Intended

[twenty three]

The corridors are usually crowded in the mornings, as everyone makes their way to the first lesson of the day. Sirius walks to class slowly, James once again by his side, Peter trailing them. Usually, they are four, but Lupin has gone off to visit his mother again… apparently, the poor woman is quite ill because he has been away for about five days now, and Sirius is surprised to find himself a bit envious of the fact that Lupin actually cares about his mother so much.

But even if Sirius wanted to care, he wouldn't; it still hurts too much to think of her and her insults.

He wonders how many Blacks have walked on these stones, and how many of them were in Slytherin. He still hears the Sorting Hat's words in his ears, words that were uttered over a year ago but he recalls almost every night, when he wonders why he was sorted into Gryffindor.

‘I'm not really that different from Regulus, am I?' he thinks. There are certain ideals that he doesn't agree with, that he never really did like… but hadn't he gone along with all of it for years, before he came to Hogwarts, before he was told that years of training to be a Slytherin were quite useless because he wasn't destined for the house, no matter what anyone thought?

‘ Hasn't Regulus done the same?' he thinks, then shakes his head because he knows that Regulus enjoys everything, that he has always liked the Black traditions because his acceptance bought him the attention he was desperate for- whereas he, Sirius, has merely tolerated t hem for lack of an alternative. He wonders if he would have continued tolerating them if he hadn't been given the alternative.

Someone shoves past Sirius roughly, knocking him out of his reverie. He stumbles, catching himself just before he hits the floor. He can hear James snarl next to him as he gets to his feet, and he looks up with narrowed eyes at the boy who is now trying to creep up on a red-haired girl talking with her friends. The boy's wand is out, and even as Sirius springs to his feet, the wand is drawn back in preparation for casting a spell. The boy cocks his wrist to aim, pale fingers gripping the wand, and Sirius darts forward, growling. He feels the rush of air beside him as well as footsteps following and he reaches out his hand to grab the wand, just as the boy begins the incantation that would have released a spell on the girl.

The hex is never finished, though. Sirius catches the wand in one hand and the back of the boy's robes in the other. He tugs the wand away from the boy's grasp, pocketing it and avoiding one of his flailing arms at the same time. He spins the boy around to look at him and glares into the pale face. His expression contorts in disgust as he recognizes the hooked nose and the greasy hair and he pushes him away forcefully.

He is suddenly reminded of everything he wants- no, everything he once wanted to be. But instead of jealousy, he feels ashamed that he ever wanted to be a mean, spiteful Slytherin like Severus Snape.

‘Typical… Snape. Creeping up on someone when their back is turned… is that all you Slytherins do?'

Snape sneers up at Sirius from where he had landed, on the stone floor of the corridor. ‘Typical… Black. Mindless heroics for the unworthy… just like all Gryffindors,' he replies in a tone that's cold and sarcastic. ‘I don't recall the Mudblood asking for your help, blood traitor-‘

This time, Sirius can feel the blood rushing to his face and he grabs Snape's wand from his pocket. He points it towards Snape's neck, a low snarl coming from his throat and his blood pounding through his veins as he forces himself to stay in control and not hex Snape on the spot. From the corner of his eye he can see Peter trying to restrain James, who now looks positively murderous.

Snape doesn't look surprised, but instead he glares at Sirius. His words are slow and calculated and he smirks as he talks.

‘But of course… how could I forget? That's why you're in Gryffindor… and Regulus is in Slytherin. He understands the superiority, the honor of being pure of blood.'

‘You sound like my cousin. Has Bellatrix been brainwashing you too?'

‘At least I don't sound like you. You should listen to yourself… Bellatrix was right. You're just as low as the Muggle-lovers and Mudbloods you associate with-‘

Sirius lunges for the boy on the floor, his arms outstretched and he doesn't care if anyone's watching because he can feel even more fury rising within him. All the pain he has felt, all his anger towards his family bubbles up; he cannot, does not care who is in front of him, he just wants to lash out and hurt them because he is tired of being insulted. The wand has dropped from his grasp and he feels his fingers closing around Snape's neck, but he can't see anything; such is his rage, that it blinds him. He cannot hear, cannot see, cannot think …

‘ Petrificus Totalus!' Snape gasps out, grabbing his wand off the floor and shoving it into Sirius's chest. Sirius feels his arms snapping to his sides, his legs locking themselves together and his body falling to the floor. He wants to shout, to scream out for someone to catch Snape as the boy runs but his teeth feel as if they've been glued together and he cannot move a muscle. Laughter rings in his ears, and even though he can see James furiously starting after Snape as Peter tries to hold him back and undo the spell at the same time, stammering all the while, he feels a hopelessness take form in his chest, feeding on his hate. He forces himself to ignore it, to focus on something else, but now there is nothing except the horrible laughter as more people join in. He wants to clap his hands over his ears, to yell at everyone to stop laughing, to run, but he can't, and he is forced to listen to the taunts that rise over him.

‘A Gryffindor wouldn't run away from a few names,' he thinks suddenly, and it is as if someone has lit a fire in his mind, a fire that spreads warmth through his whole body. He still can't move, but now the jeers seem less painful. He can't deny that he feels nothing; the words do hurt him, they hurt his pride, but now he can hear how weak some of the retorts are, how some people only throw half-hearted insults at him so they aren't left behind by the crowd. He knows that if he could, he would smile at how pathetic some of the abuses hurled at him are. He lies there and tolerates the mocking, and tells himself that it is not because he has no choice, but because he can , he can be brave and take the verbal abuse because he is a Gryffindor and he can take anything.

