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Regulus ought to know better than to cry in public, and there are few places more public than platform 9 ¾ on September first with every magical family in Britain crowded into one place. So when he sobs his way through, “I don't want you to go,” while their parents' backs are turned, Sirius uses a hug as an excuse to muffle any further speech in the fabric of his robes.
“Shhh. I'll write you every day. It'll be just like having me at home, all right?” This only makes Regulus cry harder, probably because they both know it's not true, that Sirius won't write every day and it wouldn't be the same besides. “Shhh,” he repeats, even though Regulus has mastered the art of silent crying over the years, because Mr. Nott is looking over their parents' shoulders at them, one eyebrow raised. “Okay,” Sirius says, voice harsher, “get it together. You're going to get yourself in trouble.” Just in time, he stops himself from adding, “And I won't be there to get you out of it,” but despite his tact, Regulus just shudders harder.
“I c-can't.” Sirius pulls his wand from an inside pocket and jabs Regulus with a calming spell. Regulus pulls away, attempting to look put-out but not quite managing. Once he's more than a few inches away, Sirius also gets rid of the redness in his eyes. “You know I hate when you do that.”
“You're welcome.” He smiles, which turns to gritted teeth when their parents turn back to them. He does his best to ignore them and continue, “I'm going to miss you too.” They embrace again, this time less desperately, but neither is ready to pull away by the time they've reached the socially acceptable limit for two boys their age.
Sirius finds himself a compartment and ignores the others in it for the sake of looking out the window for Regulus. It's difficult to tell because of the crowd, but he's pretty sure he's too late, that his family's already gone. He tries not to show his resentment when two of the others crowd against the window scanning for their parents and waving frantically, grits his teeth particularly hard when the third looks at him and away, as if they might have something in common.
When Lily and Snivellus storm out, James and Sirius look at each other awkwardly for a moment, then James perks up. “So. Do you know any magic?”
“More than you,” Sirius says, and immediately regrets his rudeness, but James just laughs and raises an eyebrow, challenging. Sirius ought to be able to come up with something better, something a little less suspicious, but James won't stop smiling so what comes out is, “Calming charms are second year at least, and I've been doing them since I was eight.”
James at least takes a moment to be impressed, mouthing, “Wow,” before he thinks about it a bit more. “Why?”
“Erm.” Sirius looks around as if there is anyone to rescue him, as if they haven't chased everyone else off. “What?”
“Why calming spells? You could be— You could be— I don't know but I'm sure there's something more interesting than that, so I assume you have a reason.”
And James smiles at him, so he can't be blamed for explaining, “My parents don't like crying. My brother—cries. He didn't take it very well when I left. Idiot almost got us in trouble.”
“By crying?”
“Well, in public,” Sirius clarifies, as if their parents don't object to crying overall, as if they don't consider most everything Regulus has ever done to be weakness.
“In trouble how?”
“They'll probably yell at him a while if they saw.” Finally he notices the furrow of James' brow, adds defensively, “Nothing bad.” Even though screaming is all his parents do, really; they only hit him when he's being really frustrating, and he's gotten good at making sure they never hit Regulus.
He realizes after he's said it that he's made a mistake; James makes a face, unnecessarily theatrical, and says, “For crying?”
“In front of the whole pureblood community, yes. It's embarrassing.” The last word comes out in the same sharp tone his mother favors, and he winces.
“Do you think he deserves it?”
“I think he ought to know better.” Sirius bites his lip. “I don't like when he gets yelled at though. He can't help that he's a crybaby, it doesn't seem fair.” He's not supposed to talk about this, about any of this, but he's never met someone who thought it was this shocking. “I'm worried he'll get in trouble if I go to Gryffindor.”
“Why?” Sirius fights the urge to roll his eyes because this, he's sure, ought to be obvious, even if James comes from a family soft enough that Regulus would make sense in it.
“He'll be home. I won't.”
“That's horrible. It's horrible that anyone would get in trouble for something like this, but that's just not fair.” It occurs to Sirius, too late, that James might do something stupid like tell his parents, who will definitely do something stupid like confront Sirius' parents because they're clearly a family full of do-gooders.
“It's just how things are. I don't see why you're so bothered.”
“Because it's not right! You do see that, don't you, that it's not right? Parents shouldn't treat their kids like that.”
Sirius looks away, because he does understand, honestly, but it is how things are and they are his parents and there must be some reason, something he's done. He rests his head on the cold glass until he feels calmer, eyes crossing as he tries to focus on a drop of water right in front of his nose. When it's been washed away, he looks up. James is still watching.
“I don't like pity.”
“I don't think that's what I'm doing. My mum says I am 'uniquely insensitive,' so it's probably not, you know.”
Sirius laughs, amused despite himself. “What is it then?”
“Mostly concern with some curiosity mixed in? Or the other way 'round, I'm not sure.”
“I don't need your concern.”
“We'll assume it's the other way then, so there's not very much of it.” James sighs when Sirius doesn't respond. “I'm not doing anything mean or anything, I just think we ought to be friends, and as I understand it, you're not supposed to like when your friends get hurt.”
“'As you understand it'?” Sirius says, incredulous as if he can cover up the smile on his face if he's mocking enough. “Have you ever had a friend before?”
Sirius expects to feel better when James blushes; finally he's not the only one off-balance in this conversation, but he's actually a bit guilty, and then relieved when James recovers quickly. “Have you? Your brother doesn't count.”
“Sure he does, just because you've clearly never spoken to someone your age before, doesn't mean you have to insult him.” Sirius pauses, waiting until he thinks he can say what's coming next with some amount of dignity. “So, uh, we're friends then?”
“If you want.” James shrugs, but he looks suddenly shyer than Sirius has been assuming he's capable of.
“I think I'm going to go to Gryffindor.” He winces at how it sounds, like he's going to Gryffindor because James is, and it's true, but that doesn't mean it needs to be so obvious.
“What about your brother? Your parents?”
“They'll just find something else to get mad about. Appeasement's never worked before, and this is seven years of my life. I want to be a Gryffindor.”
“Are you sure that's safe?” James' voice, already high, squeaks at the end, and Sirius laughs like the fear is ridiculous, like he and Regulus haven't figured out exactly how fast they can get out his bedroom window, down the trellis, and onto the street, just in case. “We can be friends if you're in Slytherin. I could even— I mean, my mum was a Slytherin, I wouldn't actually leave.”
This takes a moment to sink in, but when it does, Sirius blushes immediately and has to bite his lip to keep from saying anything stupid. “No, it's— Don't do that for me. I'm tired of hiding. Anyway, maybe if they give up on me, they'll start treating him a little better. Last chance and all that.” He doesn't mention that this will mean taking the brunt of their aggression, but considering James' shock earlier, he gives himself decent odds at getting away with it.
“Didn't you say they would need someone to take their anger out on? If that's true of the year, it must be in general, so—”
“I'll be fine.”
“My mum says your parents are dangerous.”
“My parents say your mum's in bed with blood traitors and is lucky she didn't get disinherited. Is your dad a blood traitor?”
James' smile is somehow even wider than it was when they banded together to mock the bloke whose name Sirius is making a point of forgetting. “Yes, he is. They both are. Does that change your mind about being friends?” He probably means for this to sound angry, suspicious at least, but all he manages is quivering and a bit insecure.
“No!” Sirius says, too fast. “I'm not sure what I think, but I know my parents lie.”
“Good. I wasn't worried or anything, but good. So I—”
“I know what I'm doing. I know my parents better than your mum does, and certainly better than you do, so shove off or I'll make them angry by going to Hufflepuff instead.”
“Fine, fine. Excuse me for being curious.” It's the first time James has properly sat back in his seat since he decided Sirius was
worth talking to, but he doesn't pout for more than a couple seconds before he's back in Sirius' face, grinning. “Tell me about your brother then.”
Regulus,
I hope it's not too bad for you at home. I am sorry if they're taking it out on you that I'm a Gryffindor. I said if, but I know they are and I knew they would before I did; it was selfish. I'm tired of trying to appease them, I feel like we're always running and hiding and we'll never be good enough to stop it happening, but that's easy for me to say when I'm not there and you're the one who gets screamed at. You'll be here next year, I know you can hold out that long. I'll be back at Christmas, and then the year's halfway over and once it's done you'll never be at the house alone again. Don't hate me. You have every right to, but we need to stick together. I think it will be better for you anyway, once they're past the initial anger.
Love,
Sirius
Presumably because of the crying debacle of Sirius' first day, his parents make a point of not going to Regulus', specifically scheduling what they will only refer to as “an engagement” promptly at eleven as a justification for dropping them off an hour early. James gets what he wants, so once he hears, he manages to convince his parents to do the same.
“So.” James grins, leans forward so he's stretched across the compartment and in Regulus' face. “Do you think you'll follow in Sirius' rebellious footsteps?”
Regulus blinks rapidly, surprised though Sirius has warned him about James' enthusiasm. “I'll be in Slytherin, I'm sure.”
“You think? We have fun in Gryffindor. If it's your parents you're worried about—”
“James,” Sirius says.
Regulus puffs out his chest. “I'm not scared of them.”
“I would be, with what Sirius has told me.”
“James,” Sirius repeats. “Quiet.”
“I was just trying to help.”
“Well next time, don't,” Regulus says, cheeks red. “I'm not weak.”
“'Course not. You made it through the year alone with them, don't know if I could.” And Sirius shouldn't say that, not in front of James and not in front of Regulus because it might give him ideas, when there's not supposed to be a way out. “Slytherin's smarter, go there.”
“You think I should?”
Sirius shrugs, looks at James, who's watching them avidly and doesn't have enough shame to pretend otherwise. “Being on their bad side isn't fun.”
“Is it even possible not to be on their bad side?”
“Why don't you let me know after you're sorted, all right?”
“You think I can't handle it.”
“I think if you do it without a reason, you'll regret it.” The realization that it's a mistake comes too late, after James winces as if that's a personal slight instead of a bloody endorsement. Still, he can't exactly let Regulus walk into this unaware, can't let uncharacteristic bravado get him into a situation he can't handle, so there's no option but to continue. “It doesn't matter to me what house you're in. We're brothers no matter what, so don't decide based on what you think it'll do to us. Don't be stupid, all right?”
“I've seen how they treat you. It's bad but it's not—”
“It would be worse if you got sorted into Gryffindor. For both of us. They'd kill me for influencing you.” Sirius is never sure whether this is true or a colloquialism, whether his parents are as bad as he thinks or if he's exaggerating, whining. “They'll be angry with you for doing it, and they'll decide being nice doesn't work, so how do you think it's going to be in that house? You knew it was stupid when you got on this train, so I don't know why you've convinced yourself it's worth it now.” Regulus' eyes dart to James, and Sirius sighs. “He's a Potter, he doesn't know what he's talking about. James, tell him you don't know what you're talking about.”
“I don't know what I'm talking about,” James says dutifully. “You should probably listen to your brother. I'm sorry about what I said.”
Regulus nods, but after that the conversation stagnates, and Sirius is almost relieved when Remus and Peter finally arrive.
Regulus,
We got off on completely the wrong foot and that's my fault. I'm sorry. But Sirius would really appreciate it if we got along, so I think we ought to put it behind us and start over, if I haven't made you too uncomfortable. Besides, he talks about you all the time and I'm pretty sure we would get along just on our own if we'd had the chance. It's worth trying, anyway. I think it would mean a lot to him.
Sincerely,
James Potter
Sirius expects to have at least a bit of trouble convincing James to tutor Regulus in transfiguration. Officially, as the best in the year, they're completely unconcerned and aren't going to spend any time studying, but in private even they're a bit concerned by the prospect of O.W.L.s. Not very, of course, but combined with Quidditch practice it means James doesn't have much in the way of free time, and Sirius can't understand why he'd want to spend any of it tutoring his friend's kid brother.
“All right,” James says without pausing as he writes. “I remember fourth year, that stuff's easy. Just tell me when and where, you know my schedule.”
He schedules their first meeting for right after James' Saturday practice, ignores all of James' half-hearted protests and insists it's the only time they're all available, which is at least close to true. Normally Sirius would watch the whole practice, but instead he gets to the table they've agreed on early, which is a mistake because Regulus does as well. Any other day he'd relish the chance to spend more time with his brother, but now Regulus just takes the opportunity to start in on him again.
“You could tutor me just as well, we both know that. And don't start talking about how he's best in your year again, because I heard it well enough the first hundred times.”
“But he's not just best in the year, he's best in the school, McGonagall even said. You could only do better if you convinced her to tutor you herself.”
“You just want us to like each other. I'm not fooled, and even though I hate to give him credit for anything, I'm sure he's not either. He only agreed because he's as obsessed with you as you are with him.”
“Well, why did you then?”
Regulus laughs. “He's best in the school, isn't he? Anyway, I figure I ought to give a little on this before you try to make me bond with the other two as well, the truly boring ones. Potter's irritating, but that's at least something. Have you ever wondered why I go to sleep every time I'm forced to sit with you lot on the Express?” Regulus grins, looking at Sirius a bit shyly like he thinks Sirius will get angry.
James comes in late with his Quidditch gear still on, winces when he sees them but doesn't apologize. “You know,” he starts, pointing a finger at Regulus, “it occurred to me just as I was coming in that this might all be ploy to get intel on our team. Convenient timing, isn't it, when we're playing Slytherin next weekend?”
“And what would we get out of that then, spying on the team that lost to Ravenclaw last month?” This is a low blow and Regulus has to know it. Gryffindor lost the game because their Keeper got ejected for intentionally hitting the Ravenclaw Seeker in the face with the quaffle and knocking him off his broom for some interpersonal issue Sirius hasn't bothered to find out about. Without a Keeper, the Chasers had to work twice as hard as usual, and, exhausted, they got sloppy. James isn't used to losing, and definitely isn't used to feeling at fault for it, so Sirius expects something bad, for James to snap at Regulus at least, but instead he laughs.
“Sorry, it's just. It's just funny you think that will help you when we've had the Cup every year since I got on the team.”
“You haven't played me yet.”
“You're good, I'll give you that, but you're still only one part of the team. The snitch won't mean much when we're three hundred points up.”
This isn't something Sirius can participate in, but he doesn't mind, not even when they lose a half hour to an argument about who has the better broom. He hated Quidditch as a child, but it makes James happy and its connecting his two most important people, so he can't help the fondness he feels for it now.
They don't get much done that night: Regulus has barely pulled out the essay James is to edit before it's time for dinner. “Well,” James says, rolling it back up to slip in his bag. “I'll look it over tonight and get it back to you. Or—” He glances sidelong at Sirius. “You could eat with us and we could go over it?”
“All right. Sirius has been bragging since you two found the kitchens, but I've still never been. Lead the way.”
~
“Where were you two at dinner?” Remus asks when they finally get back to the dorm hours after they were supposed to and only minutes before curfew.
“The session took longer than we thought. You know how it is, so much to do,” James says, even though the essay is still tucked away, not even half-read.
“You never tutor us,” Peter says, and Remus purses his lips at being included but doesn't say anything.
“I've read over everything you've ever turned in since you got here, and half of Remus' too.”
“And I did the other half.” After a moment of thought, Sirius decides that James' response is better than what he would have said: “He's my brother,” unnecessarily heated, which would not, anyway, explain James' involvement without addressing some ugly truths they're all meant to be avoiding but which he quietly gloats over.
Remus looks up from his parchment, one eyebrow raised. “That's an exaggeration, and besides, you two just write mocking comments.”
“Yes, on the parts that are wrong,” James says. “I can't see what your problem is with that. Anyway, when you have parents like his who are on your arse for getting Es on predictive exams, then maybe I'll give up my Saturday evenings to tutor you.” He's seated on the arm of Sirius' chair, so he stares down at all of them, a mix of annoyed and stern that would have Sirius intimidated if he hadn't very carefully rid himself of the tendency to respond to authority as a survival tactic. As it is though, he does respond to James, and he can't help the hot feeling low in his stomach.
Once Remus and Peter look properly chastened and have gone back to their work, James leans into Sirius and says, masked by the noise in the common room, “I was channeling McGonagall. Was I as good as her?”
“Better. Do you mind that much because I could—”
“No, I just said that so it wouldn't set some type of precedent. He's a sweet kid.”
“He's barely six months younger than you, you prat.”
James must be telling the truth about not being bothered because they fall into a rhythm easily enough. Some days they eat together and other times Regulus begs off, so they walk him to his dorm before heading back to the library, studying in the stacks where the overflow arithmancy books are kept. James has taken to staring at Sirius with undue intensity once Regulus leaves.
“Can I—”
“Yes,” Sirius says, and he feels a little too much like the heroine in a romance novel because he doesn't know what the next word was going to be but it doesn't matter when there's nothing he'd refuse James right now, even if it turns out to be something stupid like picking the quill he dropped earlier.
It's their first kiss except for the one Sirius doesn't count near the end of their first year, when he said, “We should practice,” then added to squash the vulnerable look he could feel on his own face, “For girls,” pouted almost a full week when James repeated, much more enthusiastically, “For girls.” He would count it, he knows, if either of them had kissed anyone else since. James would have told him if he had, and besides, it's clear in the way he kisses.
“So,” James says when he pulls away, and somehow he manages to make one word sound smug, even as he blushes. “Knew it.”
Sirius, I don't know how you've managed to convince yourself you weren't completely in love with me from the beginning, but you're a horrible liar so you must genuinely believe it on some level. You didn't see yourself on that first train ride, so you should just take my word for it that you were completely in my thrall from the first time I talked.
I thought this would make separating for the summer easier, but I really don't know why. It hasn't, of course. I know it's difficult for you to get out of the house, especially with Regulus, but if you ever manage to get permission to visit, you're both welcome.
