Chapter 3: Same Old Story 1/6

Disclaimer: I do not own either Harry Potter (rightfully owned by J.K Rowling) or Naruto (rightfully owned by Masashi Kishimoto) nor do I make any money out of this fiction. I will also add that any sections or phrases in this chapter that bear resemblance to works by either author or from movies based on works of said authors is recreated in the same spirit of free usage and is not for profit.

A/N: This took a little longer than I had anticipated. A nasty case of writer's block combined with other draws on my time. I did manage to write the first chapter of another new story, if anybody would like to give it a look.

I hope you enjoy this chapter, as always.

Oh, and check out my new fic, Suna Suna no Naruto. People who enjoy this story will probably like that one since it features Gaara fairly prominently. It also already has a great cover by wonderful my supporter Spiral of Destiny who did the cover for this story as well. You can see it full-sized and other pieces of art based on my stories through the second link on my profile. To update those who are going to read SSNN or who have already, I plan to write the next chapter after this one has been updated (so, now).

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(Last Time)

Gaara felt trapped, but he could have escaped. He could run away and they would never know the truth. Better he be gone than them finding out this secret.

But he didn't run. He didn't jump to the door and keep running until his existence could no longer bring ruin and pain to his friends. Instead, he stayed sat where he was and looked up at Sirius and Remus, trying not to feel like the teenager he technically was.

"It's okay, Gaara, we're just worried. Take your time."

He took a deep breath.

"It started the night I killed my mother…" He started.

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It was time to come clean.

Deep breath.

"It started the night I killed my mother…" He began, with Sirius and Remus entirely focussed on his words.

Gaara paused; even after disclosing that damaging fact of his history he was struggling to admit the rest of the terrible secrets he held. This past year had been the first in his life where he wasn't surrounded by people who knew who and what he was. It had been a nice year, all things considered, but it was inevitably going end.

"My father needed a weapon… he was not a kind man. He wasn't a good father. He…" Now that he was finally doing this, Gaara did not know how to articulate himself. He took another suspenseful breath to centre himself.

"In my world, there are no wizards and the technological development is behind this world's. We have a type of magic but it is used differently and there are different types, different natures. Other than that, our worlds are strikingly similar. Similar animals, same human shapes. But in my home world there are also demons, the tailed beasts."

"You're joking, right? Demons?" Sirius spoke, regretting it when he thought he might have interrupted. The notion of demons conjured the Judaeo-Christian form of them but he guessed the word had different connotations to the off-worlder.

"Monsters, nine of them. Giant and destructive. And evil. As big as Hogwarts and comprised entirely of chakra, of magic." From the wide-eyed stares he was receiving, he believed Sirius and Remus understood what he was saying so far. "They destroy and kill, and they hate humans. My village possessed one of these demons and they used it to make a weapon. By sealing it inside of a container, they could harness its power for war."

"War?" Sirius asked, once again unable to stop himself despite the glare Remus sent him.

"War and killing. Both are common." Gaara knew this was an understatement but trying to express the harsh reality of his home was a task unto itself and he had other things to say right now. "Weapons, food, corpses, can be sealed into objects, for transportation, usually. Demons are too powerful, so they have to be sealed inside…"

One more word and the growing suspicion on their faces would be forever resolved.

"…humans."

Their wide eyes were back, either from the practice of sealing demons in humans, or because they had indeed pieced the truth together already. Gaara wasn't sure which. He continued regardless.

"My father needed a weapon so he sealed a demon in his unborn third child. Me. As a result, I was born prematurely, and in the process I killed my mother."

"Wait a minute, you're part demon?" Sirius asked, rudely glossing over the horror and self-hatred of that last statement.

Gaara tried not to let the sudden feelings of hurtful familiarity show on his face at being mistaken for the demon he contained. "It is inside of me, distinct but connected to me. It is a being of pure magic so its essence bleeds into mine. That is why I can control the sand. It protects me. But as a result of being a Jinchūriki, when I tried to sleep, the demon possessed me and rampaged while consuming my mind. I would have died from insomnia had it not also healed me."

"How long did you go without sleep?" Remus finally chimed in, intellectual curiosity mingling with his intense concern.

"Three years was the longest I went without possession."

"Three years without a full night's sleep?!" Remus could hardly imagine the sort of hell that would be.

