So, I finally finished this young Remus. I was thinking about how he perhaps disliked himself so much even if he didn't truly understand what was wrong with him at first, and that perhaps, he didn't like himself because he's the reason his mother is especially anxious the days close to the full moons, and that even if she and her husband try not to show it, they're scared of him, and that fear is somehow, breaking their own little family, even if they try to fake nothing is happening for Remus' sake, but Remus, even if he's between 6-8 years, he knows it, and he hates it, hates being the reason his parents fight, and hates being the reason why his mother cries at night.
Or idk, I'm just overthinking about my favorite and he's just a silly weird guy. 😮💨
Ah, it's funny how my drawings are quite different between the ones I do with my graphic tablet and my phone, lol.
So, I have a streak of drawings without backgrounds that are sooo "simple", which, I'm happy, because usually I rarely did anything than flat backgrounds. I really want to improve that before I start college again (this Thursday.) 😮💨
Soo, another Moony! I tried other techniques I wanted to practice from a while, I liked the result, actually. Still fighting with making scars though, they're more difficult than I thought, but not as difficult as making eyes with two different colours. 💀
So, yesterday I downloaded CSP in my computer, just to play with the free version of it bc I never used other program than Medibang. However, when I finished doodling around, I discovered I had to pay to save the drawing, lol.
Anyway, I screenshot the drawings I did. Nothing would have stopped me to save my little Severus. 😈
The children will never know
How the ocean used to flow
They'll never miss the whales
They'll never believe the tales
But I will remember, I will tell
Of all that lived and their great farewell
So, I wanted to keep drawing HP stuff. I tried to keep doing a bit more detailed drawings, and not flat backgrounds, though I don't know how much of my creativity and patience will keep going. I'm lazy, I'm sorry.
However, this drawing reminded me to Call Me By Your Name aesthetic, I dunno why.
summary: (young!sirius black angst) - before a chance at running away, 16 year old sirius carried a storm that constantly brewed inside him, but it was one piercing remark from Walburga that finally made it boil over.
author’s note: english unfortunately is my first language, i’m just used to writing more descriptive stories than ones with dialogue. so please lmk how this is with kind words. thank you <3
word count: 2.8k words
! content warnings: lot of angst, hurt, mentions of inflicted harm but no actual content, slight comfort towards the end, i mean it’s about the Blacks so ofc it’s depressing
・。・。・。・。・。・。・。・。・。・。・。・。・
Toujours Pur.
The most ancient and noble house, defined by rigid pureblood values that seeped into the confines of the house walls.
Sirius loathed it, explicably. Of course he had, and it wasn’t just because he no longer aligned with the crude values set out for him, but also the words that came along with it.
It was the summer of 1976, and he was sat at the lavish wooden table. The legs with runes dug into his mind like they were carved just to mock him.
The table stretched endlessly, its polished surface always cold beneath their hands. It could accommodate up to twenty guests whenever the Blacks pleased — but even when every chair was filled, Sirius felt the weight of loneliness more keenly than when it sat empty.
Besides that, he despised having to sit with the house of Blacks. Walburga and Orion sat rigid with their chins held high, chewing with a quiet deliberate defiance, while Regulus merely spared a glance at Sirius before carefully bringing a piece of roast pheasant to his lips.
The dark green tapestry was draped onto the walls, his own face staring back with a sneer, like a silent reminder he could never live up to their legacy. In front of the walls lined delicate fine china in cupboards that were forbidden to be touched or used, unless it was Salazar Slytherin himself who was dining.
Kreacher floated pieces of silverware, so polished that the gleaming mirrors had caught every flicker of Sirius’ anger whenever he was at the table.
“Elbows off-” Walburga had snipped in from across him.
“But it’s quite nice like this, comfortable.” Sirius was quicker, meeting her eyes with a sliver of a smirk.
He leaned back in his velvet chair, letting it tip back while he finally lifted his elbows off, just to put his arms behind his head.
Walburga’s eyes narrowed instantly. “Do not interrupt me. You will sit properly, or you will leave the table hungry.” There was no drawn out scolding, just icy correction towards Sirius, who met it with a simple shrug and that infuriating grin.
He kept tipping his seat back, causing as much irritation as possible. That’s what Sirius Black was best known for anyway.
Orion pierced a piece of parsnip with his silver fork in immaculate precision, pausing briefly to see the look on Sirius’ face with a levelled stare, before he took a slow bite.
