Sirius wanted to disobey Lupin. He wanted to run downstairs and bear witness to the atrocities that would soon be committed against his hateful bitch of a mother. He wanted to drink down her suffering, like a hot mug of butterbeer on a cold winter's day. He wanted to burn the image of her terror and her humiliation into his retinas until the end of time itself.
But he couldn't move. He stood in the center of the dark, foul smelling darkness, his breath short and shallow, his heart pounding against his ribs in an erratic non-rhythm. He could hear the sound of breathing and his heartbeat reverberating back from the moldy walls, echoing back to him in whispers. The whispers of the dead. So many dead...
His mother enjoyed and even preferred physical, muggle forms of torture, for the simple fact that such methods were easier to heal without trace. So much dark magic left a mark, and some dark injuries were irreversible. But broken limbs, dislocated shoulders, sliced and boiled flesh, they could all be healed back to perfection, with relative ease.
He felt it all as he stood in the dark, alone. Alone and yet surrounded by ghosts. Silent save for the panting and the sound of his heart, now roaring in his ears. So many years of abuse, until he didn't feel pain anymore. At least...not really. There were some sensations of pain, pain he had never experienced in the dungeons, that he could still feel. Some, he secretly enjoyed. Some he even relished.
He had broken his arm once, on a dare. James had dared him to do one stunt or another on his broom. Sirius had pulled off the stunt...and then flown straight into one of the stone walls of Hogwarts. He had made impact with his left arm, and two days later, when one of his friends (he couldn't remember who) had dragged him to the hospital wing, he found out the bone had been shattered in two places.
He closed his eyes. He focused on his breathing. She was never going to hurt him again. He would never have to set foot in this horrid house ever again. This was the end. This was the final fuck you, this beautiful and poetic act that his Remus was committing, for him. This perfect, poetic fate.
And he wasn't going to miss it. Walking stiffly, forcing each step, Sirius crossed the first level and made his way slowly down the narrow staircase. He stopped at the bottom of the stairs.
Moony...the wolf...was circling the bitch. Sirius smiled. That would unnerve her, because it was inaction. It was delaying what she believed to be the inevitable, much as she had done to her countless, buggered victims.
He stepped forward enough for his mother to see him. She looked in his direction, her face twisted hatefully. "You," she sputtered, beside herself with rage. "You bring this thing into my house, to kill me? This disgusting, mudblooded freak? I wish you were never born, Sirius. If I could go back, I would rip you from my womb and feed you to dogs."
Sirius' smile stretched wide, into a full scale grin. White teeth and sparkling, shining eyes. "He isn't here to kill you, Mum."
That had the desired affect. His smile became tight and smug as she blinked. She blinked, and then looked confused, but then understanding and incredulous horror widened her eyes.
"He loves me, Mum. Merlin knows why, but he does. I didn't believe anyone could ever love me. I didn't think I deserved love. But he loves me, and I love him." He continued to smile, serenely now. "And he isn't here to kill you. He's here to do something much, much better. For me. Oh, I could give you the treatement you've given me since I was born...I could lay you out on a rack and torture the fuck out of you...but I'm better than that. I don't need to work so hard to get my rocks off. I'm not so miserable that I can't get pleasure any other way." He grinned. "I much rather sit back and let my dirty blooded, lycanthropic male lover do something truly horrifying to you. Something that will destroy everything you've ever held dear. Yourself, and your pure, pure blood."