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Anger and discomfort. That's what Sirius felt when his father pushed a week-old baby into his arms and said, "Hold him until your mother gets back."
The new baby, his new brother, sixteen years younger than him, Regulus, whimpers pathetically. He tries to rearrange his arms so the baby won't start screaming, but does he know anything about babies? He's never really been around one before. This is maybe the second time he's held one, and he would've been happier if it had stayed at one.
"Why can't you bloody hold him?" Sirius asks as Orion backs away. "He's your stupid son."
"As are you," Orion replies dryly, a familiar angry glint in his eye. "So do as I say and hold your sodding brother while I get a drink." He leaves, long strides taking him from the room far faster than Sirius can chase after him. He doesn't like the fact that he has a sibling now or that he's supposed to wait here until Walburga gets in-- whenever that's supposed to be-- but he doesn't want to bash the baby's head into the door, so he has to stop following their father and wait in the room as requested.
He sighs, gives the door an impotent kick, then gingerly makes his way to a chair. It's easier to hold a baby while sitting, right? He's heard that somewhere. Maybe, if he's lucky, Regulus will stay asleep. Or is he awake and just not crying? It's hard to tell which when his face is so scrunched up. Sirius isn't sure. As long as he's quiet though, he doesn't care.
He knows what a new sibling means. His parents didn't say it in as many words, but they didn't need to; he knows that he's a disappointment to them. He's said a hundred times (to James), that if they could replace him, they would. And now they have.
His parents don't like each other. They don't have sex for fun. They purposefully conceived Regulus so that, once Sirius is gone, they'll have a new heir. Sirius knows that he won't be here much longer. It's a toss up whether he runs or they throw him out. He thinks he's going to run; he'll be able to pack all of his things that way.
He glances down at the (thankfully) still quiet baby in his arms and hates him, just a little bit. Right now, he's fine. He's a baby. He doesn't have personality, he's trying to figure out going to sleep and eating when he's hungry. But when he grows up? Sirius turned out alright, in spite of their parents. Regulus probably won't turn out the same. Andromeda noted to him once, in the corner of one of their family gatherings, "It's fifty-fifty if one of us isn't utter shite. It's like, you and I turned out good, so Bellatrix and Narcissa have to be piss." Sirius laughed, knowing the truth in her words; Uncle Alphard, present but apart from the others like they were, was a clear sign. They could turn out good, but it wasn't a guarantee.
If Sirius is fine, then what does that mean for the future of this newborn baby? He'll grow up under Walburga and Orion's watchful eyes and the 'benefit' of hindsight that raising Sirius will have given them.
Sirius will grow to hate him. That stir of anger, to that future, to their parents, is still there. "Sorry, mate," he whispers. Angry or not, he pities him.
There's a knock on the door, and James answers. "Hullo. Erm, can I help you?"
"I'm a solicitor, my name is Joe Byrne." He holds a business card out. It's a deep green, almost black but its colour is visible from the sunlight shining on the doorstep. "I'm here to speak to Sirius Potter."
James takes the card and glances down at it. The sigil stamped to the background and the skate of magic underlining his information like an errant drop of water mean he's old money-- which means he's likely connected to the Black family. "I don't know what business you could have with him."
"I presume you're his husband, James Potter?"
"That's correct."
"Mr. Potter, are you aware that his mother recently passed?"
"Yes-" it was in The Prophet "-but she disowned him. I know children are usually in the will even if they're estranged, but this isn't a usual situation."
Mr. Byrne doesn't appear bothered by this. "The will has been read. What Walburga Black may or may not have done to disown your husband in a social manner wasn't reflected legally, so I need to speak with him."
James knows he's being overprotective by thinking anyone connected with the Black's-- even professionally-- is bad for Sirius. So he swallows it down, tucks the card in his pocket, and says, "Okay. Please, come in. Would you like a cup of tea?"
"Please. Thank you."
James waves his wand to get things started in the kitchen and leads Mr. Byrne to an armchair. They're both quiet as he sits. Another wave of his wand brings the teapot out, the tray and cups trailing behind it. He can't remember if it's polite to pour for him or not; it's been so long since he tried to be proper, and that was occasionally, not all the time. Bloody hell, he shouldn't care about this, and he doesn't, really, but he's nervous. Sirius's parents are an old scar, but they are a scar. What's the point in putting pressure on that scar again? For a single galleon that his mother left, just to spite him? "Go ahead," he says, motioning to the tea service, "and I'll go get Sirius."