A silence floats over the crowd, and Sirius wonders what is happening. He tries to crane his neck to see before realizing that he can't move anything, and he resigns himself to looking at the expressions on James and Peter's faces at they stare at something… some one… walking up the corridor with swift footsteps.

‘Mr. Potter! And you, Mr. Pettigrew! What is the meaning of- oh! Finite Incantatem!'

Sirius sits up and stretches his arms. He has a cramp in his neck and when he tries to stand he finds his legs giving way under him and he grabs at James to stop himself from falling before looking up into the face of a very angry Professor McGonagall.

‘Would someone here please tell me what happened?' she demands, her eyebrows furrowing. She stares right at Sirius and he opens his mouth to speak, but then shuts it immediately. James nudges him in the side. From somewhere on his right, he hears Peter pipe up, and he nudges James back in a signal to make the boy shut up before he says too much.

‘P-p-professor, it was Severus Snape! He attacked Sirius, he- ow!'

‘Well, Mr. Black? Is Mr. Pettigrew telling the truth?'

Sirius nods at her. ‘Yes, Professor,' he replies dully, knowing what she will ask next.

‘But why would Mr. Snape attack you, Mr. Black? Was there something else… some provocation on your behalf, perhaps?'

This time, James speaks up and Sirius can hear the trembling in his voice, a trembling that comes from trying to control one's anger and stop oneself from lashing out at another. He tries to control himself similarly, tries to still the throbbing in his temples and calm himself, but again, he can hear Snape's words echoing in his ears, taunting him, mocking him…

‘Professor, Snape was going to hex someone and Sirius tried to stop him! And then he provoked Sirius, and…'

‘That is quite enough! I have just received a very shaken Mr. Snape in my office, telling me that he was set upon by Mr. Black…'

‘He's a liar!' Sirius roars, forgetting himself temporarily in his rage. He hears his voice echo in the corridor, and he balls his hands up into fists out of instinct. There is complete silence from everyone, including Professor McGonagall, who stares at him with a shocked expression. He breathes in deeply, feeling his face color as he realizes that everyone is now staring at him edgily, but he refuses to back down, instead concentrating on the sound of his own breaths to try and force himself to talk calmly, to reason.

‘He's a liar,' Sirius says heavily, his voice quieter than before. His eyes burn as he stares defiantly at Professor McGonagall, his whole stance tense, pleading with her to believe him. Daring her to believe him. Forcing her to believe him.

‘Then would you care to enlighten me on what did happen here?' she says, her tone slightly softer than before, and Sirius already knows that he's won. He would dearly love to tell the whole story, and he knows that there are many around him who would dearly love to hear it too, but he stops himself and shakes his head silently. He can see James gaping at him like he's gone mad and Peter muttering under his breath, but he doesn't care- he has his reasons for not speaking.

To tell would be to lower himself to Snape's level, and Sirius does not want to be like Snape in any way. He feels disgust rising in him at just the thought of the boy and he makes a silent vow to himself to never go snivelling to anyone because it is not worth his pride to have someone solve his problems for him.

He can see Professor McGonagall going over everything in her mind, her eyes darting about as if she's arranging everything that she's heard on invisible blackboards around her. He bites his lip, his hands dropping to his sides as he stares up at her, watching her think, meeting her eyes with a hopeful and earnest glance.

‘Fine. I shall inform Mr. Snape's Head of House of this little incident. I am sure that he will be… interested in his activities,' she says curtly to Sirius. ‘Oh, and Black?'

‘Yes, Professor?'

‘Ten house points from Gryffindor, and I expect you to report to me for a detention, tomorrow night after dinner. While I don't doubt that you were acting in the interests of your fellow students, I cannot tolerate such displays in the school corridors.'

With that, she turns and walks away, leaving the corridor abuzz with talking as the students walk to their classes. James lets out a groan and stares after the teacher's retreating back, shaking his fist angrily before he turns on Sirius.

‘What's wrong with you? You should have told her what really happened!'

Sirius shoots him a scathing look. ‘I don't tattle, James. Snivelling's for greasy gits like Severus Snape.'

‘ Snivellus Snape,' Peter interjects, and James roars with laughter. Sirius glances at him, letting a smile rise to his lips.

‘Couldn't have said it better myself, Peter,' he chuckles, slapping him on the back. The three of them walk down the corridor, talking animatedly, and Sirius can actually feel any annoyance he had over being bested by Snape in a corridor battle fading away as he lets himself get lost in the continuous babble between his friends. He grins good-naturedly, even as James makes a jibe at him; now that everything is over, he finds every comment rather funny.

His stomach gives a pleasant jolt when he realizes this.

Before, he would have preferred to wallow in misery over being humiliated rather than join in jesting with others… but he finds that he prefers the laughter that makes his soul lift, over the self-pitying thoughts he sometimes turns to when he is alone. Even if a few of the jokes happen to be at his own expense.

‘Courage is facing everything as it comes,' he muses as Peter slyly teases him about being chivalrous, and James mock-swoons before running away. Their mirth is infectious, and soon he is laughing like he's never laughed before, laughing until his sides hurt.

He is laughing, for the first time, like a twelve-year old boy who couldn't care about anything.

And suddenly, Sirius finds that he doesn't really care at all about the detention, or the lost house points, or even the fact that he's probably earned himself a lifelong enemy in the form of Severus Snape…

Right now, he feels that he has earned his place with his friends… that he has earned his rightful place in Gryffindor.

*