"Without any sleep." Gaara corrected.

He could have stopped there. Surely, Sirius would have let him go without pressing for more answers, at least for now. But it was never going to get any easier, and more to the point, this would likely be his last opportunity to say everything. A demon was to be shunned, as was Gaara, and for good reason too.

"You mentioned something called a 'Jinchooriky', what is that? Is that you?" Remus asked.

"It means 'sacrifice', the ones who hold a demon and use its power."

"A sacrifice? What do you mean by sacrifice?" Sirius wanted elaboration.

"We are hated for what we are and what we carry. We live alone and we are usually killed in battle or by our comrades when we lose control."

"And your father did this to you, knowing all of that? He put a monster inside of you so you would fight for him?" Sirius was getting the impression that Gaara's father and Orion would have gotten along swimmingly. Swapped tips, even.

"He was the leader of our military. He had a daughter and a son; he needed a weapon more than another child."

"And that was the person who raised you?" Sirius continued, incredulous.

"No, my mother's brother cared for me, under my father's orders. He was nice but he hated me and I had to kill him to survive. I killed him and all of the assassins that came after, ordered to destroy me because I was unstable, by my father."

"He tried to have you killed because he thought you were unstable?" Remus asked, disbelief etched onto his face. Sure, it was not as if Gaara was entirely normal or well-adjusted, but surely he wasn't that bad, and nothing could justify a father ordering that, nor an uncle actually trying to do it.

"I used to be unstable. I let Shukaku control me; I listened to it."

"Shukaku? That's the name on the Map, the one you didn't want to talk about." Sirius exclaimed. That made a whole lot more sense now. "The demon inside of you is called Shukaku."

Gaara nodded. One last thing to say now.

"I… have killed people. Many people. Assassins, my fellow shinobi, enemies, civilians. Even children. I felt that I needed to."

Twin breaths caught in a pair of throats across the room.

There it was, everything laid bare. Gaara came from another world, he was a shinobi, a warrior, he transformed on the full moon for some reason, he contained a demon, and he had killed hundreds of shinobi, killers in their own rights. And innocents. So many innocents.

There were no more secrets.

"Wh- What do…You haven't...That's not you… You don't…" Remus was utterly lost for words.

"There's hasn't...You haven't hurt anyone since you got here, though; right?" Sirius' question was anything but rhetorical. He was honestly afraid that Gaara had hurt or killed people in secret, judging only by his own words. Sirius didn't want to believe the small boy was anything but inherently good, but if he was housing some sort of a demon, if he had truly killed…

This was all too much.

"No, those two men were the first humans I have killed here. I'm…I fought in a war a year before I came here. I battled against someone there, someone like me. But he was different; despite being a Jinchūriki, he had people precious to him. He showed me a different way. I no longer need to kill to validate my existence." Gaara thought back to that day in Konoha, as he often did, and the many conversations he had in the aftermath with his peer. "I can control Shukaku now, and my impulses are weaker. I lost control yesterday. My upset at seeing you hurt weakened my control for a moment."

Sirius thought for a second, wanting to tackle all of the big issues that Gaara had laid on them, but right now all he could process was the immediate. "Remus wasn't hurt until after you killed that first Death Eater with your knife, when you first showed up

at the battle…" He didn't mean it to sound like an accusation, but in a sense it was.

"That was a casualty of battle. I responded with deadly force." The way Gaara said it, without a shred of remorse that he had been subtly expressing until now, was chilling to the bone. His ability to switch between a scared, unloved child and a mature, battle-hardened warrior was one of his most disturbing.

Sirius sat back in his chair, his hand rubbing his face. He was tired and he was struggling to understand Gaara more than ever. Gaara was his friend, though he had always been a little off, but this was beyond the pale. What he was saying, what he was claiming, was monstrous. There was no other word for it.

Remus was saddened, by the reality these terrible secrets would necessitate, but also because Sirius and he had spent so much energy trying to socialise Gaara this summer and all that time the boy had rejected knowing such interactions were inherently dangerous. A lot like Remus had been when he first started Hogwarts.

Sirius looked up at Gaara and tried to discern some expression of remorse or regret, but as ever Gaara's stony countenance showed absolutely nothing on his face. Sirius would have had no idea what Gaara was feeling if the melancholic reminiscence had not drained all of the positivity from his seemingly monotone voice during his uncharacteristically long speech.

