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Black Dog	By : Kimmimaru Category: Harry Potter AU/AR > Slash - Male/Male Views: 4222 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 1
Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter, the characters nor the settings. I make no profit from this story.

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Non-Magic AU story based around the Marauders. Slash. M rating for a REASON.

Title based on the song of the same name by Led Zeppelin.

Sirius Black is a guitarist trying to make his way in a cut throat world.

This is a story I originally posted on another site but took it down as I was unhappy with it, so here it is again! :D Please enjoy and I would love to hear any comments you may have on it, I have worked really hard on trying to set the seventies atmosphere, which is hard when I was born in the eighties! Lol. Enjoy. (I will try to update as quickly as I can but I have several other projects on the go and so I cannot tell how regularly I will be able to get chapters out.)

Black Dog

I gotta roll, can't stand still, got a flaming heart, can't get my fill

Eyes that shine burning red, dreams of you all through my head.
- ‘Black Dog’ by Led Zeppelin.
Prologue: 1976

Thick black hair fell into his face as he lay there, the sky stretching far above his head. He could hear the busy London traffic, the steady thunder of the hoards of people, the slow and steady thrum of the music of London. He lay on his back, the summer sky stretching above him and the sun high in her blue playground, shadows were short, amorphous black puddles around people’s feet and he waited. Sweat ran down his cheek but he didn’t wipe it away, it was insignificant in comparison to the great weight of fear that settled over his mind. He had done it. He had finally done what he had been threatening to do since he was thirteen...

He had run.

He could still hear his mother’s distressed cries, his father’s rage...he still had the great big purple bruises covering his pale skin to attest to the violence he had suffered. Yet...he smiled. His smile revealed sharp teeth, pearly white and almost unnatural in there perfection. He was classically handsome, his skin like alabaster, his eyes as silver as the full moon and as sharp as daggers, even at sixteen he was good looking. His mannerisms showed his upper-class upbringing, yet his shoulder length hair defied it. He was a boy of contradiction.

He closed his eyes, feeling the sun warm him, his torn black tank top hung from his thin frame and his torn jeans showed the massive graze he had gained when he had overturned his motorbike. Of course, that had been what had started it...it had been the beginning of the end.

“Sirius! What on earth is that?!” His mother shouted as he pulled up outside his stately, yet musty old house in Grimmauld place.

He grinned at her, hair falling into his eyes as he cut the engine. “This, Mother, is a motorbike.” He said, seeing her eyes narrow, her lips thin...she was furious. He felt a thrill of pleasure as her face contorted as she scanned his leather jacket and dark blue jeans.

“Get rid of it this instant! I will not have a biker for a son!”

“You think, after the amount of money I paid for this, that I’d just get rid of it? Dream on.” His leather clad hands caressed the handles and he smiled lazily, blowing his fringe out of his eyes.

“Get in this house, this instant! You are an embarrassment!” His mother hissed furiously.

Sirius laughed, tipping his head back. He kicked the stand and swung one leg over the seat before striding over to his mother, he stepped into the cool house, shedding his jacket with a sigh and throwing it over the coat stand in the hall.

“Just wait until your father returns! When he sees that...that monstrosity he will punish you.”

Sirius just laughed as he walked into the basement kitchen to find the house servant, Miles Kreacher, setting up a tray for tea. The man was tiny, as old as the hills with white hair that protruded from his over large ears. He had bulbous eyes and he had an annoying tendency to mutter to himself as he went about his business. Sirius ignored him, grabbing an apple from the bowl of fruit on the old wooden table before barging past his mother and turning into the hall. “And where do you think you’re going young man?!” She said sharply.

Sirius gazed at her over his shoulder, biting into the apple. “To my room, where the hell else?”

“You will wait for your father in the drawing room I will not...”