Mr. Byrne thanks him, so even if it was a mistake, it's a small one.
James isn't looking forward to this. To any part of this. He didn't even want to let the solicitor in, but now he has to tell Sirius that he's here, and he likes that less. He heads to the backyard, where they were soaking in the sun for a few hours while Harry's at the Longbottom's.
Sirius glances over when he walks out, then frowns. "You alright?"
"There's a solicitor here for you. From Walburga."
"I don't imagine we'd have anything to discuss."
"I said the same to him, but he claims you're in the will." James holds out a hand to him and tries to smile. "Best to get it over with."
Sirius sighs but agrees, taking his hand and joining him inside.
Mr. Byrne introduces himself to Sirius before opening his briefcase and removing a sizeable folder. "I apologize for coming to your home to discuss this, but my letters didn't receive any response and certain matters need to be taken care of quickly."
"We received quite a bit of post after her death," James says by way of apology. None of the letters were welcome; they'd burned the lot of it without sifting through to check senders.
"I understand," he replies, accepting. Then he looks to Sirius. "In summary, you are now the Head of the Black family. There's quite a bit of details to get through in relation to that, but we can schedule an appointment for that if you prefer. The most urgent matter is that of your younger brother, one Regulus Black. Since your mother's death, he's been staying with a member of S.U.B.S., but the hope is to transfer him into your custody as quickly as possible. There are a few forms I need your signature on, and then you'll be his legal guardians." Mr. Byrne is very efficient about the whole matter. As he's speaking, he retrieves a quill and inkwell from his briefcase. By the time he's done, the inkwell is unstoppered, and the corresponding forms are facing Sirius and James.
Two minutes ago, they had a three year old and struggled with that. Now they're being told they have to raise another kid, one who's older and they've never met.
Sod everything.
Sirius and James have a certain idea what Regulus will be like. Sirius was raised in that house, he knows what life was like before he went to Hogwarts, and Regulus is eight. He was snooty and cold and unused to anything like James and Sirius as they are now; Regulus will be the same, possibly worse.
The first glimpse they get of Regulus makes them rethink that assumption.
The first conversation they try to have with him crushes that assumption beneath a harsh hammer and grinds it up afterwards. At first, Regulus is too loud, too aggressive. Then, he's quiet, almost not daring to breathe, and he shrinks away like he expects pain. When none comes, he flees to the loo with a murmured excuse.
"That's not normal," Sirius whispers to James. They need to talk about it, but he doesn't want Regulus to overhear. And, given what just happened, he doesn't want to go too far from him.
"Definitely not," James whispers back. "D'you think they hurt him?"
"That's what it looked like, but it doesn't make any sense. They wanted to make him the perfect son to replace me." He shakes his head. "This doesn't follow."
"Maybe he's skittish from losing his parents and living with strangers," James says, but he doesn't sound like he believes it.
Sirius doesn't believe it either, but he says, "Yeah. Maybe."
"Are you going to lock me in the basement?" Regulus asks one day over lunch.
Sirius wishes Harry weren't here for this, and James wishes that there was a warning before someone asked something so horrible like that.
"There's no basement," Harry informs him. "Uncle Peter's house has a basement, but he says I can't go in." He's too young to understand the horrible implications in Regulus’s question. To him, it's a question on the same level as 'can I go in Dad's potion lab' or 'can we have dinner early today'.
James tries to smile. "Right. Like Harry said, no basement. I don't know why we'd do something like that to you anyways."
"The full moon is tomorrow night."
His stomach sinks, because that didn't sound like a different topic, and he doesn't want to ask, but he has to. Sirius braces himself and asks, "Why is that important?"
"They put me in the basement for my transformations."
He blinks. "Transformations?"
"When I become a wolf." Regulus said it as if this was information they already knew.
