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Sirius Black
1
There’s a sharp bark of laughter from the Slytherin table and a girl shrieking. Sirius usually ignores that table and every occupant, but the laugh is familiar. He turns and drops his jaw at the sight before him. Regulus swings his arm over a pretty girl's shoulder, her face buried in his chest. He laughs as she does, chin dug into her scalp.
“Moony, you seeing this?” Sirius hisses, elbowing his friend in the side.
“I'm seeing it,” James says, and his eyes are focused on Regulus.
Remus nods. “Me too.”
“What is going on over there? I haven't,” Sirius pauses, “I haven’t seen him laugh like that in, in, well- years.” He looks behind him again, and the girl has rested her head on Regulus’s shoulder, eyes a little teary from laughing. Someone across from her says something, and she keels over in laughter again, Regulus too, a hand clapped over his mouth to reign in the sound.
Remus gives Sirius a comforting pat on the shoulder. “Don’t get too upset.”
“Yeah. Leave the wanker alone, you’ve got a better brother now,” James says, giving Sirius a soft smirk. Nodding, Sirius turns back to his own table and focuses on shoveling even more food down his throat in the most unBlack way he can. But he can’t get the sight of Regulus laughing out of his mind.
—
2
It’s the same girl again, with the dark black hair and the pretty eyes. She’s shivering, tiny snowflakes in her hair and her nose tinged red. Regulus lobs a snowball at her and she shrieks, falling back in the snow. With a cry, the girl shoots up, snow in her hands, throwing it haphazardly at Regulus. He’s laughing (again), and suddenly joined by a group of Slytherins, all looking stiff, awkward, and angry in the snow, at least until the pretty girl throws snow at them. At that, the other teens finally act their age, throwing snow around.
Sirius watches dumbstruck, eyes wide, and jaw a little agape. He never could’ve imagined perfect little Regulus having a snowball fight, especially not with his uptight, blood purity-obsessed friends.
Standing beside him, Lily and James look a little shocked too. At least, until Lily shakes her head slightly and begins to walk away from their windowpane.
“You're- you’re not shocked?” Sirius calls after her.
She shrugs. “They may be tossers that hate me, but they’re still people,” then she looks straight at Sirius, “and Regulus is still a person.”
James goes to follow her, leaving Sirius staring out this godforsaken window. He watches Regulus play and wonders how this boy outside could ever parallel with the fifth year who was gearing up to take the dark mark.
—
3
“Professor, I swear I didn’t do anything that bad…” Sirius trails off as he sees Regulus arguing with Headmaster Dumbledore a few steps down the corridor. Dumbledore towers over Regulus, but the young teen is incensed. Sirius watches Regulus throw his hands up in the air and stalk away, then burying his hands in his hair.
Dumbledore follows, putting a hand on Regulus’s shoulder. He flinches away, ripping his body away from Dumbledore. Sirius just knows that conversation has something to do with You-Know-Who and the Death Eaters, because what else does Regulus even do if not pine for the death of muggle-borns? Sirius looks away and back at McGonagall, who is pointedly not looking at the two.
“Let’s go. You’ve got detention, and you’re going to help me clean desks,” she orders, beginning to walk the other way.
Sirius glances back one more time and sees Regulus sliding down the wall, head buried in his hands; his dark curls obscure the rest of his face. Dumbledore looks down on Regulus and seems to be speaking. Sirius wonders what they are talking about, and how Regulus hasn’t noticed his presence by now.
“I still can’t believe James doesn’t have to help you clean too,” Sirius whines at McGonagall. Rolling her eyes, she continues to walk, beckoning the seventh year to her.
“Because, Sirius, he’s not the one who broke three sinks in the prefect’s bathroom. You did.”
Groaning, Sirius follows, mind still on his younger brother.
He finds out, not three days later, that Regulus had gotten into an inflammatory fight with the Headmaster. That girl he’d been spending all that time with, Prince something, was a muggle-born, a secret that had been revealed just a few days prior. She’d been harassed immensely by Slytherins, their actions bordering on violence. Apparently, Regulus hadn’t liked that, bringing it up to the Headmaster, who’d refused to act.
Sirius is shocked, to say the least. He says as much to Remus, questioning the validity of the gossip chain. Regulus? Arguing with the Headmaster? Arguing with other Slytherins? Sticking up for a muggle-born? If Sirius hadn’t seen Regulus with Dumbledore firsthand, there would’ve been no way in hell he would’ve believed any of it. But now? He was unsure.
