these dark dials [open]

[seriouslysirius]

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Sirius kicked the dirt, watching a small cloud of black dust and rubble rise from the ground at the collision of his heavy boot in it. He frowned at the dust cloud, not realizing he’d been frowning at most of the things that crossed his path for the last eight hours. He frowned at his breakfast this morning, frowned at the books and parchment and quills he had in front of him during lessons, frowned at students that tried to stop and talk to him in the corridors, grunting and walking away without a word, and he even frowned at Professor McGonagall when she called out his name in the corridors and asked where she could find Mr.Potter. Sirius just glared ominously at her and walked past, his shoulders hunched, his long black hair falling moodily in his face, and his hands angrily jammed into his front pockets, twisted in two visible tight fists. He was about to tell her that she should ask Evans for James because he was always trotting after her these days, he was also about to tell her that he hadn’t his nose permanently stuck to Potter’s ass all friggin day so how was he supposed to know? But instead, opted to just walk away leaving a surprised McGonogall stare and call after him “Mr.Black! Mr.Black! I demand an answer!”

Sod Mr.Black. Mr.Black was his father. His cold, heart of stone father, hell bent on his purist theories and sick fascination with Dark Arts. Sirius scowled even more. He didn’t want to be associated, or called anything like that man. Sirius was nothing like him. He didn’t want to be. He would never be like that. It just made his mood fouler, as though as it wasn’t bad enough already.

Sirius needed to be on his own. And since he wasn’t the library sort, he decided to take a long walk out. He didn’t care where, or planned where he was going. He just wanted to put one foot after another, listening to nothing but the crunch of his heavy footfalls, heavier than usual as he threw them rather roughly with intent, he wanted to get all his.. all his frustration … out of his system.

He just walked, walked and walked, turning direction whenever he caught sight of an approaching figure or hint of someone nearby. If someone had been spying on the small dot of Sirius Black from the top of the towers, and kept a good mark on him, they would have seen him do nothing but walk aimlessly wherever his foot took him, and doing a sharp turn the other way whenever someone was about to come too close to his path. He was aimlessly zig zagging the Hogwarts grounds. It wasn’t because he was afraid of company, or that he had no one to hang around with, because let’s face it, Sirius Black was one of the most popular guys around Hogwarts and everyone would drop and leave what they’re doing to spend some time in his company, taste what it’s like to hang around cool and popular people and feel important like a mini celebrity for an hour or two. There were too many of those people, and Sirius didn’t feel to put up with them at the moment. They were just anonymous faces to him, and he didn’t feel like he could fulfill their expectations of the charming, famous Sirius Black. He was in too a foul mood to. He should hang out with someone he knew, like his friends than, you say? Oh, but that was exactly why he was in this foul mood, his friends.

Ever since that stupid dance, things had changed. At the memory, Sirius pushed the crumpled sleeves of his shirt in annoyance back up his elbows. He should have never gone to that dance, he should have sat his ass at the Gryffindor common room that night, and let the dance go on without him, than none of the present mess would have happened. All this because he had invited Remus to the dance so the Marauders could be all together but James never even presented his ass. If James had been there, or Sirius hadn't got drunk, or Remus hadn't got drunk, or if they have just ignored and never went to the effing dance, Remus wouldn't be upset at him, and neither would James be be annoyed with him, and tell him he was abandoning his friends too much to hang around with Pandorah. What was wrong with him hanging around Pandorah? She was.. failry nice, or starting to be, towards Sirius. Oh, and by the way, Peter couldn't be included in Sirius's circle of worry for his friends, for he was Peter and Peter was non existent in Sirius's universe. But yes, the rest upset Sirius. He was in a black mood, and that was not an intended pun there. Though his level of bad mood and horrible grace at the present time could be somewhat appreciated and compared to the Black's characteristics and heritage. Sirius was just very angry and somewhat sad on the ridge that seemed to be tearing wider and wider between him and his friends, and the worst thing of all, he couldn't understand why. He looked up, his gray eyes blinking as he realized for the first time where his feet had taken him. Sirius stood at the outskirts of the Quidditch Pitch, glaring out moodily at the quidditch stands.