When Sirius tells Regulus to come with him, he means to sound stern, demanding, to leave no room for argument, but his voice still lilts up at the end, sounds as if there is any option other than leaving together.
“I can't, Sirius, you know I can't.”
“You don't owe them anything.”
“I know.”
“What is it then? Because staying here has got to be the worst idea I've ever heard.”
“It's not that easy, Sirius. I can't just leave. I wish I could; it would make everything a lot simpler, but they are our parents.”
“Never thought of you as sentimental.”
“Of course not. Just soft, right?”
It's not true anymore; Regulus isn't soft like he used to be, and even though Sirius has always known living in this family would do that to him eventually, he doesn't like it. Because not being soft doesn't mean Regulus cries any less, hurts any less. Not being soft didn't stop Sirius from having to find a spell to pump his stomach. All it means is he hides it from their parents better, comes closer to being their perfect son.
“I'm not leaving without you.”
“Yes, you are, because I'll push you out that window myself if I have to. You can't stay here. It's dangerous and I'd never forgive myself if you got hurt.” Halfway through his sentence, like he's planned it, the knocking starts, then their mother's voice screaming that Sirius needs to come out before she comes in; that he's disrespectful and horrible; that this, which he's caused of course, is going to wake his poor brother and he ought to be more considerate. At this, Sirius starts to laugh, and Regulus, smiling, hits him in the stomach.
“You'll make her check my room, shh!”
“Sorry,” Sirius says after the laughter subsides. “I always thought someday they'd think to have Kreacher come in and take me out. I suppose that will never happen now.”
“Shame.” The knocking stops for a moment, which means she's trying unlocking spells and attempting to figure out the anti-apparition spells Sirius has put up. “You don't know exactly how furious they are that they can't crack a sixteen-year-old's lock. Father wrote to Dumbledore asking what kind of 'disobedient trickery' he was teaching you to go with all the 'anti-wizard rubbish.' Maybe they're too humiliated to ask their house elf for help.”
Sirius laughs, but his heart isn't in it anymore. “Do you ever wish things were different? That I'd just gone to Slytherin?”
“Sometimes. Everything would be a lot easier and you wouldn't have to leave. But do you remember when you got off the train after your first year?”
“Not really.” All he remembers is worrying about keeping James away from his parents in case of a confrontation.
“Well, I do. You looked different. Properly happy when before you were always— I mean, we've been happy here, had actual fun, even with them a few times, but it's never lasted. You looked like you thought it could last.”
“Oh.” Sirius sits quietly for a moment, then says with his heart in his throat, “Do you wish I hadn't stopped you from coming to Gryffindor?”
“It wasn't Gryffindor that did it.”
The knocking starts up again before Sirius can figure out what to say to that.
Regulus sighs, disappointment heavy in his voice when he says, “You should go.”
They've gotten better at blocking the door than pushing a wardrobe in front of it like they used to, but there's still no better escape route than the window. Regulus watches him as he braces his hands against the sill. “I doubt the trellis will support you anymore.”
“I sneaked my broom up from the shed weeks ago.”
“You're going to fly? Not take the Knight Bus?”
“I need time to think. Can't do that here, can I?”
Regulus looks him over. “Go straight there, all right? Don't do anything stupid, just go to Potter's.”
“You'll write?”
“Every day,” Regulus says, his smile sad but sincere. “It'll be like you never left.”
James,
Sirius should be arriving at your house soon; he's left for good. I told him to go straight to you, but we both know he won't and is presumably crying in a muggle park somewhere. Floo me if he doesn't show or if something seems more wrong than you'd expect.
Sirius' plan needs to be timed properly, and even though he's now fought Death Eaters determined to kill him, he's still never been more nervous than when he watches the train for Regulus, hoping to get to him before their parents, if they've even bothered to come.
“Hey, Reg,” Sirius says when he steps off the train and onto the platform. Then, with barely a pause, he nods to James. “You know what to do.” And then James is gone with Regulus' trunk shrunk and in his pocket.
“Sirius, get James back here with my belongings or I'll—”
Sirius leans in, grins in a way he hopes is conspiratorial instead of disturbing. “I got a motorbike. You want a ride?”
Regulus says later, voice raised against the sound of the wind rushing past, “What were you going to do if I'd said no? Since you had the bike parked outside.”
“Like you'd have refused.” Sirius forces a laugh like he hadn't been holding himself taut right up until Regulus grinned and nodded. “I know you, remember?”