Remus confirms the rumours, hearing the whispers of them flooding around the prefects as well. Sirius watches his brother that week, seeing him shy away from his friends for days, their glowering threatening Regulus. At a certain point, it seems as if Regulus cannot hold a grudge anymore, slotting back in with his friends.
—
4
“C’mon you wankers, it’s time for us to graduate!” James calls, cupping his hands around his mouth. He smiles widely and throws an arm around Lily’s shoulders, placing a kiss on her cheeks. “Into the world, we go!”
“And to Voldemort, we go to fight,” Sirius mutters.
James overhears and rolls his eyes, “if you were closer, I’d smack you,” he calls. Sirius laughs and walks over to the couple. They stand in the center of the common room, surrounded by their friends and those that will miss them when they are gone. Each graduate’s robes are starched and stiff, except for Sirius’s. He had refused to give them to the elves to make proper, instead choosing to look wrinkled and messy, a fine ending to life as a Gryffindor.
Rubbing his palms together, Sirius exits the Gryffindor common room, followed by his friends, and Remus, who throws an arm over his shoulder.
“Onwards!” Sirius shouts, waving his wand in the air. The group laughs and heads for the main lawn. Every year the graduates would get up on stage, their names called, and be given their papers: an official sign that their time at Hogwarts has finished. Graduation is done by house; Slytherin is last, after Gryffindor and Ravenclaw. So, most Slytherins do not deign to show up to any other graduations.
Sirius stands next to his closest friends, head held high, and a wide smile on his face. Names are being called out, and Sirius knows he’s next. His name is called, and the audience erupts in cheers, McGonagall standing, eager to rid the school of their troublemakers. Sirius smiles and is now a Hogwarts alumni. And then he sees him, skulking in the corner, hidden by the shadows of the castle, where Regulus watches Sirius. His face is hidden by the darkness, but Sirius can see the boy clapping, and through all the animosity he feels at seeing him, Sirius is almost grateful. This goodbye could not be better.
—
5
“Padfoot! There’s a letter from the Ministry for you!” James shouts from below.
Sirius calls back, “I’ll be down!” He finishes wrapping his arm, a leftover wound from a fight with a Death Eater. Wrinkling his nose thinking about them, Sirius begins his trek down the Potter home staircase.
His mind leads him to Regulus. He hadn’t seen Reg in over a year. He knew Regulus was officially a Death Eater, having gotten the Dark Mark the summer after Sirius left Hogwarts, and it was an easy thing to get his head around. Regulus had been obsessed with blood purity as a child, and had run with the Slytherin freaks, all worshipping Voldemort; the idea that Regulus had finally gone all the way was very much feasible.
With their masks, it was difficult to tell Death Eater from Death Eater, so Sirius remained unsure if he’d seen Regulus out there, fighting. He was still so young, and knowing their mother, Walburga wouldn’t have allowed him to skip too much school, right?
Making his way down to the first level, Sirius sees James waving a letter in the air. Sirius snaps his wand up and accios the letter, ripping it open as it flies towards him. He hurriedly reads through the letter and stumbles back a few steps.
Dear Mr. Black,
We regret to inform you that your brother, Regulus Black, has officially gone missing. We will not be conducting an official search. You may reach out to his next of kin for further information.
The Ministry of Magic
“Oh. Oh .” Sirius whispers, and he falls back, bracing himself on the stairwell.
James rushes over, “What? What did it say?”
“Regulus is missing,” Sirius spits, and suddenly with all the animosity he feels for the Ministry for refusing a search, it all comes rushing in for Regulus. Regulus, his little little little brother, had joined up with the Death Eaters. He was probably holed up somewhere with them, purposefully allowing the world to believe he was gone.
“For how long?” James asks, and Sirius shoves the letter at his chest. Taking one glance at it, James sends off a Patronus to Remus, knowing Sirius would need his comforting words.
And then another owl flies in, screeching as it drops a letter on the Potter dining table, and leaves immediately. Sirius jumps up, recognizing the bird, even after years of being away from that damn house. He snatches the letter and rips it open, anxious to see the insides.
Sirius,
Regulus is dead.