Sirius cut her off with a wave as he jumped up the stairs. “I don’t think so.” He muttered and walked away, ignoring her angry words. He entered his room, it was plastered with so many posters the original wall paper could no longer be seen, he grinned to himself as he walked over to his record player, he lifted the glass top and rummaged in the pile of records by its side, the apple clamped between his teeth. When he found what he was looking for he pulled the vinyl from its case and put it almost tenderly on the player. The room was filled with the powerful riffs of Jimmy Page, the lilting voice of Robert Plant, the throaty bass of John Paul Jones and the heavy thud of John Bonham as Achilles Last Stand was pumped from the large speakers. Sirius grinned as he threw himself onto his bed, his legs crossed as he stared at the ceiling with one arm behind his head. He could feel the vibrations of the music move through the air, the floor and right into his very lungs where it made his heart beat join the pounding drums and the whine of the guitar. He loved it. Music was everything. It made his whole world revolve and it kept the darkness at bay, his parents hated it, they despised his obsession with rock music, they thought it was improper for him to be listening to it and they hated the fact that he couldn’t care less. He had left school with top O-levels, his parents had not commented, he had always hated his private school and had been glad to finally leave. Only one of his friends had attended his school with him, James Potter, a boy from a rich family, like his own, but his parents were kind and raised him in a loving environment...and it showed. James was a messy haired, bespectacled boy with an obsession with a certain red headed girl who he had met on a school trip to St. Ives. She lived in London but she came from a poor area, but that did not deter James. Sirius smiled and sat up, taking aim at the waste paper basket and throwing the apple core into the bin.

As the sun set below the horizon Sirius was broken from his day dreams by a slam, the sound of glass shattering and a gruff voice bellowing his name. He opened his eyes and they went dark, slowly he pushed himself up and stretched before switching off the music and gazing at the sunset for a second. He could tell by the way his father’s voice wavered that he had been drinking again. “Shit...” He whispered and turned to the door, on cue it was slammed open and there stood his father, grey eyes narrowed in fury and his dark hair cut neatly around his face.

“Boy! What the hell have you been doing?!” He demanded, advancing menacingly on his eldest son.

“Be still man, I haven’t done nothing.” Sirius replied mulishly, stuffing his hands in his pockets.

“Do not use slang in my house, young man! Do you know the trouble you are causing?! The neighbours are talking about that horrible monster sat outside our house! I want answers!”

Sirius huffed, making his long fringe flutter, his eyes darkened even further like storm clouds covering the silver moon and he gazed at his father through heavily lidded eyes. “I wanted a Motorbike, I saved up my wages from working Pat’s garage...It’s mine. I worked for it...can you dig?”

He knew he had pushed too far when his father’s face turned red with rage. He took a step forward and Sirius watched him close the door, he sighed inwardly. His father removed his belt, the silver buckle glinting menacingly in the fading light. “Take off that shirt and turn around, put both hands on the wall.” He hissed and Sirius took one look at his eyes and grinned.

“Nah, man...I ain’t down with that. I’m sixteen, you can’t treat me like a kid anymore.”

His father looked about ready to explode and Sirius had a split second to regret opening his mouth before a heavy fist collided with his face, he was thrown sideways and into the wall where he hit his head. He tasted blood as his teeth pierced his tongue but before he could spit it out he was pulled up by his hair. “I have told you to cut your hair, you are not a girl! You are a boy, I will not have a pouf for a son! Do you understand me?!”

“Ow! You fucker! Get off me!” Sirius squirmed, squinting against the pain and feeling the blood trickle down his chin. His father hit him again, this time in the stomach, he doubled over feeling all the air rush from his lungs as he was allowed to collapse. He knelt there, hair covering his face and one arm wrapped around his aching stomach. He gasped, desperately trying to fill his lungs with air.

“You will not curse at me! I am your father. You are setting a bad example for your brother...”

Sirius looked up, wincing as pain lanced through his stomach. He saw his father gazing coldly down at his record collection. He watched in horror as Orion Black picked up his Vinyl and snapped it in half. His jaw dropped. “Oi! Hey! Y-You can’t do that!”