He had only been listening to Gaara's rasping voice for a couple months of sporadic short answers but Sirius was becoming rather adept at hearing the subtle intonations. As far as he could remember, whether by speech or by writing, Gaara had never communicated this much in one go before.

"I think I should go now." Gaara said, getting to his feet, ready to leave them both for good.

"No, stay there." Sirius said, assuming Gaara meant to go stand in the hall. He didn't want the boy wandering off right now.

If Sirius were honest with himself, he would admit that he was a little scared of Gaara right now, but in his confused state of mind, his automatic reaction was to keep the boy in sight and get him home until he could make a level decision.

"I think I'm going to get some sleep. I'll see you tomorrow." He patted Remus on his un-injured shoulder and rose unsteadily to his feet.

Gaara was waiting for his marching orders, some sort of dismissal. He did not expect Sirius to open the door for him and to lead him out of the room, the wing, and the hospital. As he stood in front of Grimmauld Place, he thought Sirius was being very kind and brave to allow him to collect his few possessions.

He was glad Sirius hadn't said anything to him. The silence was better than the scorn. When he stole a glance at the man's face, he knew his suspicion was right, that fear and mistrust had taken the place of affection and joviality and that he definitely had no home here anymore.

Sirius let Gaara in and then silently set the wards, locking down the house as he had seldom done before. Gaara walked on ahead, up the stairs, his face still devoid of emotion. Sirius wanted to say something, he knew he should be saying something, that James would have known to say something, but right now all he could do was stay silent and watch Gaara's feet disappear to the next floor.

It was only when he was alone, when he wasn't looking at Gaara and wasn't forced to think about what he had been told moments before, that he could finally open his mouth to say something.

"Kreacher! Get me a bottle of something. Anything strong."

By the time Gaara had collected his things and brought them downstairs, Sirius had already passed out, either from the booze or sleep deprivation and exhaustion. Gaara was again glad. No forced farewells. They could leave each other as friends.

When he tried the door, it was locked and warded. Looking at Sirius, he didn't think he would awaken any time soon.

Why lock down the house like this?

It then occurred to Gaara that this was what Sirius had decided, that Gaara was too dangerous to be let loose and he was to be kept locked up until something else could be arranged. Gaara was surprised to find himself as a prisoner. Not that he didn't deserve to be locked up, he had long believed that was the least he deserved, but he had not expect Sirius to be the one to do it. With the man's history and with his personality, Gaara hadn't thought he was capable.

Gaara carried his possessions back up to his room and waited. Eventually Sirius would wake up and Gaara could ask to be let go. Hopefully their past friendship would inspire some clemency.

Needing some proper rest and unable to sleep or read, Gaara settled down to meditate and clear his mind. Shukaku was still harping on in the back of his mind so anything to relax a little would ease his burden enormously.

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Sirius awoke sometime in the evening as the unseen summer sun was setting. His hangover was profound and he called for a restorative immediately or, failing that, the hair of the dog that bit him. When he downed the vial of hangover cure, he only then remembered why he had been drinking on a Friday morning until passing out. With no inebriation or hangover to distract him, he had to deal with the problem of what Gaara had told him.

And, more pertinently, what was he to do with that information? What was he to do with Gaara?

He looked at the stairs but he couldn't face seeking out his ward right now. He considered getting another bottle and writing off the day entirely but alcoholism ran in the family and besides that he couldn't avoid his problems forever.

He was getting hungry and assumed Gaara would be too so he called for his despised servant again. Suddenly, realisation struck and Kreacher's fear of Gaara was not so funny anymore.

After he sent off the despised remnant of his mother's cruelty, Sirius continued his musings. This house, that he had pretty much no choice but to return to when he found himself free and responsible for at least one full-time dependent, had begun to change over the past few months. Having Gaara and Remus and occasionally Harry staying here, it had started to feel like home, like he had at Hogwarts. With Remus in the hospital, and Gaara…the Gaara he knew before the revelation, gone, it felt cold and empty again. All that was left were his hated house elf and those terrible memories.