“Mm.” Regulus makes a noncommittal noise, and the bike rides smooth once it's in the air, so Sirius feels the vibrations trail along his back where Regulus is pressed against him. They've tried a few different ways, and this is the only position where Regulus can make himself audible without screaming. “I almost did though. Refuse.”
“Uh-huh.” Sirius jerks on the throttle, sending them hurtling forward. “Sorry, sorry. He's shaken at first, but then he grins like it's given him an idea. “Hold on.”
“Sirius, what are you going to—”
“Just hold on.” Loops are easy enough considering the hours he's put in riding with James. Regulus' arms tighten around his middle.
As soon as they've landed, Regulus pulls away and glares up at him, one hand on his heaving chest. “Do you know how dangerous that was?”
“I told you to hang on,” Sirius says, but the smirk fades. “I just. Wanted you to have fun, all right? It was stupid and I know it and I'm sorry. You should stay though. I really want you to. I promise you won't regret it.” He raises his eyebrow in return when Regulus doesn't seem convinced. “I've missed you.”
“Maybe you shouldn't have run off then,” he snits, but with no heat behind it.
There's not enough in the flat to justify a tour, but Sirius gives Regulus one anyway, drags him into every room because he wants to show that he has a life now, something proper, something Regulus could have too. He trails along silently until they get to the bedroom, when he looks at the single bed and says, loud enough that James will hear from the couch, “Isn't Potter supposed to be engaged to that muggleborn? Where's he sleep then?”
They have a good vantage point to see the way James freezes, and despite himself, Sirius laughs. “That was rude, Reg. When someone's let you into their home, you should be more considerate. James, I told him ages ago, don't be stupid.” James doesn't respond, but he sinks lower on the couch so he's not visible anymore. “Oh, he's going to pout for your entire visit now, see what you've done. Are you hungry?”
“Bloody hell, yes. The Express only selling sweets seems amazing when you're eleven and you've never had a Chocolate Frog because your parents think they're undignified and the creator was a muggleborn, but it's a little tiring after a while.”
“James will order in. Come on, we'll go kick him off the couch so we can talk all this out.”
“I'm in deep, Sirius,” Regulus says once they've sat down, looking tired as he does. But Regulus has always looked tired, has always had Sirius' downs without having his ups, bouts lying motionless in bed without the bright eyes and inability to keep still. So it doesn't have to mean anything, Sirius assures himself. “I shouldn't even be here right now.”
“Why not?”
“You know why not, don't be willfully stupid.” He sighs. “I don't want to put you in danger.”
“I don't need anyone to protect me.”
Regulus snorts. “You need everyone to protect you, don't be ridiculous. Look.” He stares down at his hands. “My whole life you've been doing everything you could to keep me safe from them.”
“I left.”
“You had to. It was always worse for you, first because they expected more and then because they expected nothing, so they didn't have to worry about going too far. Running away was the only chance you had of getting out of that house alive, but you still stayed longer than you had to. Potter told me he offered his place during your second year.”
“Well you'd just finished spending a year alone with them, I couldn't just—”
“Thank you. It meant.” Regulus pauses, stares down at the fringe on the edge of the couch they bought because it was as far from Grimmauld Place as Sirius could get. “It meant a lot when he told me. He said you didn't want him to mention it.”
“Because it doesn't matter. You'd have done the same for me.”
“Right, exactly.” For a moment Sirius thinks this is Regulus giving in, but if anything he looks more certain than ever. “And you'd do what I'm doing now. Because we protect each other. But this isn't our parents, Sirius, it's the Dark Lord. I. I couldn't forgive myself if after all that I put you in danger to help solve a problem I got myself into. I don't want you involved in this.”
“I—”
“Just trust that I know what I'm doing, all right?”
“I do trust you, it's just.” He runs a hand through his hair, then snorts at the stupid tic he's picked up from James. “We'll talk about it in the morning, all right?” As soon as he says it, he knows Regulus can't help but be gone come morning, and something deflates in him, some of the fight disappears. “Just. Keep in touch, yeah? And if there's ever anything I can do, you'll let me know?”
“Of course.”
They fall asleep there, Regulus against the arm of the sofa and Sirius leaning on him, their half-eaten food abandoned on the folding table. Sirius comes to a bit when James sits down on the other side of him, his weight making them sink in a little deeper. And he's happy, finally, surrounded by the people he cares about.
When he wakes up, he's resting on a pillow and Regulus has disappeared.