Kreacher dragged his feet along the wooden flooring in little mutters, “Stupid filthy little Black…pathetic…ruining Master’s chair…”
“Oh shut it! You little-” Sirius started, watching the creature sneer, before he disappeared with a pop.
“Sirius!” Walburga glared so sharply at him that he swore a vein was pulsing on her forehead. Sirius could imagine it popping, and he had to hold in his breath to stop himself from snorting.
Just when he was about to verbalise something so cruelly irritating, his body snapped forward. “Bloody!-” he blurted out as the chair fixed itself with a small thump. Walburga set her wand down.
“…Hell, woman.” Sirius finished his sentence with a mutter, looking down at his exquisitely roasted game bird.
“You dare to defy me in this household?!” Walburga’s voice struck the dining room so loudly, that Orion almost choked on his piece of mashed potato, clearing his throat with a small hum.
“I didn’t defy you.” Sirius spat back, like he always did, but didn’t meet her eyes. In truth, he couldn’t. “I just didn’t feel like sitting like everyone else.” He mumbled and took a glance at Regulus, who looked down at his goblet without a word.
It was like Sirius was silently asking for help, but it never came from his brother. He was meant to face things alone, and alone he did.
Walburga gripped her fork so tightly that it bent slightly, and she spoke again, lowly. “Seven slashes. Tonight.” She then looked back at her food with strange calmness. “Speak again, and it will double. Understood, Sirius?”
Sirius clenched his jaw. He glared up at her, wondering how it was ever possible for a parent to be so cruel. He didn’t dare to speak again, because as reckless as Sirius was, he knew what those cuts felt like. The ones from before stung across his calves in a sore reminder.
“Fine.” He managed to say back, unable to obey silence, as he picked at his stupid parsnips that tasted like a stale carrot trampled on by a niffler.
Orion this time, gave a sharp glare, enough for Sirius to fully quiet down as he averted his gaze. He wished for one of Remus’ fags right about now — anything to get him to forget this absurdity of this dinner.
“Regulus?” Walburga spoke with such calm and the ends of her lips curled up — like the mere concept of his name, sparked perfection to her.
Sirius loathed it, obviously, exhaling sharply through his nose as he watched Regulus quirk his head up immediately into a slow nod.
“Yes, Mother?” Regulus spoke levelly.
“I heard you have passed your Potions test with ease.” She said as she cut into the bird. “And not just passed, Professor Slughorn has told me you’ve received the highest he had ever seen. Even higher than Severus.” She exclaimed with a certain twinge of delight, as if it were even possible to exude any other tone besides monotonic.
Regulus gave another nod, and Sirius gave the most drawn out eye roll, combined with a sigh. Walburga didn’t even spare a glance at him, too indulged with what it seemed like, her only son.
“That’s right, Mother. It was….simple to say the least.” Sirius finally met his brother’s eyes for a moment, and noticed the slightest movement to his lips.
Regulus was…smirking? Sirius raised a brow, going back to his food before he remembered exactly what happened in that hall.
Oh yeah, how could he forget? That very day, James had insisted on a simple prank, just to cause enough chaos. It started with dungbombs under every students’ seats, all but Regulus’s. Sirius had argued with James on it, and didn’t list the reason why.
As much as he loathed his baby brother for being everything he wasn’t, he couldn’t bring himself to trouble him — perhaps because he knew someone had to continue living up to his parents’ expectations, especially when Sirius had no way out for him.
Though, the look on Snivellus’ face in the Great Hall had sparked so much laughter between James and Sirius, that he now had to dig his fingers into his palm to stop himself from bursting out again at the thought.
Orion then proudly chimed in, a smug look on his face.
“Of course it was simple, son. I would expect nothing less than from a Black.” He raised his goblet to Regulus, before taking a sip.
“Indeed. Though I cannot say the same about you.” Walburga spoke immediately, and her eyes landed back on Sirius. “Participating in such useless endeavours. What shame you bring onto us, Sirius.”
“Well, someone has to be the disappointment.” Sirius spoke back with his mouth full, completely on purpose as a smug look appeared on his face.
“It is truly a wonder how you’ve turned out.” She cut in with brash disapproval. “And all because of those filthy blood traitor Potters.” She let out a bitter laugh, and that’s when Sirius’ smirk dropped.
