The Boy Who Killed God {Sirius Black | Marauders Era Fanfiction}

The Marauders

OCTOBER 5, 1971

Sirius was exhausted by the time McGonagall dismissed him for the night, somewhere around eleven. More accurately, he felt like he'd gone about six rounds with an enraged hippogryph. His limbs felt like lead, his face was a mask of unshed tears and fury, and what was left of his sanity seeped out around round four. All he wanted to do was collapse face first in his bed, have a good cry, and never fucking wake up.

Unfortunately, Lily Evans seemed to have other plans. She was waiting for him, in the otherwise-empty common room, when he finally crawled through the portrait hole. Her face was diplomatically neutral as she stood and looked him up and down, but he saw it in her eyes all the same.

Merlin, he couldn't do this right now.

"Look, Evans, Snape started it. He's lucky he doesn't have a pretty little scar of his own, for saying that kind of shit to Remus. I'm not going to—"

She held up a hand and he stopped.

"This isn't about Snape." Lily drew her wand and muttered, "Muffliato."

They stared at each other for a long moment, neither of them really wanting to make the first move or give anything away. Eventually, Lily rolled her eyes and gestured to the couches. She sat down across from Sirius.

Merlin, whatever hope he'd had that she hadn't seen straight through his very soul evaporated on the spot. She knew.

"I've been researching—" She made a vague hand gesture at him "—this, you know."

"Oh?" His voice came out weak. Exhausted and noncommittal.

"After what you said when Malfoy cursed me, I had to."

Sirius scoffed. "Find anything interesting?"

Lily didn't bat an eye. "Show me your tattoo."

Fuck.

"Evans," he started, his voice cracking. "I don't—"

Her expression softened. "Sirius, I didn't mean to... But, Christ, I need to know. I think I can find a way to help both of us. Yes or no. Do you have a blood curse tattoo?"

"Yes." Sirius scrubbed his face, grateful for the small mercy that no tears had fallen.

"Where?"

"Above my heart," he whispered, absently rubbing the spot.

"And I'm assuming it's a family crest of some kind?"

"Something like that."

Lily nodded, thankfully not pressing more for specifics. "Does Narcissa have one too?"

Sirius grimaced. "Yes. As does every Black born in the past five generations. Even the Squibs. My great-uncle Marius went insane because of the blood curse. The magic was too strong and it was quite literally burning him alive. He had no magic of his own to counterbalance the force of the blood curse. He killed himself not long after he was disowned by his father."

"Jesus Christ," Lily muttered. "How old were you when they did this to you?"

"Eight."

"Shit. I'm sorry, Sirius."

"Why are you sorry?" he grumbled, indignant. "You didn't do anything, Evans."

Lily Evans gave him a withering glare. "No one should do that to a child. I don't care who you are or what kind of superiority complex you have. Putting a blood curse on a child is wrong, full stop."