The letter is unsigned, but Sirius knows it’s true, the tapestry obviously revealing Regulus’s end. Sirius crushes the letter in his hand, and dry heaves a little. He truly hadn’t expected Regulus to die. Truly. Regulus was smart, he understood things that Sirius couldn’t manage to have a grasp on. He was dead? There was no way. No way.
—
+ 1
All these years. All these years and he never knew. Sirius had never known that Regulus had defected. Had never known Regulus was killed by his own means, rather than at the hands of Death Eaters. Had never known Regulus was killed trying to defeat Voldemort.
But somehow, Sirius wasn’t surprised. His strong-willed, determined, angry little brother, dying because he realized he was in over his head? That made sense to Sirius. And he knew that Regulus didn’t regret going out that way.
Some days, Sirius regretted not knowing Regulus. He regretted not trying harder to understand his young brother. He regretted letting Regulus die at 16.
But other days, he didn’t. Other days he was reminded of the pain Regulus had put others through, and the company he’d kept. Other days he was reminded of the abuse Regulus’s mere existence had forced upon him.
But, there was always an underlying pride. And when it came time for Sirius to go as well, when it came time for him to leave without a goodbye, Sirius believed maybe, just maybe, he’d get to know his baby brother now.
Regulus Black
1
He can’t stop laughing . Viv had been explaining how she tripped and fell down a flight of stairs, landing at Dumbledore’s feet, and the image created is quite possibly the funniest he could’ve conjured. He hasn’t laughed this hard in ages. Viv buries her face in his chest, her giggles tickling him. Taking a few deep breaths, Viv lifts herself from his chest, but then Rosier makes a dirty quip from across the table, and the laughter starts all over again. Regulus has to cover his mouth to keep the loud peals of laughter from escaping. He knows this is the loudest the Slytherin table has been in ages, and he knows that Sirius is probably looking at him, but for some reason, Regulus can not bring himself to care.
Viv clutches his arm as tears cascade down her cheeks, her pretty smile spread wide across her face.
“Merlin, I haven’t laughed this hard in ages,” Regulus murmurs into her ear, and she turns to smile at him, planting a chaste kiss on his cheeks.
“Well I’m glad you have now,” she whispers.
—
2
“Reg, Reg, Reg come on .” Viv cries as she walks backward, anxious to get away from Regulus’s smug smirk and the snow in his hands.
He cackles and tosses the snowball at her. She shrieks and falls back into the snow. Regulus laughs, and laughs, as she struggles to get up, snow all in her hair, and covering her robes.
She shakes a threatening finger at Regulus, “I’ll get you for this!” Regulus watches as she haphazardly picks up the snow, and tosses it at him. Most of it ends up landing at her own feet, but the little that does hit Regulus sends chills down his back. He laughs, though, and the loud sounds attract the attention of the rest of the Slytherins, who’d been coming from lunch in the Great Hall.
They stand awkwardly in the snow, the ends of their long robes covered in layers of snow. Suddenly, Rosier has snow on his face, wiping it off, and stares at the rest of them.
“Who? Who did that?” He demands, the icy water slipping off his chin. Viv giggles incriminatingly. “Oh, oh now you’re going to get it!” Rosier shouts, and kicks snow at her, covering Avery with snow as well. He shouts and gets himself involved in the fight, and soon enough they are all covered in snow and laughing.
Regulus sees Sirius watching from one of the corridors, eyes focused on the scene in the Courtyard. Regulus ignores his brother’s dumbstruck expression. It might hurt sometimes, but Viv’s smile from beneath the snowflakes heals some of that pain.
—
3
“Headmaster, Headmaster please ,” Regulus begs, his hands folded together as he attempts to get the severity of the situation across. Just yesterday morning, Rosier had figured out that Viv was not , in fact, a pureblood from the continent, but a Mudblood. It had sparked so much anger, violence, and vitriol towards her. Rosier had railed on Viv for being a Mudblood, with Avery threatening to maim her if she came near him. It hadn’t stopped at just those two, but with almost all of Slytherin saying horrible, terrible things to her, and threats from just about everyone (including her roommates).
Regulus had barely reigned in his own disgust, the loud sobs escaping from Viv the only thing keeping him from spitting at her. But after Avery, and a multitude of other Slytherins threatened to hurt her, going as far as leaving notes in her books and her satchel, Regulus couldn’t stand and watch as Viv was scared for her life . He’d come to the headmaster, hoping, hoping Dumbledore would help.