What made it worse, was that Orion had chuckled alongside with her. Sirius’ fist clenched around his fork, creating indents right into his palm. This was a common occurrence when they spoke of James, Sirius knew it was. He knew it was a way to rile him up, and he had to fight it before his impulses took the better of him.
“Oh yes, crass little boy-”
“Better than you’ve ever been.” Sirius snapped before Orion could even finish, his voice low but shaking.
To talk about himself was one thing, and a thing Sirius could handle. But to talk about his best friend? That was asking for a death wish. That was asking for the place to be burned down with them in it.
“And yet you measure yourself against worthless muggle-loving boys. How fitting.” Walburga said flatly, sipping her goblet.
She had retorted back with an insult just like Sirius had. They were similar in that way, and Sirius loathed the idea of a comparison with her at all. Even with the anger seething off of him and his bitter response, they continued like nothing. They always did.
“He is a true disgrace to pureblood lineage. Just another loud mouth fool-”
“Oh we’re back to that? Thought you’d surprise me with a new insult this year.” Sirius interrupted again with a mocking tilt to his head and let out a bitter scoff.
“Surprise you?” Walburga’s brow quirked up highly, her voice unnaturally calm. “Very well then. Fourteen slashes tonight.”
Sirius scoffed, his arms crossed as he leaned back in his chair. He couldn’t care less at this point. Seven wasn’t that much less than fourteen when you’ve been struck with more in the past month.
But what ticked off Sirius, was that Walburga couldn’t seem to stop. As soon as she opened her mouth, Sirius’ hands balled into tight fists in anticipation.
“And to think about that wretched scarred half-”
Scarred. That was it. Sirius’ vision tunneled.
The words were still forming when his chair screeched back. Her mouth kept moving with sharp little shapes, but all Sirius could hear was blood roaring in his ears.
“What the fuck did you just call him?” He seethed lowly, almost steady, but his chest felt like it was going to split with how quickly he was at his feet.
A pause. Walburga’s eyes narrowed and she tilted her head, not to mock, but out of curiousity. Perhaps to her, it was intriguing to see a string tugged at Sirius, to be so hung up on a halfblood with sandy scars that lined his face.
“How dare you use that lang-”
“I SAID- what the FUCK did you just say about him?!” It came out as a snarl, and even Regulus gave the slightest flinch of his shoulders. “Don’t you ever say that about my friends! They’ve been better than you ever pretended to be!”
Sirius could feel the heat on every surface of his skin, stinging. His sight was blinded by flecks of white and black, fizzling like smoke in a warning. His chair scraped even more behind him, biting into the wooden floor like it was bracing itself.
And Walburga? her smile was tight, poisoned. She stood up slowly.
And that made Sirius’ world spin. His wand was in his hand in a swift movement. He knew he couldn’t use it. Knew the Trace would scorch him, but he didn’t care. Couldn’t care.
Walburga didn’t move back. She didn’t even blink, and her sick smile remained. “Try it.” She breathed. “I dare you.”
The air in the room wrapped around Sirius’ neck. It was choking him with a squeeze, heavy with the smell of candle smoke and the stink of their rot. His hand holding the wand shook from vexation, his ribs feeling far too tight to even take a breath.
Somewhere deep within Sirius, a thought broke the surface: If I stay here another second, I’ll kill them.
The chair behind him toppled as he suddenly spun toward the door, shoving it so harshly that the frame rattled, and stormed down the hall.
He could hear the cutlery clinking in the distance, chairs scraping, but he lost all conscious. He was already up the stairs, his boots thudding on the wood — loud, heavy, like thunder.
Jacket. Boots. Wand. That’s all he needed.
The bedroom door slammed open. The Black family tree leered down, eyes stitched in gold thread, all of them sneering as Sirius tore open the drawers. Clothes came out in fistfuls, some hitting the bag, and others huddled on the ground.
His fingers shook as he stood in front of the wardrobe and yanked on the closet doors, picking up a pair of boots with laces that dangled like veins. He threw them on top in his bag, before hearing the smallest of footsteps behind him.
“Merlin, Kreacher, I swear to fuck-” Sirius spun, ready to snarl — and stopped.
Regulus stood near the doorframe solemnly.
“Here to rat me out?” Sirius muttered, his back turned to the mess, shoving certain pictures and assortments away.
No answer came. Just the soft creak of the floorboards under his brother’s weight.
Regulus scanned Sirius with watchful eyes, stood exactly behind the doorway into his room — never daring to step inside it, but he lingered, like he couldn’t exactly let go.