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status: complete
tag: open
words: 916
notes: moody sirius
outfit: -click here-
music/lyrics:
credit: by eesse

[/size]

[mitzeh]

For some reason, the Quidditch field wasn’t the students’ favourite place on Hogwarts’ grounds; in fact, it remained rather unoccupied other than during matches, and sometimes trainings - then there would usually be some girls on the stands, perhaps one or two guys. For a school where about ninety percent of students were obsessed with the game, or so the full stands during the matches allowed to suspect, it was really surprising that so few of them, except the players of course, spent time anywhere around the field. (Rumour had it that the place right behind changing rooms was one of those spots perfect for couples who needed some… privacy, but that wasn’t technically the field, right?) The place’s lack of popularity was one of the reasons Regulus Black came here at all. Oh, he went to the matches right, whenever Slytherin was playing at least, but he was a quiet kind of guy. He preferred solitude to big crowds, which was why he had his own spots around the castle and its grounds - places where he could be alone should he feel the need.

Given, the field wasn’t even close to being one of his favourites, but it wasn’t the need to be alone that had brought him here in the first place. While most of his peers were driven away by current weather rather than enjoyed it, Regulus didn’t mind cold wind and drops of rain falling from the skies occasionally; frankly, he was actually feeling quite good, something he didn’t experience often these days. Long walk around the grounds had refreshed his mind, the weather was actually pleasant for the moment - it was still wet, but also vaguely sunny, which was just about the amount of sun Regulus needed in his life. He hadn’t got into any serious trouble so far, and the thoughts of his home and his brother and the darker aspects of his life in general were tucked neatly in the back of his mind, where they wouldn’t bother him for a while. All in all, he was pretty content.

Someone up there had to hate him however, or at least have some certain problems with his existence and his choices in life, because as soon as he heard someone’s footsteps and looked up to check who else had decided to seek solace on the field, his eyes fell on the last person he’d wish to see right now, namely his older brother. Sirius Black, in all angry glory, glaring holes in the ground as he walked - that didn’t bode well for sure. Regulus could feel his mood dropping rapidly, and he knew it was only going to get worse. There was absolutely no way Sirius wouldn’t notice him sooner or later, he was the only other person there after all. If only he had bothered to climb up to the stands! But no, he’d had to sit on the ground, drying it first with a spell of course. For a moment he hoped against hope that Sirius would miraculously fail to see him because of some kind of temporary blindness; or that the ground would part and swallow him, Regulus, on its own.
Of course, no such thing happened.

As soon as Sirius glared at him, Regulus felt a wave of feelings he couldn’t quite name. It was anger, mostly, and that one he was familiar with - he admitted to it freely, even though for all the wrong reasons. But it was also yearning and sorrow and bitterness, too overwhelming to push away immediately. The younger Black was glad he had such control over his features - he would truly hate to show any of these emotions to anyone, let alone Sirius himself.

Regulus watched his brother’s face as it changed upon recognizing him. He wondered what Sirius would do - walk away? Talk to him? Granted, they didn’t speak often these days, and when they did it always turned into arguments. He had a suspicion that this encounter would end up this way, too, from all the signs he could read; he’d spent the majority of his life observing Sirius, after all. Even after they’d fallen apart he could tell that something was eating him up, and it didn’t take a genius or a brother to know that Sirius Black wasn’t very good at dealing with this kind of feelings. He had to take them out, and here he had been granted with a perfect opportunity to do so; Regulus doubted he would miss such chance. The boy cringed inwardly at the prospect of what would probably be the most violent shouting match they’d had so far. It would probably be mostly Sirius shouting, too. Regulus didn’t like noise in general and arguments only gave him a headache. He considered walking away, but it would do him no good, besides, Sirius was one of the few people who could still raise intense emotions in him. So he stayed. And, because the tension was more than unpleasant and he just wanted it to be over already, he said, loud enough for his brother to hear, “My, my. And what are you doing here, alone? Shouldn’t at least one of your tugs be following you around? Or have your Gryffindor friends got bored of you eventually?” Friends that you had chosen over your own brother, Regulus didn’t add. He was way too bitter to say that out loud.

