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Sirius and Remus had been cleaning their apartment (it was an absolutely disgusting dumpster fire) when the fireplace roared and green light filled the living room. Sirius turned from where he was trying to reach behind the couch to get the last of the fallen CDs and book sleeves. Out of the fireplace stumbled Regulus, covered in blood and distress etched into every part of him.
“Reggie? Reg, what’s wrong?” Sirius demanded, rushing for his little brother. “Reg, you need to tell me what’s wrong.”
The eighteen year old said nothing as he clutched Sirius tightly. Sirius could feel it as each one of Regulus’s tears splattered onto his shirt, soaking it quickly.
“Remus! Get Lily and James here now!” he shouted to his boyfriend, who had already come running when he had heard Sirius asking Regulus what was wrong.
Remus just nodded and left the apartment via Floo, a determined worry in his eyes.
Sirius lifted Regulus easily and carried him to the dark grey couch, setting him down gently. He kneeled beside him. “Regulus, what’s wrong?” His brother’s cries only increased. “Please, Reg, tell me what’s wrong. I can’t help you if I don’t know what’s wrong.”
“You can’t help me, not this time Siri,” the boy whispered, voice horse and thick.
“Yes I can, I can always help you,” he insisted. “What happened? Are you hurt? Where did the blood come from?”
Regulus whispered, “It’s not my blood.”
Sirius’s blood ran cold. It was as if some kind of cruel ice monster was gripping his heart and yanking on it. The blood wasn’t Regulus’s blood. Usually that fact would calm him, but there was so much blood . Whose blood was it?
“Whose is it?” he asked gently.
“A muggle family’s.”
Sirius closed his eyes. He sighed inaudibly. When he looked at Regulus again, he made sure to keep his expression and voice even and calm. “Did they die?” The boy nodded, tears falling faster. “Did you kill them?”
“I’m a killer,” he spat out, bitter and broken like the family portrait that was collecting dust under the very couch he sat on.
“Did you kill them directly? Are you the one who delivered the killing blow?” Sirius rephrased.
“Might as well of.”
Sirius’s heart unclenched ever so slightly. Regulus hadn’t actually killed the muggle family. His baby brother wasn’t a murder. Thank Merlin.
“Then you’re not a killer,” he said, sure and confident in his words.
“Yes I am.”
“No you’re not.”
“Yes I am, Sirius!” Regulus shouted. His head snapped up and fiery grey eyes laced with bitter brokenness bored into Sirius’s soul. “I killed them! I’m a killer! A monster!”
“No you are not. You aren’t the one who delivered the final blow, you didn’t kill them.” Sirius’s voice was firm, it was the same voice he had used when they were kids and Regulus talked about running away, consequences be damned. (The irony in that memory was unbelievable and Sirius had both cried and laughed when he had realized the full extent of that irony.)
“I might as well have killed them! I’m the one who used the cutting curse, who used the Cruciatus!” Regulus’s gaze lost its fire then, and all that was left was the gaze of a hurt boy who didn’t know what to do.
“You’re not a killer,” Sirius repeated once more. Regulus was silent. He stood up. “Come on, let’s get you cleaned up before James and Lily get here to take you home.”
“It’s fine, Padfoot,” a slightly gruff voice said from behind Sirius.
The brothers turned to see James, hair messy and dressed in the ridiculously bright green tracksuit that Regulus and Lily had bought him as a joke. He had a tense smile and his eyes were caring, though laced with worry.
“I can just take Reg home now.”
“Do you want help getting him home or are you alright?”
“I’ve got it.”
Sirius nodded and stepped aside to allow James to pull Regulus up from the couch. With one last nod full of silent communication and promises to help Regulus as much as possible, the two left, leaving Sirius and Remus (who had come through the fireplace just after James) alone once more.
Sirius closed his eyes against the stinging tears. Sirius knew that Regulus had been inducted into Voldemort’s ranks; he knew that he had to do unspeakable things to survive. But he had never truly seen the aftermath. His brother wasn’t a murderer. If Regulus said he hadn’t killed the muggle family himself, Sirius believed him. If he said he hadn’t delivered the killing blow, then he wasn’t a murderer. Regulus Black wasn’t a murderer.
Arms wrapped around Sirius and pulled him close. Sirius leaned into Remus’s chest, absorbing the comfort he provided greedily.
“He’s not a murderer,” Sirius choked out. “I know him, he’s not a killer.”
“I know, Love,” Remus assured him. “Everything will work out, you’ll see.”
Sirius could only hope with all his might that Remus was right.