“Will you come back?”
The words landed in him like a thrown knife. Silent and quick at first, then hot and painful. Sirius’ hands stilled over his drawer. The answer was no. It had always been no — but saying it would mean another cut between them. He had made too many already. His head dipped, his vision starting to blur.
The heavy guilt of leaving Regulus reeled Sirius in. He could’ve saved him, they could’ve ran away. He had chances, chances that were now fizzling out of his hands. Even then, he imagined it anyway — dragging Regulus with him. James would be laughing, trying to rope him into Quidditch. Regulus would scoff and refuse out of pride that curled in his lip. Sirius would’ve nudged his shoulder until he gave in. And maybe, Regulus would’ve won like he always did.
For a second, it felt real. Sirius believed it all.
His knuckles turned a blaring white with how hard he gripped his drawer, before he let out a soft breath, his shoulders slumping.
Sirius nodded to himself with a swallow and turned, his eyes still flickered down. “Listen…Why don’t you come with-”
The floorboard creaked again, and Sirius glanced at the doorway. Empty.
Salty hot tears stung at his face in a stream before he could stop them. That had been the last cut between them, and there was no going back.
Heavy footsteps echoed downstairs, and Sirius wiped the tears with the back of his hand, zipping up and slinging the bag over his shoulder. He slipped out his bedroom window, climbing down on the makeshift rope ladder he had made for those nights where he craved fresh air.
He stormed out onto the London streets, the strange and quiet air curling into the black sky. If he didn’t know where he was headed, perhaps he wouldn’t have walked with such determination. How lucky he was, that he had found a new home already in a state like this.
With a bit of sweat and anguish, Sirius was there, right outside the Potters’ door with a deep breath. He gave it a few knocks. Some shuffling was barely heard before the door creaked open — a boy stood there with unruly black straight hair, and a pair of slightly skewed glasses.
“Heard your parents needed a handsome son.” Sirius flashed a crooked grin, tired, bag slung over one shoulder.
James rubbed his eyes behind his glasses, squinting.
“Twat…it’s midnight.”
“Brilliant.” Sirius strode in like he owned the place and shouldered right past James, the bag hitting him square in the chest with a soft ‘oof’.
He could hear distant movement coming from the stairs, and Euphemia Potter appeared at the landing, frantically tying her robe.
“Sirius?” She said with a little exasperated laugh. “My dear, what are you doing— It’s well past midnight!”
His grin softened and he let his shoulders drop, stepping forward to wrap his arms around her. She kissed his hair a couple of times, which only made Sirius’ cheeks flush dizzily.
“So I’ve been told.” He nodded off to James.
Sirius wasn’t asked why he was here, and he chose to shrug it off anyway. It wasn’t a conversation he was ready to have now, but the Potters’ already knew that. They always knew, and so Euphemia just kissed the top of his head again.
“Well, James’ room then. Don’t stay up too late, you two.” She said before she yawned and made her way back upstairs.
James sighed and Sirius glanced at him with a quirk of his lips. Here he was, finally in a place where he belonged — and someone stubborn enough to adore him.
“Don’t look at me like that.” James grumbled as Sirius slung an arm around his shoulders with that same look.
“What?”
“It’s too late for your bloody antics.”
Sirius laughed, a real one he hadn’t had in ages. “Think it’s too late to adopt another son then?”
As they crept up the stairs, James pretended like he didn’t want Sirius tagging along. Yet, he took a breath and forced a reluctant smile — one that quietly warmed Sirius’ heart.
It was funny to draw Sirius with the image of apparently, Severus' child actor. In theory, I would have drawn Severus, bc he's hot, he's an ugly pretty man, if you know what I mean, yet, when I was sketching, all I could think about was Sirius. So, here he is.
I'm re-reading Harry Potter since book one, I'm already in the fourth book, The Order Of The Phoenix, in a month. It's funny, because I've never read so many books in a month. 😮💨
So, I was reading the Supergirl comic (before the SM movie) and well, I fell for Kara. SHE'S SO GORGEOUS IN THAT COMIC. Plus, Bilquis Evely art is so precious that I couldn't help but feel utterly in love with the comic.
In a resume, read the comic. You'll probably love it and want to have it. ♡
Ah, I had a crush for her after Black Widow movie, I still had it though, I never drew her before. I must say she's even cooler in comics, my ase queen. ♡
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