormed out of your little flat. What did we do wrong, Sirius? Why can't we get along? And Regulus went to you when he wanted to talk to me, in the later years. Always. I never would go see him, though, even when I told you I did. I regret that now. I hated my brother, but that wasn't his fault; it was only because I hated anything and everything connected to my home.

What my parents did to me, it wasn't abuse. I have no scars from them. They never used the Cruciatus Curse on me to keep me in line like some parents did. My dad never punched me in the face, my mum never screamed at me for hours on end. It's stupid of me to even care. I mean, I hated them anyway, so it wasn't like I wanted them to shower me with love and affection. It just... it was kind of weird, the way they ignored me. It started in first year, when I was Sorted into Gryffindor. You and Remus both got letters once a week, and Peter got them once a month or so. My parents didn't write to me once. Maybe you didn't notice the way I looked at your letters, jealous. Maybe you did and just didn't want to think about it. I must have written my parents a hundred letters asking why, addressed to each of them separately. Later I found out they forbade Regulus from writing to me, too.

That summer they only spoke to me when necessary, or to ground me for doing something wrong. I only cried one time about it - the first day back from Hogwarts. I didn't cry about them ever again. In fact, that was the last time I cried, at least until the day of your funeral. But that's not the point. The point is, it got worse. I got through the summer by writing my friends all the time - you, Remus, and Peter, mostly. I also wrote Lily a few times (even though we weren't good friends yet), Frank, Marlene, and my cousin Alice. Some of you wrote back. Some didn't. So I just counted down the days to September 1st and waited for you and the others to write.

You know in second year how I went home for holidays? (Maybe not. Maybe it wasn't a big deal to anyone but me.) I told you I wanted to, that my family had this thing about Christmas. I lied. I wasn't allowed to stay at Hogwarts over the holidays. Regulus told me my parents wanted me to come home over Christmas and Easter. So I did. I still sort of hoped I could win their approval. I was wrong. I don't know why they bothered bringing me home if they weren't going to talk to me more than once a day. I never told you how bad it was. Once I said something to Remus about how they didn't pay much attention to me. He got really mad and was talking about going to Dumbledore, so I played it down and told him not to.

That was the only year I went home for the holidays. That summer, they didn't talk to me. At all. Not one word. Not even the insults my mother had used the summer before, or the sneers and mocking laughter of my father. I tried to talk to them a couple times. I mean, come on. I was thirteen. I wanted my parents to love me, even though I wasn't sure I loved them. They didn't answer me, so I again stuck to letters and sometimes conversations with my brother.

The next year, yet again, Regulus told me to come home for the holidays. I told him to shove it. He shrugged and left me alone. My reasoning was, if they don't want to talk to me, I won't talk to them. It worked. They didn't talk to me. I can count on one hand the number of words I've exchanged with either of them in the twenty-plus years since then. The problem at that point was, they had the power. That summer they told Regulus - while I was listening - not to talk to me or answer me no matter what. I knew he would listen, even though he didn't want to. I already said I pick up on things like that. He wanted to disobey and talk to me, but he was much too scared and much too ambitious. That command carried over to all summers. So I had, literally, no one to speak to over those hot, sweaty, ugly months. They didn't let me visit my friends, either.

In fourth year, I acted out more than I ever had before. I needed to get out all my energy and anger and voice before summer came around. I know you and the others noticed the difference, but you never said anything. Probably figured it was puberty. And life went on. I was an arrogant little prick during the school year and a scared kid during the summer, until finally I was angry enough to leave.

So the long and short of it, James, is that I'm sticking to the answer I gave you so long ago. They didn't abuse me. We just didn't exist for each other. I only sort of lied to you. I don't know why I even wanted to talk about this again, why I felt like I had to explain myself to you. I don't like to think about it. And I came to your memorial to say good-bye. You know I would've gone to the funeral, mate. If they had let me, I would've been here every day to keep this place nice. I would've kept Harry and taken care of him. They told me murderers don't get to go to funerals, though. I probably shouldn't be here even now anyway. They must be expecting it. But I couldn't not come. You didn't... I can't... You were my brother, and I'm sorry you're dead, and I'm sorry I lied, and that Harry has to live such a hard life. And that Peter betrayed you. That I killed you by being too scared. I'm sorry you didn't get to be with Lily and Harry for longer.

I'm sorry, and I'm going to do the only thing I can to fix this.

I'm going to kill Peter.

A/N: Definitely not what I meant to write, I'll tell you that much. I meant to write a short drabble where Sirius talked about his parents ignoring him. Instead, this happened... well, R&R anyway, please, haha. And drop in on my other stories if you really want. (Shameless self-advertising, I know.) I really would like some reviews for Breathing Firewhiskey and In Passing. Thanks(: