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December 24, 1971
“I’m glad you’re home,” Regulus whispered, nuzzling his nose in the crook of Sirius’ neck. His eyes were shut tight, his face buried in the softness of Sirius’ curls. It felt like aeons since he’d last been like this; at peace. Not alone in a too-big house that seemed empty without his brother’s presence bounding off the walls. He melted into the embrace and just breathed — breathed in the scent of Sirius’ shampoo, his warmth, his protection. ‘I missed you’ he didn’t have to say as he snuggled closer and Sirius hummed in agreement nevertheless.
“I know,” Sirius sighed, wrapping his arms tighter around Regulus, his chin resting on top of his head. “Me too.”
They lay in the dark of Regulus’ bedroom, the only light a singular ray of moonshine seeping through a crack in the curtains. The house was quiet. Mother had retired early for the evening while the rest of the Blacks went over to the Malfoys for a Christmas soiree. It had been a dull affair with stiff collars and stiffer conversation, and neither of the boys had protested when Kreacher took them home and put them to bed.
“Will you tell about Hogwarts?” Regulus asked, feeling tired but willing himself to stay awake. He liked not having to share the Heir to the House of Black with the rest of the world for a while; he wasn’t going to let something so banal as sleep get in the way of that. Sleep could wait.
“Again?” Sirius chuckled, “I don’t think I have any stories left.”
“Tell me anyway,” he said and Sirius did; about the castle, the grounds, the classes, the professors… Regulus drifted on the slow cadence of his voice, occasionally humming or quietly giggling at his favourite parts. He knew most of them by heart now — between the letters Sirius had sent and the few days he had been home, Regulus was hanging on his every word.
Sirius seemed happy. Regulus couldn’t help but feel a pang of jealousy for his older brother. Life at Grimmauld Place had been dull on his own and Regulus felt lonely at times. Father was away for work most days, and with Mother being unwell sometimes, he only had Kreacher and his tutors to spend time with. Aunt Druella came by from time to time but she’d often bring Bellatrix, and Regulus rather avoided her whenever he could.
“I can’t wait to go,” Regulus whispered as Sirius wrapped up another anecdote involving an angry caretaker and his cat, a broken curfew, and a large amount of silver polish.
“You will love it,” Sirius promised.
“How is Gryffindor?” Regulus asked, the sound barely more than a whisper. It was silly, but even in the shelter of his bedroom, he didn’t dare speak that name out loud. It felt like he was breaking some unspoken rule by bringing up Sirius’ sorting. He didn’t want to get him in trouble; it was clear how the rest of the family thought not being in Slytherin was some kind of betrayal of their values. Still, Regulus was curious about his brother’s House and the warm blanket they laid underneath was as much a shield protecting them from the outside world as any.
“Gryffindor isn’t as bad as you think it is,” Sirius said, tucking a stray lock of hair behind Regulus’ ear. It tickled his cheek, making him shiver. “Our common room is in one of the highest towers and it’s really cosy up there. The kids are nice. I like my friends.”
“The Potter kid?”
“James, yeah. He’s great,” Sirius smiled. “He talks about Quidditch a lot, but he knows how to pull a prank so he’s alright.”
“He sounds like you,” Regulus mumbled, enjoying the way Sirius softly chuckled at that.
“Peter’s a bit weird,” Sirius continued, stroking Regulus’ hair absentmindedly, “but he’s kind enough and good at exploring the castle. He found three hidden passages in our first week.” Regulus could picture Sirius marauding about the castle with his faceless friends already. Always up for a foolish adventure or ridiculous antics. “And then there’s Remus. You’ll like him best. He’s quiet, like you — always with his nose in a book,” Sirius said, accentuating his words by booping Regulus on the nose.
“What’s his last name?” Regulus asked, pointedly ignoring that childish gesture. He was ten, for God’s sake. Not a child anymore.
“He’s… You wouldn’t know it,” Sirius sighed. He was quiet for a moment and Regulus glanced up at him through his lashes. A frown adorned Sirius’ face, a sad look in his eyes. “Names, blood status, the Sacred Twenty-Eight… none of that matters in Gryffindor. They take people for who they are, not their family.”
“They wouldn’t take me, not even when Slytherin turns me down,” Regulus huffed, sounding more bitter than he intended. “What do you reckon our family would consider worse; Gryffindor or Hufflepuff?”
Sirius propped himself up on an elbow and winced at the sudden movement. A hiss, an almost inaudible sliver of sound, found its way over his lips before he could stop it. Regulus heard it — felt it, in the way Sirius tensed against him.
A stab of guilt pained his chest. He hardly asked Sirius to jump into the breach every time Mother had a fit; he could handle his own now — had done so since Sirius had left. Still, Sirius did like he always had and waved Regulus’ protest away like it was nothing.
“What do you mean, they wouldn’t take me?” Sirius glanced down at him, searching his face with a hard look but Regulus couldn’t bear to meet his gaze.
