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The moment that his son was handed over to Walburga, though, the boy started to cry. Not just cry; it was wailing. Blood-curdling, tortured, scream-like, crying. To say that this displeased Orion was an understatement. “What did you do?” he automatically accused his wife, having no other plausible reason as to why his child would sound like that.
Sirius did not remain standing, however, falling back down to the ground. An unsatisfied expression passed over his face, but Sirius was not going to let his momentary glory be forgotten. The young child reached up for the table once more, his tiny fingers gripping the wood as firmly as they possibly could, and pulled himself up. Letting go, Sirius fell once more. Again and again he fell.
Multiple Forms of Pain
She had been brought up the same way. She had been taught to never cry out for help when she so desperately needed it. She had learned the hard way that emotions were better left locked up deep within the bowels of her black heart. Her son would have to learn that, even if she wished that she could teach him another way.
“Can you say anything else besides ‘yes, mama’?” she questioned as she buttoned up the front of his jacket and took a step back, looking him over.
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