“No, Mr. Black. Unfortunately, I will not be able to help Ms. Prince. Sometimes being a teenager is hard, and Ms. Prince must learn.” Dumbledore says, looking at Regulus over the rims of his glasses.
Regulus throws his hands in the air and lets out a silent scream. “Why, Why?” He says and turns to walk away, stalking a few steps down the corridor. Dumbledore reaches out and places a gentle hand on Regulus, intent on stopping him.
As soon as the Headmaster’s hand lands on Regulus, he flinches away, pulling himself from Dumbledore’s grasp. Although Regulus had come for help, Dumbledore was still the same-old Muggle-loving schmuck who hated Slytherins.
“What?” Regulus spit, rounding on Dumbledore.
“I’m afraid that the company Ms. Prince keeps may be the cause of her torment,” the old man says, stroking his beard lightly.
Burying his head in his hands, Regulus slides down the side of the dark corridor. He’s disappointed but not surprised. Dumbledore was supposed to help them all. But everyone knew he despised Slytherins and would do anything to put even more of them down.
Glancing upwards, he sees McGonagall at the end of the hall, turning her head, and quietly going back down the corridor, so as to not disturb him and Dumbledore. Next to her is Sirius and Regulus buries his head even further into his hands, his curls obscuring his face, hoping that Sirius hadn’t seen him.
“Mr. Black, I’d advise you to help your friend rather than sitting here…”
Regulus drowns out the rest of Dumbledore’s words with the thoughts in his own head. Everything floats in his head, the thoughts of the Dark Mark, the want, the want , for it. The anger he feels towards the other Slytherins, the disgust he feels towards Viv, and the difficulty he has wrapping his head around Viv being a Mudblood.
In the end, Dumbledore is no help, empty words the only thing he is good for. Viv sobs and cries and cries for days, and for weeks, but he cannot touch her. Cannot speak to her. She- she is unworthy of magic.
—
4
Today, the seventh years graduates. They will receive their papers on stage and they will leave Hogwarts the day after next. And with them, Sirius will leave as well. Regulus has been in and out of classes, and he’s been avoiding the halls. Two months until he receives the Dark Mark, and preparations must be made. But Sirius graduates today, and Regulus feels a pull towards the front of Hogwarts, towards the front lawn where Sirius will step up and finally graduate.
Regulus stands in a corner, hidden carefully by the shadows of the school, and just watches. He watches his brother stumble onto the lawn, that bright smile directed towards his friends, the crowd. He sees the way Sirius stares at Remus sometimes, and though Regulus feels a churning in his gut at that, he ignores it.
Dumbledore calls out Sirius’s name, and Regulus watches the crowd applaud, the shouting deafening. He sees McGonagall stand, whooping and cheering for Sirius. Unconsciously, Regulus begins to clap as well and does not stop. He knows Sirius has spotted him, but he also knows this may be the last time Sirius sees him before the Dark Mark and does not regret coming and watching.
Sirius has graduated, and now Regulus is free.
—
5
Regulus is not free. It is, in fact, in these trying times in which he wishes Sirius was around. Sirius had always known how to fight back, how to argue, how to angrily defend himself. Regulus… didn’t. And now his left forearm always burns, and he feels like his skin is peeling off. And the screams of Mudbloods haunt his nightmares, and their sobs penetrate his daydreams.
He knows he’s wrong, he understands this was the wrong decision. And after hearing about those godforsaken Horcruxes that the Dark Lord is making, Regulus can only feel shudders. How can he tamper with the very fabric of life and death? And though the thought of anyone finding out he no longer supports each of the Dark Lord’s endeavors was unfathomable.
So, he conducts everything in secret. The research, the constant away trips, the crying, the nightmares, the interrogations, he keeps it all, all to himself (except Kreacher does know. Because Kreacher doesn’t judge him. Because Kreacher will always shriek, “for Master, anything,” and Regulus knows he could trust the old house-elf).
And on one dark morning, Regulus knows his time is up. He knows his time has come, and he knows he must carry out the duties he believed he’d been put on this world for.
There is no time for letters, or for apologies, or for explanations. Simply, there is no time left. Figuring out the next step is obvious. And it’s easy too. It’s easy to allow the Inferí to grab his arms and drag him under. It’s easy to clamp his mouth shut and not scream in terror. It’s so very easy to believe, maybe, just maybe, this may redeem him of all his sins. And maybe, just maybe, he may, once again, meet his brother.