James,
You shouldn't tell Sirius I sent this because he'll think it's condescending, but you will because you're a prat and a horrible liar besides. Take care of him. He likes to say I'm emotional, but honestly he's worse off than me because he pretends he isn't. He's not like you, and you know that, but it bears repeating. I never knew how to properly thank you for everything you did for him. I'd hoped death would bring some sort of clarity, but I suppose it hasn't. Maybe I'm not close enough yet. Anyway, I doubt you can ever know just how much it meant.
He can't take losing another person. You're all he has left, so be careful.
-Regulus
Sirius' parents won't bother to tell him about Regulus, and he knows that, because it's not like they grew up together, not like they still write each other as often as possible (once a month, though they try and fail for more). He expects finds out from the Prophet, and has almost come to terms with that.
He rolls over one day and James isn't next to him and that ought not be an omen because James has work, a schedule that can't always cater to Sirius' desire to crawl into bed at five in the morning and stay until three, but it feels like one anyway, or will later. There is a letter wrapped neatly and waiting for him on the table, but he ignores it and checks the paper first thing because that is what he does, because that is tradition now, and because there is some chance it won't make him accept what he already knows, it might not be reported or his parents might not have sent the obituary in time for printing this morning. But there it is, with no ceremony or fanfare. There ought to be a pause, he thinks, before he gets to the right page, some anticipation, but instead he's scanning and Regulus' is there, not even a half-page (the Black family is in decline, declining, declined, both its heirs gone, patriarch dead, matriarch crazy).
He screams, muffled by his fist and then not, they will get a complaint later, to go with the ones about mysterious late nights and owls swooping around. It is too easy to start throwing things, the Prophet and his breakfast dish and the table and the framed photo of him and Regulus he's kept up since the last (first, only) time he was there. He's good at grudges but bad at sustained bouts of anger, so he fades out quickly, finds himself slumped on the floor under the table he's righted just to have something to shield him, the way sometimes they'd hide under his or Regulus' bed when they were young because the small space comforted them, even though their parents couldn't be bothered to come into their rooms back then, and wouldn't have been stopped by a wood frame and thick mattress if they had.
“James sent me. He's out of the country,” Lily says when she apparates into the flat, and Sirius is offended because he doesn't need a babysitter even if he is collapsed on the floor surrounded by the remains of their living room. He doesn't need to be told James is out of the country; James has certainly told him enough, left a note somewhere on the bedside table, and it's irrelevant that he forgot because he doesn't need to be babied, would have remembered eventually and felt slightly less abandoned.
Lily lowers herself to the floor, not next to him but a slight distance away, so he's sitting under the table and she's on the outside like a parent coaxing a child. Except she doesn't say anything, doesn't tell him he's being ridiculous or use the soft tone that's mean to disguise that he's broken. She just sits, not quite watching as he fumbles with the glass shards of the picture frame, slotting them into place instead of just doing it with a wave of his wand. Ten, twenty minutes and there's no reason it should be taking this long but when he finishes he will have to deal with other things, bigger things, the rest of the flat and his brother being dead, so he squints like he can make the small pieces fit, specks thinner than the tips of his fingernails. Everything has its proper place, but he's never had any reason to believe that.
“Here. You missed one.” Lily holds out a piece, edges pinched between forefinger and thumb, doesn't wince when Sirius takes it a bit rough and leaves a spot of red on her hand, waves off the apology. “I've seen worse.” She looks very pointedly at his hands, pulls them away as soon as he's put her offering into place. “Idiot.” His hands are covered in cuts, most shallow, some not, all bleeding sort of sluggishly so the Regulus in the picture (the only Regulus, now, he thinks melodramatically) stares up at them with his eyes under a spot of blood. She traces the open slice of his palm, and this one's deep, puckers and won't seal no matter how she focuses and points her wand. “Healing's supposed to be woman's work, so I made a point of not learning it. Stupid, maybe. Definitely. No worse than you and James not knowing it, I suppose, and I didn't much have time for it anyway.” Some of the smaller ones end up closed, though they're still bright red with blood teeming under the surface of her poor repair job, seams visible.
“I've never had a scar before, not like this.”
“Yeah?” He watches the crown of her head as she leans over him, winding conjured gauze around the hand with the cut so deep he can't flex it.
“Healing. Not that my mother learned either, but we had access to the very best, of course. And James used to heal me in school, just small things and just the one spell. I wouldn't have bothered.”
“Mm.”