[seriouslysirius]

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Sirius was just glaring out at the Quidditch pitch, remembering the last Gryffindor game he'd been here, and he scowled some more. Stupid fucking quidditch. He was about to walk straight for one of the stands, he figured that if he got up there no one would come to annoy him up there, but as he was walking past the Slytherin stand, a crumpled shadow at it's foot caught his attention. His head snapped quickly to his left, and was both shocked and surprised at whom he found starring up at him with his nasty little face. Sirius's face went blank for a moment, his eyes going wide, and all he could think of, was 'For Merlin's white hairy beard, WHY? WHY HIM?' but than his expression changed quickly again, anger snapping back in, his lips twisting in anger, and disgust at the face that stared back up at him that looked so much like him. Sirius wanted to break Regulus's nose right here and now, so he wouldn't look so much like him anymore.

Sirius looked up, up the stands, and up right at the skies, watching the skies and cursing it all. The quickly shifting clouds created gaps in the sky to let in a few rays of dull sun filter in every little in a while, the changing lights creating weird lighting on Sirius's features, some stray rain droplets falling around the boys. The weather was a mess, just like how Sirius felt today. The Gryffindor glared up at the heaven, cursing whatever or whoever had thrown this piece of shitluck at him today.

When Sirius turned to look back down at the seated figure on the ground, all the fury of the world apparently seemed to fall down and seep into Sirius, who was now glaring fire out of his rapidly darkening eyes, his face a portrait of twisted anger. From all the people in fucking Hogwarts, it had to be his little git of a brother. They had this special relationship them two. There weren't two brothers in the whole of Hogwarts who reacted to each other the same way - "Fuck off Regulus, what would you know of friends, you don't have any you sad sod." snarled Sirius, spitting the angry words in his younger brother's direction. "Look at you, think your partying with your imaginary friends right there, asshole? at those words, Sirius pulled back one leg, and with some good feeling put into it, kicked a shower of pebbles and small stones and dust in Regulus direction. He wanted to get some in his eyes, and it would serve him fucking right too, wipe that impertinent and insolent smirk from his face.

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status: complete
tag: BABY BRO, REGGIE
words: 459
notes: GRAAAWR
outfit: -click here-
music/lyrics:
credit: by eesse

[/size]

[mitzeh]

Regulus’ whole body was tense, every nerve in his body seemed to be readying it for… something. He wondered when he had started having this fight or flight reaction to the mere sight of his brother. What seemed like an eternity ago, even though it had been only a few years back, not only had he used to not actively avoid his brother, but he had had the habit of literally gravitating towards him whenever the older boy was around. Funny how time changed things. Sometimes, when he was feeling particularly miserable and in a mood for a strong drink, Regulus wondered why exactly his brother hated him so much. He blamed his Gryffindor friends, mostly, especially Potter. Lupin didn’t look much like a hater and Pettigrew most certainly didn’t look much like anything, but that James fellow was obviously someone who liked messing with people’s heads. The Slytherin was completely blind to the fact that it had all started long before Hogwarts, his desperation to feel loved by his parents making it impossible for him to notice their otherwise obvious faults.

Here we go, he thought bitterly, not really feeling any better that he had been the one to have spoken first. “How unbelievably mature of you, brother,” he said coldly, face showing exactly nothing. He seemed even calmer, almost creepily calm compared to Sirius’ rage so visible on the Gryffindor’s face. That was perhaps the most distinctive of their differences – the older Black never hid his emotions, he followed their lead rather than trying to overcome them, while the younger one preferred to analyze them instead of letting them show on his face or in his actions. Even now, when every one of Sirius’ words and gestures made his stomach clench painfully in something he didn’t quite want to recognize, his voice was as steady as ever. “I am, excuse me, I was relaxing before you showed your face here. My lack of friends obviously doesn’t make me as miserable as your wild social life makes you. Please don’t miss the irony,” the younger boy added, this time with a tint of sarcasm to his voice. What he’d said was as far from the truth as possible, but he doubted that Sirius would show any kind of positive emotions if he decided to confess to him. Quite on the contrary, probably.

Regulus wiped the dirt from his face right after it hit him. He could have easily deflected it with a spell, or maybe just turned his head so it wouldn’t have reached him, but he had a feeling it would only make Sirius angrier, and Merlin only knew what the older boy would do then. Regulus wasn’t exactly in a mood for a duel, especially with his brother. As it was, he had simply closed his eyes, not wanting any sand or, worse, pebbles to get in them; there was only so much he was willing to sacrifice to avoid more violent confrontation. “Dear Salazar. I wasn’t aware we were five years old again.” He snorted, although his palms were clenched in tight fists. Being hurt wasn’t an option, so he decided to feel mad at his brother instead. It was working.