Chapter Text
Sirius should be giving his full attention to the pixies-infested curtains; yet he couldn’t help but steal glances at his brother again and again. He hadn’t seen him up close since graduating Hogwarts, and then Regulus was dead and then Lily and James were dead and Pettigrew was a traitor and Remus hated him and --
And then he got back his godson, his friend, his freedom and his dead brother back all in one night, mere three days ago.
It was staggering, and Sirius was having a hard time finding his footing.
whoosh
This flamboyant 33 years old was nothing like the boy Sirius remembered. The Regulus Sirius used to know was quiet, withdrawn, prefered company of house elves to his housemates up until the third year when he made Seeker on the Quidditch team. A perfectionist, a soft idiot who would bend over backwards to get a smidge of their parent’s approval.
Watching the adult in front of him Sirius couldn’t help but wonder if young Regulus’ wasn’t repressed rather than quiet by nature.
Maybe it was because of the 14 years without the ability to articulate his thoughts. But Regulus loved to talk. He talked to Kreacher and the paintings, he rambled at the nasties crawlies he shook out of throw pillows, he narrated or sang to himself when nobody else was in the room. He wasn’t loud. He never raised his voice, not when he fought Sirius on throwing out “priceless” family heirlooms, not when he stubbed his toe on a table. But he was never silent.
Sirius once caught him passed out on a divan talking from his sleep.
Right now, Regulus was singing under his breath as he was dealing with his own set of infested curtains. Him and Dumbledore agreed that the Black’s ancestral house was the safest place for them to reside in while their trials and Regulus’ legal resurrection were in motion. Turns out the Grimmauld’s Place 12 has been cankering since mother’s death in 1984, the batty house elf only tending to her portrait and leaving the rest of the house to dust. Sirius half-heartedly hoped the foul creature would have a heart attack and drop dead upon seeing his favourite Master alive and well; but no such luck. Remus dragged him away to the kitchen so that the two had some privacy but Sirius was sure there had been tears on both sides. Regulus’ eyes at least were red when he joined them in the kitchen. “Kreacher will be here shortly with cleaning supplies,” was the only thing he said.
The ease with which Regulus took charge was also new. Back in the day he was all too happy to follow instructions, found safety in rules and protocols. Now, apparently armed with experience of watching countless muggles clean, he declared the kitchen and the bathrooms to be the priorities. Under his lead they could eat off the floor by the midnight. Next step was apparently Toss or Keep, in which everything that wasn't screwed to the floor was either thrown out or packed safely and stored in a hut Regulus magically erected in the backyard.
He didn’t wait for somebody else to decide, he didn’t ask permission. It felt like he knew perfectly where his place in the world was, and all he had to do was to move the world around him.
He has taken to wearing muggle clothes, much to Kreacher’s chagrin; black seemed to still be his favourite colour, but it was newly accompanied by splashes of rainbow in unexpected places. Today it was a headband keeping his hair out of his face and mysteriously, his shoelaces. It was unobtrusive but still somehow held more personality than Regulus’ entire school career.
The tune on his lips Sirius didn’t recognise but it was upbeat, and Regulus looked content, swishing great-aunt Cassiopea’s wand (the only wand they found could tolerate him; it would have to do until his legal paperwork came through) to the rhythm.
They’re creepy (swish) and they’re cooky (swish) na naa na na… (a harder shake on the curtains) spooky; they’re altogether ooky, the Adams family! (swish swish)
It was at the exceptionally joyful Adams Family!s when Regulus looked up from his work and their eyes met. Sirius fought the impulse to quickly look away. Instead he looked away slowly.
He didn’t know what was keeping him from talking to Regulus. He had never been one to avoid confrontations, that has always been Regulus’ thing. It was almost like their personalities have switched. The little brother self-assured and the older floundering. He flicked his wand at a pixie with more force than necessary, venting some of his frustration.
Regulus’ humming picked up again after a short, wobbly minute. The song was different, soft and slow and yearning.
Hmm nana naa na na, na naa nahmmm… desire was too strong to put up a fight, hmm don’t understand the way I feel although it feels right… Hmm nana naa na na, na naa... tonight...
Sirius glared harder at the curtains in his hands, knowing and hating that this particular song was not sung for Regulus’ pleasure. No, it was for him, the supposedly brave Gryffindor, from a man he had mistakenly considered to be an idiot coward for so long.
In your eyes there’s a sign of intensity, I sense an atmosphere, no need to hide from the way that you feel inside, there’s nothing left to fear,
Sirius took a deep, sharp breath; shut his eyes, shoulders hunched over. The song got clearer, closer, but no less tender.
If only for tonight... don’t be a stranger, I want to take this chance, risk it all for you, hmmhm... what I’m gonna do… if only for tonight… Don’t be a stranger. I want it all... from you tonight.
You’re on my mind all the time, I really shouldn’t hmmm na na... tonight, But the more and more I think of it, the more it just seems right. I really... shouldn't be here tonight.
He felt the heat of Regulus' body on his back, felt Regulus hook his chin over his shoulder, felt the weight of it, felt his brother’s arms elope him in an embrace. He could feel the vibrations of Regulus’ chest, the song in his ear both gentle and painful.
Now… I don’t know who I really am, I’m lost without a trace, So take me high, take me low, anyhow you know, and help me if you can.
If Sirius still knew how to cry, he would be sobbing as Regulus held him closer and started swaying them from side to side, a motion as soothing as Lily’s hugs. Oh Merlin. Oh Merlin --
If only for tonight, don’t be a stranger, I want to take this chance, risk it all for you; knowing what I’m gonna do, if only for tonight… Don’t be a stranger.
Why... I don’t know... I’m in too deep to say no, hold me close, don't let me go... I want to take this chance, risk it all for you, it’s what I’m gonna do...
With a choked off sound, Sirius wrapped his arms around Regulus’ and held on. Just held on.
There was still a great deal of things they had to talk about but for now, this was enough.
whoosh
Downstairs, the front door shut closed. Walburga’s portrait started screaming of half-breeds and filth. Regulus huffed and reluctantly let go of his brother - but not before giving him a parting squeeze. “I’m going to paint her mouth over,” he declared, “and if that doesn’t work, we’ll knock the wall down.” He patted Sirius’ shoulder and stalked off to help Lupin shut up the caricature of their mother.
His steps were as light as a cat’s and his lips moved just as quietly, rehearsing the plan for the next few days. Being a human was challenging after so long, but recovering from 12 years of Azkaban must be harder. He could be okay as long as Sirius needed him. He could be whatever Sirius needed him to be for as long as he needed to be.