Sirius and James both force themselves not to react; there's no point in making him think it's a bad reaction. "Right. You don't have to do that anymore, we have something else worked out." They'll have to figure it out tonight. It'll be easy, since they can both transform and keep him company, but finding a suitable location will be a bit of a challenge-- and finding someone to mind Harry while they were both gone, helping Regulus, won't be easy because of the short notice.
"I should've taken Regulus with me when I ran away from my parents," Sirius says, staring up at the ceiling and hating himself for something eight years past. From the corner of his eye, he can see James pause.
"You're not blaming yourself, are you?"
He says nothing.
James sighs, a quiet, sad thing, and pads over to the bed. He sits and places a hand on Sirius's shoulder. "We were sixteen. We couldn't have raised a kid."
"We would've figured it out," Sirius says stubbornly. He's convinced that it's true. They had Harry a little earlier than was wise, but they had each other, so they were able to get through it. It would've been the same with Regulus; they would've been scared and stressed with juggling everything, but they would've managed it.
James lays down. He throws one leg over Sirius's and curves his arm to smush between them so he can hold his hand. He should probably look up at the ceiling with him, but instead he stares at Sirius. His jaw is set, eyes tight, and he's glaring at the red paint like it's done him wrong. "I know you feel bad for him. I do too, but there's nothing we could have done-"
"We could've helped," Sirius cuts in, voice hard.
Mm. He isn't going to make this easy, is he? James keeps himself from sighing again, knowing it'll only make Sirius more defensive. "Okay. Humour me. You're sixteen, and you show up at my house with a baby in your arms. My parents let you and Regulus both live there. We-"
"I know that it wouldn't have been easy with Hogwarts, but-"
James is the one to cut him off this time. "I wasn't talking about Hogwarts, I was talking about Walburga and Orion. If you'd brought him with you, that would be kidnapping. Do you really think they'd let that slide? The law would've been on their side, and they would've wanted him back."
"They treated him like rubbish!" Sirius says, turning his head to glare at James instead of the ceiling. "He's a werewolf; they wouldn't have raised a finger."
"He wasn't a werewolf back then."
A retort is on the tip of his tongue, but he hesitates when that penetrates his fog of guilt and self-recrimination. James is right; Regulus wasn't a werewolf. He doesn't know when he was bitten, but it had to be after he left. "I still think I should've been able to do something," he eventually says, feeling helpless and hating it.
"You didn't know. And it doesn't seem like anyone else knows; they kept it locked down. All we can do is focus on how much better parents we're going to be to him," James says with a grin.
Sirius snickers. "Yeah. Doesn't sound like it'll be hard."
"We'll blow them out of the water."
Harry thinks it's fun to have Regulus around. Where James and Sirius are sometimes too busy to play with him exactly the way he wants, Regulus is always free-- and, importantly, always willing. Regulus and Harry both are enjoying the novelty of living with someone close to them in age. Hell, Regulus is enjoying playing. So much of it, he seems to be experiencing for the first time (like he's never had a playmate), but sometimes he does act the five years older than Harry that he is, knowing what Harry wants before he says a word.
It's pretty damn cute no matter which way he's acting. He talks more now, which is a marked improvement on when he first moved in. He doesn't fully trust Sirius and James yet, but they've got plenty of time to build off that, and he does trust them a little. He doesn't expect for them to berate him over nothing; he doesn't expect for them to lock him away on full moons or when he gets 'too annoying'. James gets frustrated with the slow pace sometimes, hating that Sirius has to remind him that baby steps are the only way they'll make progress. Raising Harry is, by comparison, easy. He's known them his whole life, never had reason to doubt that they'll be there for him or keep him safe. Dealing with raising both of them at the same time, with these differing viewpoints, isn't easy, but they're surviving.
Regulus and Harry wore themselves out playing. Sirius, as Padfoot, joined the fun, and he's feeling lethargic as they head inside. When he curls up to take a nap, Harry joins him automatically, pillowing his head on thick fur. When Regulus sees the way Sirius doesn't shake him off, he joins them, arm over Harry and head resting on Padfoot's gently moving chest.
James comes home, takes a photograph before any of them can wake, then tiptoes around the house, wanting them to have as much peace as they can. It's not an easy family, not one he ever thought they'd have, but it's good. Regulus fits in, taking on the role of Harry's brother, with Sirius more like a father.