Numb

By: Linkin Park

Character: Sirius B.

I'm tired of being what you want me to be

Sirius had been so stupid.

When he was younger, he had an excuse to blindly swallow up the endless stream of dung. He had an excuse to mindlessly, feeling so faithless instinctively believe the things his family would say lost under the surface, no matter how unbelievable they were. Because that's what obedient little boys did. They listened to their parents and never disagreed. Because that's what obedient, Black boys did. Don't know what you're expecting of me.

"Mudbloods are tainting our world," Orion would hiss, throwing down his newspaper.

"Muggles are little more than animals," Walburga would sniff. "We should just kill them all and be done with it."

He hadn't known put under the pressure anything otherwise.

But now...now things were different. Being at Hogwarts, being in Gryffindor House, was a breath of fresh air of walking in your shoes. Oh, how he desperately needed that breath, after being suppressed in complete darkness for so long. (Caught in the undertow, just caught in the undertow)

And he could no longer ignore the truth.

As much as he wanted to say that his parents were wrong, that Muggleborns weren't tainting their world, that Muggles were better than mere animals, there was a part of him that held on to those long, intense lectures on the importance of blood purity.

That part was still a seven-year-old, watching his mother blast aside a homeless man on the streets who had attempted to drag him into a back alleyway. That part was still helping his father and brother decorate the house for the Christmas feast later that night. That part of him wasn't to be seen by anyone else in this world. That part of him was still a child.

Walburga and Orion weren't perhaps the most loving of parents, but they were all he had for eleven years. Now, to be thrown so suddenly into the harsh, strange world like this, he wasn't sure what to believe anymore. He hated his family, that was for sure. They'd lied to him his entire life.

But how many of those lies are lies, and how many of the truths he's now learned are truths?

I'm becoming this, all I want to do,
Is be more like me and be less like you.

One minute he was there, with a treacle tart melting deliciously in his mouth. The next minute, he was gone, sucked away into a black whirlpool. The familiar, comforting mantra started playing in his head yet again. Sirius obeyed the insistent tugging that occurred more and more these days.

I'm not them. I am not them. I am not a Slytherin. I do not think Muggleborns steal magic. I do not hate Muggles.

I am not them. I will not serve him. I will not grow up to become a Death Eater. I will not live on bribes and slippery words and filthy gold wrought from others' blood.

I am in Gryffindor. I am courageous. I will fight for Dumbledore. I will defy Voldemort. I am not them.

He unclenched his hands. A sheen of cold sweat coated his forehead. He wasn't one of them. He was still him. His mind was still safe. He will never be them.

Sirius picked up his fork and continued eating.

And I know I may end up failing too.

He remembered asking his parents once about why they lived in their dank, dingy house with the disgusting Kreacher while his cousins and Uncle Cygnus and Aunt Druella lived in that huge manor with dozens of house-elves. His answer was a sharp slap that resulted in a purple bruise that took a full week to heal. Now he understands.

But I know you were just like me

Orion never completed his seven years at Hogwarts. He was expelled in sixth year for using the Cruciatus Curse on a fellow student. Grandfather Arcturus's connections just barely kept him out of Azkaban, but he never received his N.E. . Number 12, Grimmauld Place was the only thing Arcturus left his least favorite son in his will. It's the one last taunt, the final insult. With someone disappointed in you.

Sirius never brought it up again.

"That's it," Sirius snarled. "I'm out."

He opened his owl's cage. "Meet me at the Potters', all right?" he told him. "And hopefully you won't ever have to come back here again."

The barn owl gave a hoot of relieved understanding, nipped his owner fondly, and flew out the window. Sirius watched him go, envying its tantalizing freedom, envying its control of its own life. (Caught in the undertow, just caught in the undertow)

Enough, he told himself roughly. Self-pity wouldn't do anything. He grabbed his bag and broomstick and marched down every step I take is another mistake to you to the cramped hallway, equally wanting and not wanting his parents to be present.

They were there. Hunched, with her back to him, Walburga was the classic Brothers Grimm witch, tending to her cauldron and muttering evil spells. Cygnus, dark, imposing, a gargoyle carved from stone, for all the emotion he showed.

Sirius took a deep breath and yanked open the door. No scream of outrage sprang out; no Cruciatus Curse shot his way. And every second I waste is more than I can take. So far, so good. He was out, just like that, of the Noble and Most Ancient House of Black.

He should've known it was too good to be true. Just a split second before he was about to mount his broom, an invisible rubber band wrapped itself around his waist and pulled him back.

"Well, well, well," a familiar, unpleasant voice said. "What've we got here?"

Sirius tried to reach for his wand, but his father beat him to it. With a flick of his wand, Sirius jerked back, unable to move.

"Let me go," he growled. "I'm sick of you, Father."

'Cause everything you though I would be

"Father, he calls me." the cold voice repeated. "'Father.'"

As quick as lightning, a hand struck out, slapping him across the face. Sirius grunted, feeling the warm path of blood making its way down into his mouth. Has fallen apart right in front of you.

"You're no son of mine," Orion sneered, eyes murderous.

"Just as well."

This time, a clout to the side of his head. "Your tongue is as hard as ever, I see."

I've become so numb...

Sirius grinned through the hazy red fog. "I got it from you, Daddy dearest."

"Yes? Let's see if I can help you soften it. Crucio!"

Sirius bit his lip, refusing to cry out. Rusty, salty blood seeped into his mouth. After a moment, the pain stopped. He hung limply in the air, gasping for breath. But he wasn't about to give in just yet.

"It's not my tongue that's the problem, Father," he said quietly. "It's my pride. Something else I got from you."

...I can't feel you there.

Orion laughed loudly. "The way he talks! It's as if he's got an army of a thousand at his back instead of pathetically whimpering at my mercy. Pride, you say? I gave you your pride and I will break it! Crucio! CRUCIO!"

His back arched and his spine cracked. Dark eyes rolled back into his head. His limbs shuddered and twisted in grotesque ways. And he did not utter a single word. It was only until the spell wore out that he began to laugh, a half-crazed, maniacal sound. Become so numb

"Father, oh Father," he whispered. "Did you really think you could break me that easily?"

"You—"

"You're going to have to do a lot better than that."

With a sudden lunge, he wrestled the wand out of his father's hand and broke free. Orion roared in fury and dove onto Sirius. The two rolled, furiously exchanging blows.

"Look at you, Father, dirtying your hands with Muggle fighting," Sirius hissed. "Are you really so much better than what you call animals?" So much more aware

Orion paused, perhaps because of his son's words, or the foot that just sank into his stomach, but that was all Sirius needed. Landing one last solid, teeth-rattling punch, he scrambled to his feet and remounted, chucking his father's wand back at him.

He was already ten feet up in the air when Orion recovered. His mother and brother had come out too, staring in shock. He waved merrily to his family, heart already lighter. No longer was he bound by the iron-tight rules. No longer was he subject to the nastiness and abuse and cruelty. He was free, free at last.

AN: This has been a WIP since January. I'm like, the queen of procrastination. Oh, and ignore the awkward order of the lyrics. It's the first time I've tried arranging them, and I'm afraid I didn't do too good a job. Hope you enjoyed my writing though :D

~Gella

PS: This is also slightly AU because the Blacks have always lived at Number 12, Grimmauld Place. I had to write something, so I wrote it like how I wrote it. Desperate times call for desperate measures, eh?

PPS: Song/character suggestions are welcome *hint hint, nudge nudge*