“I couldn’t do it,” Regulus whispered, fidgeting with the hem of Sirius’ pyjamas. “The hunt, I mean.” He swallowed thickly around the lump in his throat. “I couldn’t kill the deer. Father was cross with me. He said I disappointed him.” He hated how small he sounded but something about the shared experience of not living up to expectations told him from the deepest part of his heart that Sirius would never hold that against him.
“Oh, Reg…” And just like that, the warmth of Sirius’ embrace returned. “Look at me,” Sirius ordered, lifting Regulus’ chin with a single finger. He tried to bite down the burning sensation in his throat and the wetness in his eyes but Sirius stripped him bare with a flash of steely grey like only he could. Like only a brother could.
“Listen to me,” Sirius said, wiping Regulus’ tears away with his thumb. “Any House would be mad not to take you. You can have your pick from any House you want and they would all be better for having you.”
Regulus bit the inside of his cheek. He didn’t want any House. He wasn’t like Sirius, who lived by his own rules and was prepared to face down anyone who told him otherwise. Regulus admired that in his brother, maybe envied it, even. He wasn’t brave, or born to stand out. He needed Slytherin. He wanted Father to be proud.
“Besides,” Sirius shrugged, “I’m the family disappointment, remember? There can only be one in every generation of Blacks so you’ll have to find something else.”
Regulus choked out a guttural sound that was at best a mix of a laugh and a watery sob. “You’re not a disappointment,” he said. “Not to me.”
“Neither are you,” Sirius said, squeezing his waist. “You’re better than any of us. You should have been Heir, not me.”
Regulus knew Sirius was only saying that to make him feel better. He didn’t mind though, not really. Not when Sirius held him close and promised to always have his back through a simple embrace. Not when he was warm and cosy and his eyes were feeling heavy. He tried to hide a yawn in his pillow but it was in vain.
“Am I boring you?” Sirius teased. He pinched Regulus’ side, making him squeak. Sirius ignored him as Regulus tried to swat Sirius’ fingers away. “You should go to sleep, Reggie. It’s been a long day.”
Regulus swallowed thickly. “I— Er… there’s something else,” he whispered. Maybe he could be brave, this once. He twisted his fingers in Sirius’ robes and buried his face in his neck again. Speaking was easier that way, away from sharp glances and piercing eyes. “Mulciber told me something, at the Christmas party,” he mumbled. “Something about you...”
“What did he say?” Sirius asked flatly.
“He said he saw you, at Hogwarts. With someone...” Regulus willed himself not to start fidgeting again. “You were— um… kissing.”
A moment seemed to stretch into eternity before Sirius sighed and said, “you cannot tell anyone.”
“I wouldn’t,” Regulus quickly urged, glancing up at Sirius in alarm. “I won’t, I mean.” He could keep a secret, despite Sirius claiming otherwise. His brother nodded once, a jerky movement that jostled his curls. “So you… like boys?” Regulus asked, his cheeks heating up.
Sirius seemed lost in thought, stroking his arm while staring up at the ceiling. He opened his mouth, closed it, wetted his lips with the tip of his tongue, and opened it again. In the distance a church bell struck midnight. “Yeah,” he finally whispered, “yeah, I think I do.”
“Why?”
This time it was Sirius’ turn to let out a throaty laugh. He turned on his side, his breath hot on Regulus’ skin. “Have you ever kissed someone?” Sirius asked, the intensity of his stare so heavy, it was almost suffocating.
Regulus’ face was burning now. “You know I haven’t,” he mumbled, his gaze flicking between Sirius’ lips and a point past his shoulder.
The atmosphere was thick and murky. It felt like swimming through honey; it clung to him and dulled his senses, leaving a sticky residue that would linger for days and make him unable to move. Regulus’ eyes went wide and his breath hitched in his throat as Sirius crossed the distance and brushed his lips against his, a feather-light press of skin and devotion that made his head spin and stomach tingle. He didn’t have time to process anything more than the softness of Sirius’ lips as they moved against his own, his mind scrambling to keep up, before Sirius was gone and he blinked in surprise at the loss.
“Did you like that?” Sirius asked and the black of his eyes sparkled in the dim moonlight with a hint of hunger and danger.
It might have set the alarm bells off in his mind but their sound was lost completely by the heavy thrum of his heart pounding in his ears. “Yeah,” Regulus nodded, clearing his throat softly, “it was… nice.” He didn’t know whether it was his newfound bravery speaking, or the wine Grandfather Arcturus had been sneaking him all evening, but he felt something when he asked, “can we… again?”
Sirius smiled as he cupped Regulus’ face in the soft palm of his hand and dipped his head to meet him once more. Regulus closed his eyes and gave himself over to the tide coming in, the waves clawing at him, pulling him under and drowning out every sense of here and now. Sirius darted his tongue along Regulus’ lips and heat sparked in his belly as he let his brother in. Their tongues slid together in a way that was filthy, wrong, but Sirius tasted of wine and cranberries; he tasted like home and home was familiar and warm. He welcomed the flood with a wink of his heart and never came up for air.
“I missed you,” Regulus hummed when his eyes fell close at last and the world started to fade.
“Sleep now,” Sirius whispered, stroking Regulus’ cheek.
“Stay with me?”
“Always,” Sirius said and not once did Regulus question it.