Soon he had his dinner in front of him and Kreacher had set Gaara's outside his door. Sirius poked at his food, forcing himself to take a few bites so his hunger would be lessened when his nausea, unrelated to his daytime drinking and hangover, had eventually abated. Many nasty words could (and were) spoken about Kreacher, often to his pinched face, but his cooking had always been to a very high standard. Not quite Hogwarts or Molly Weasley, but as far as a home cooking went it was perfectly enjoyable on most occasions.

Right now it had no taste.

He pulled out his radio in the evening and used it to avoid thinking about anything until very late into the night when he had a small chance of getting back to sleep. He managed to get only a couple hours of sleep which was good in a way as it made his body ache. It was satisfying for his body to feel as stressed as his mind.

Gaara did not appear to have emerged from his room yet, other than to eat even less of his dinner than Sirius had. Sirius stayed downstairs, afraid of encountering his houseguest on a trip to the bathroom. The knowledge remained, that he should go and talk to Gaara, but he was a coward and would continue to ignore and avoid his friend and ward for as long as chance and neglect would allow him.

He made sure to have food sent up regularly from breakfast onwards. Gaara would let himself starve rather than break the code of silence between them, it seemed.

The bearded coward was getting ready to start a morning of drinking when an owl came tapping on his window. Looking out, he was relieved to see Hedwig perched there. A beautiful owl, if ever there was one, and she seemed to be fully aware of this fact. He let her in and set out a bowl of water for her. He sat down and she stood staring at him from his previously untarnished, polished teak table, now sporting a number of talon marks. She did not seem to be in any rush to get back to Surrey so Harry had probably asked her to wait for him to reply.

She was close enough to his seat that he could have leaned over and stroked her snow white feathers, but a small scar on his right index finger had taught him to keep his hands to himself when Hedwig was around. Whether it was the scent of dog, his scruffy appearance, the look of disappointment whenever Harry returned from Grimmauld Place, or some other avian instinct, for some reason Hedwig seemed to bear some sort of grudge against Sirius and would not permit over-familiarity.

Beautiful but judgemental bird.

When she squawked, he stopped staring at her and turned to his letter. Hogwarts clearly did not give penmanship lessons anymore, sadly. Perhaps he could devote an afternoon over the winter break to improve his godson's abysmal handwriting. He pulled out his antique sterling-silver letter opener and sliced through the paper. It had been cursed to cut open the hand of anybody who tried using it, but since it was also quite pretty he had had the curse removed so he could keep it. It was also absurdly sharp.

'Dear Sirius,

Finally finished the last of my homework last night. Hermione insisted I had to get it all done and a terrorist attack is no excuse for delay. At least it's all finished now so I can wait for my results to come out tomorrow.

How is Professor Lupin doing? Have you heard anything more? And I hope you and Gaara are okay after that Ministry thing.

I'm looking forward to going back to the Burrow for the last week of the holiday. Ron asked me to pass on a message from Fred and George. They wanted to remind you of 'the stakes.' I hope you know what that means.

I'll tell Hedwig to wait for a reply. Be careful of her beak this time. I've told her to be polite but she seems to think she knows best.

Harry'

Sirius smiled at the letter, setting it aside, to add to his growing pile of correspondence from Harry. He walked over to his writing desk and set out his letter writing supplies. He had told Harry a hundred times to refer to Remus by his Marauder title or at least his first name (or any number of unflattering nicknames he had thought up), so Sirius had taken to playing dumb.

'To Prongslet,

You really must remember to use our monikers when writing official letters.

I'm afraid I'm not familiar with any "Professor Lupin", but if I hear anything about him (her?) in the papers, I will let you know.

Bandit and I are fine. The Ministry, in their infinite wisdom, has decided to send some people around to check on us but after that the matter will be settled. You need not worry about it.

I look forward to hearing about your results. And remember what I told you, I will be proud of you so long as your grades come in above the "Sirius Black line of slacking". I have no doubts.

I know what the twins are referring to and I will conclude that matter soon. If I happen to stop by the Weasleys next week, please know that it will not be to see you and any interaction we might have will be entirely by accident. With that said, I'll be there on Wednesday so make sure you have your broom ready to fly.

About the dream you mentioned yesterday morning, I have given it some thought and I would suggest you needn't worry about it. It was probably just a dream as you said. I will run it past an old acquaintance of mine who would know, just to be safe.

Always lovely to hear from you, my wonderful godson,

Your beneficent and glorious godfather,

Padfoot