Carve Me Open / r.l. + s.b. /

Fugitive

I ran away from myself,But I don't like to think about itI became someone elseWhich doesn't actually require a lot of thoughtJust a little noise and decayWell I'll tell you now, I can't waitSo sick being of somewhere that I can't standChipping away at the daysThink I'd be better off at a distant planet2000 light years away
I fell in love in the rain, but I forget about itI gave up all of my painWell I guess I don't really need itBeyond the seas and highwaysNone of the stars know my name'Cause I'm sick of being someone that I can't standChipping away at my brainThink I'd be better off at a distant planet2000 light years away

-via Current Joys, Alabama (Sirius's Theme)

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12 Grimmauld Place, December 1975

Walburga Alvah Black. That's what was written across her portrait frame in the north hallway. According to Orion's library, her name descended from German lineage, meaning "ruler of the fortress." Suiting, Sirius thought. She fulfilled that role quite well in his sixteen agonizing years on the planet. From bossing Kreacher around to whipping the pads of his fingers off, Walburga ran her house like a military base. However, Sirius thought her middle name revealed her true nature. Alvah. It was Hebrew, believe it or not, and it meant "evil." He could imagine Walburga and her cruelty in much more vivid detail than her ability to run a household while her husband rummaged away in his office.

She'd been stuffing her face with black pudding and stewed potatoes, not letting herself get a breath in before filling up on the next spoonful. For the first time in what Sirius considered a lifetime, Walburga had dressed up for an occasion. Of course, that occasion was to bless the newly wed couple, Narcissa and Lucius Malfoy, and accommodate her other little niece, Bella.

By dress up, Sirius meant that she'd managed to look half decent. Though he wondered why Walburga always saw fit to dress for a funeral. It was Christmas Eve, for Christ's sake. He looked up at the sky, sending a silent apology to the Big Man in the clouds. She had a floor length, three layered dress that was just as black as night, lace dawning upon the cuffs and neckline. He was sure that the prayer beads dangling from her wrist were more antique than anything else in that God forsaken house – he grimaced – and the crucifixion necklace was, honestly, a nice touch.

Sirius noticed that his cousin, Bellatrix, dawned similar attire. She decided that a simple black dress and leather corset was the perfect attire to celebrate their Lord and Savior that holiday evening, not bothering to remove her rather grotesque rings and other jewels that would most definitely make a Holy man uncomfortable. Bella had always been a bit unorthodox in her fashion; a bit more racy is what James would call it. Perhaps she considered it attractive. Hey, Sirius thought, to each his own.

Besides, Sirius wasn't one to talk. He considered ugly, orange sweaters and khaki pants on a tall and lanky Gryffindor quite attractive. Hell, he considered anything on Moony attractive from sweaters to dress robes, even his boxers. But Sirius wouldn't delve into that territory. He was Christian enough to respect Jesus on his own birthday night. He settled in his seat, pushing away thoughts of Remus and his skin, his breath, his laughter, his smile – everything that had to do with him. Thoughts like those were far too lewd for Christmas. Far, far too lewd.

Which was exactly what tempted his imagination to conjure more scenarios of Remus in different scandalous attire.

Get a grip, he scolded himself. You're acting like a horny teenager.