“Your dreams of becoming a rock star are over! You will get out and get yourself a real job,” He snapped another one and Sirius winced. “I will ask Phil from the company to employ you, construction work will get these Queer idea’s out of your head once and for all! I will not let my son destroy our good family name with his rebellion! It is over!”

Sirius stood, gazing down at the shards of his new Record. He licked his lips slowly. “You know what?” He said softly, finally meeting his father’s stern gaze. “Fuck you!” He spat. “Fuck you and your rules, fuck your regulations, fuck you and everything you stand for! I have had enough!” He saw his father’s hand move, he tried to duck but felt the fist connect with his ribs, he cried out, collapsing to the floor and bearing his teeth in agony.

“HOW DARE YOU SPEAK TO ME LIKE THAT YOU USELESS FAGGOT!”

Sirius hissed air through his teeth furiously, he had no chance to defend himself as he was dragged off the floor by his shirt and thrown into the wall, he cracked his head and saw stars before a fist collided with his face again. His head spun, the world went grey and he slid to his knees before his father. Blood dripped steadily to the carpet from his split lip and he raised a shaky hand and wiped it away, slowly, as the dizziness cleared he lifted his head. “I hate you.” His voice cracked. “I hate you...I hate you so much I wouldn’t care if a truck squashed you flat! You evil, sadistic son of a bitch!”

The last thing he saw was his father’s furious face before darkness fell about him.

After he had come around, lying in a bloody heap surrounded by shattered Vinyl disks he had heaved himself up, gathered some clothes and a collection of his most treasured possessions before stuffing them into his old school rucksack and walking downstairs, leaving his house for good. His mother had tried to stop him but he had pushed her out the way and slammed the door in her face. He had taken his bike and ridden away, feeling the wind in his hair, feeling freedom shatter the chains that had bound him to his family, and he had hardly stopped smiling.

The fact that he had no money, nowhere to live and no job, hardly bothered him as he lay in the grass listening to the sweet music of London. The summer was the hottest since records began, he was drenched in sunlight and he felt light, slightly giddy as he realised that he was free. He couldn’t stop smiling. He heard someone shout and he sat up slowly, eyes moving around the park and saw a tall, messy haired boy running over to him, glasses flashing in the sunlight. Sirius waved as his friend came to halt and looked down at him, Sirius was covered in dark bruises, marks of abuse.

“Woah man, what happened?” James asked as he sat down.

Sirius shook his head. “Booked it, didn’t I?” He said with a grin. “The old man was giving me too much hassle...”

James looked him up down, seeing the state of his clothes, the bruise on his jaw and his eye. He pulled a face, hating seeing it. “Dude, you realise you’ve got nowhere to stay now, right?”

Sirius shrugged, digging in his jeans pocket and bringing forth a crumpled packet of cigarettes. He took one out, handing the packet to James who took one. They lit up off the same match and James blew smoke from his lips with a satisfied sigh. “I’ll find something, Man.” Sirius said softly. “At least I’m free now.”

James puffed thoughtfully on the cigarette before speaking. “Crash at mine.” He said, looking sideways at Sirius.

“You mean your parents would be down with that?”

James shrugged. “I guess, like, they actually prefer you to me.” He smirked. “It’ll be cool.”

Sirius smiled. “Sure, I’ll crash ‘till I get my own crib.”

“Awesome.” James lay back smoking and gazing up at the clouds. “Ugh...My mum’s gunna be awful when she sees you looking like you got hit by a train...”

Sirius laughed, a sharp, bark-like noise that made people startle and look over at the Juvenile delinquent. “Cool...”

They spent a while checking out the girls who passed them, rating them on looks. Then, as the sky slowly began to darken Sirius and James got up and left the park, Sirius grabbed his bike, swinging his leg over it as James climbed onto the back, grabbing his friend’s waist. “If I die, you’re paying for my funeral!” He said and Sirius just laughed as he revved the engine.

“Hold on tight!” He said over the roar as they sped off down the street.
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Black Dog