“We had a cat for a while when we were young. Not officially, of course, my parents wouldn't have stood for that, but Reg managed to coax it into the garden. He'd sneak it food off his plate, and thank Merlin it was clearly eating somewhere else, because he had no idea what to give it. It's ridiculous, you know, he was maybe seven and if you'd asked, he could tell you how to find a demiguise, skin it, and cure its pelt for a makeshift invisibility cloak, but he didn't know what cats ate. Lots of knowledge, but no idea how to keep anything alive. That's not a skill the Black family values.
“He'd get upset when it didn't want to eat, and I tried to tell him it probably got food other places, but that just made everything worse, like maybe there were two other boys a few houses down who'd also barely made it past their front steps alone and had no friends but each other and this mangy cat. I think he needed to be special to something innocent. It was a stray though, and we got fleas, and our parents found out. I don't know what they did, but it wouldn’t come near us after that. It always liked him more, until it didn't at all.” He's not sure what this has to do with anything now that Regulus is dead, but it feels important.
Lily grits her teeth, and he'd think it's because she needs to concentrate, but she's already tucked the end of the gauze under one of its layers and has been looking at her work with something like satisfaction. “I'm sorry, I'm doing my best to separate Regulus your brother from Regulus the Death Eater long enough to be comforting, but it's very difficult.” Sirius nods, throat suddenly dry because he's never heard someone actually refer to Regulus that way until now.
Sirius wants to justify it, to say it was their parents who pushed Regulus and he never quite believed it and he'd run off, but then he looks at Lily properly and sees the tension she carries all over her body, which has probably been building up as long as she's been in the Wizarding World. “I understand.”
“You can talk about him, I just doubt I'll have anything very comforting to say.”
“When is James getting back? He told me but I don't—” He clutches his head. James must have said several times, along with the reminder that he was leaving in the first place, but his brain is fuzzy, clogged, and he can't follow a train of thought for more than a second or two.
“Tonight. Late, though, technically tomorrow morning. I have work soon. You'll be all right?”
“I don't need a babysitter, Evans. You can leave now if you'd like.”
She laughs, sudden and loud like she plans to stop, but her head rocks forward and she doesn't for almost a minute. “You're lucky I'm charmed by fragile idiots trying to play tough or I would leave. Look, if no one had been there after my parents died, I wouldn't be here now. Metaphysical here, not—” She flicks her fingers twice as if to encompass their flat and shrug off the implications of what she's said, “Here. I'm grateful, and you certainly don't have to be, but either way, I'll stay as long as I can. Besides, even if I left, Peter has next shift, and while normally I would assume he's more scared of you, but. Well, terrifying implies that I was terrified, but if James was anything like he was with me, I doubt you'll convince Peter to stay away.” She smiles. "It was rather sweet. James when he's being protective of you is—different."
~
Sirius,
They won't tell you and you shouldn't have to find out from a newspaper. Or from them, I suppose, even if it were an option, so I'm giving Kreacher this to give to you before it all comes out. I'm glad I won't be there to listen to you blaming yourself. So tedious and frankly a bit insulting. It's very arrogant, isn't it, to think you could have changed everything in my life when you're one person and they're two and there's Bella and the whole family against you and Andromeda and maybe Uncle Alphard. I'm not sure I'd count him though, not really, when he'd barely been around much and now he's dead. And now I'm dead, I suppose, so maybe I should be more tolerant of things like that, but I can’t stop viewing them as retreats.
It's cowardly, you know, and I'm not being judgmental because I'm talking about myself too. Mostly. You'd think in the middle of a war I could at least die in the war proper instead of off to the side, sneaking around and hidden in dark corners, but would you, actually? When have I ever done anything else? I'm not you, I've never been you, no matter how hard I tried, how hard you tried.. I wish I could give you a better story to tell your friends, so you don't have to look at Potter knowing you have a coward Death Eater deserter for a brother. (Is that better than a Death Eater, full stop? Or is it just as disgusting, but weaker?)
You were my only friend, no matter how hard you tried, Potter and I never quite got there, but I did appreciate it. You were so desperate for him to like me, and I always thought you just wanted his approval to confirm that I was worth it, but now I think maybe it went both ways, and if it didn't I'm too dead to be embarrassed so I might as well say.
I don't know why I keep saying that word, dead. I think I'm trying to get myself used to it. I'll be dead soon. By the time you read this. Well before you read this. Hardly after I've written it. It doesn't show, but I've been working on this all day. I thought I'd write to Mother too, but yours took up all my time and I need to put this in motion before I change my mind. I've given her enough already, she doesn't need my words.
You weren't always the best brother, but you were the best I could have had and the best you could have been and I wouldn't trade you for anyone.
I love you, and I'm sorry.
-Regulus