Chapter Text
The courtyard is unusually quiet as the four friends walk through it. The weeks leading up to exams always brought a strange hush to the school, which is usually bursting with activity. Most days, you can hear laughter ringing through the halls, see students swimming in the lake, and professors herding students to their next class.
However, with exams happening in just a couple of weeks, the atmosphere is more subdued and tension-filled. The only students seemingly unaffected by this are Sirius Black and his friends, James Potter, Remus Lupin, and Peter Pettigrew.
For the most part, Sirius finds little need to study. He’ll touch up on certain facts here and there, but he generally finds that he's able to keep up in class and retain information the first time around, and why waste time going over stuff you already know when you can be doing literally anything else? It's cocky, he knows, but he doesn't particularly care, either.
“Have you figured out what you're doing this summer, Moony?” Sirius asks as they make their way back to their dormitory. “Will you be headed back to Yorkshire?”
Beside him, Remus shakes his head. “Likely not. Peter’s parents offered for me to stay here with them, and it’d save me from having to spend on a ticket.”
Sirius looks at him. “You know I'd be happy to pay for your ticket.”
“And you know I'd never let you,” Remus says firmly.
Sirius wants to protest, but he catches James’ eye and sees him shake his head slightly. Sirius sighs. There's no point in arguing with a Remus who’s had his mind set, and anyway, it’ll be nice to have him in the States for the summer. Sirius brightens at the thought, and he notices James do the same.
“Brilliant!” James says. “We’ll all be here for the summer holiday, then. That never happens.”
They all grin at each other, excited by the prospect of a summer running around New York. Usually, since they attend a private international boarding school in the States, Remus has to travel back home for the holiday, and Peter typically bounces between his home in upstate New York and his grandparents’ house in Britain. James and Sirius, as the only ones with a semi-permanent residence in the city, always spend the summers attached at the hip whenever they can. Which, come to think of it, isn't much different from how they spend the rest of the year, either.
“Will you be okay not seeing your dad until the winter?” Sirius asks, looking at Remus.
Remus shrugs lightly. “I’ll miss him, of course, but it’ll be fine.”
“Yeah, he’ll be too busy having an extended sleepover with me!” Peter chimes in excitedly.
“We’re literally dorm mates,” Sirius points out. “Every year is an extended sleepover.”
“I can still be excited,” Peter protests.
“It’ll be fun!” Remus agrees, but he's looking at Sirius when he says this, and Sirius feels his face flush, utterly pleased.
James, noticing the interaction, jabs Sirius in the side with his elbow. Sirius, without missing a beat, jabs him back even harder.
“Oi, that one actually hurt!”
“Good,” Sirius comments, and James tackles him onto the grass. “What the—Moony, help!” Sirius yelps. He kicks wildly at James, hoping one will land and he hears James laughing as they tumble.
Remus takes a step back. “Oh no, I'm good.”
“How long do you suppose they'll be at it?” Peter asks.
“Oh, not long,” Remus says casually.
Sirius, even in the midst of dodging James’ limbs, feels himself pause at Remus’ words. “Wait, why—”
“Boys!” a sharp voice says, cutting cleanly through the air, and Sirius and James both freeze.
“You've got to be kidding,” Sirius groans.
“How does she always just appear?” James says miserably. Sirius detangles himself from James and pushes himself to his feet, brushing his uniform off in a futile effort to make himself look presentable before turning to face none other than Professor Minerva McGonagall.
The formidable woman is leveling them with a stern look, shaking her head as she watches them try to clean themselves up. “Don't you four have studying you should be doing?” she asks.
“Of course!” James says brightly. “We were just on our way to a study session in the dormitory, in fact.”
She gives them a look of disbelief. “Right. Perhaps a lesson in decorum ought to be added to the list. In any case, I'm not here to ask about your study habits.” She turns to Sirius, mouth pressed into a thin line. “The Headmaster needs to speak with you.”
Sirius’ eyes widen in alarm, and he searches his brain, trying to think if he specifically has done anything recently to warrant a trip to the Headmaster’s office. In all honesty, their pranks lately have been relatively tame, and he's not sure what he'd be punished for where James wouldn't also be included.
“Oh?” he asks lightly.
But if he was hoping for a hint—and he definitely was—McGonagall doesn't give one.
“Quickly, Mr. Black,” Minerva urges, and Sirius looks at his friends, who look just as bewildered as he feels. “And do try to make yourself look presentable on the way.”
“I’ll meet you guys in the dormitory,” he reassures them, shooing them off.
As Sirius and McGonagall make their way back to the school, Sirius idly picks grass off of his uniform and runs his fingers through his hair. He wonders what the Headmaster wants with him. If he is in some sort of trouble, he just hopes it's the kind that won't be written home about. The last thing he needs is a fresh grievance for his mother to be angry about just as he gets home for break.
They step briskly into the Entrance Hall, and a couple lingering students eye them curiously. Some, who recognize Sirius as the culprit of many various pranks, smirk at him, thinking he's in trouble. He doesn't really know that he's not , to be fair. He grins back.
When they finally reach the Headmaster’s office, McGonagall knocks briefly before turning to Sirius. “I will leave you here, Mr. Black,” she tells him. And then, to Sirius’ alarm, her face softens just slightly. “You’re not in any trouble,” she reassures him.
That would have been nice to know right away, he thinks. But that only makes him more worried. Before he can thank her, the door swings open and Albus Dumbledore greets him with a cheerful smile.
“Mr. Black! Thank you for delivering him to us in one piece,” Albus says to McGonagall.
“'Us?’” Sirius asks, raising an eyebrow at him.
Sirius watches as Dumbledore’s face tightens ever so slightly. Most people wouldn't have even noticed it, but Sirius is not most people. The dread hits him before Dumbledore even has a chance to step aside.
Because when he does, Sirius can see his mother, Walburga Black standing behind him.
In every memory Sirius has of his mother, she is dripping with diamonds. They cling to her ears like dewdrops, they wrap around her neck delicately, catching light when she turns just so, and her fingers are adorned with jewels. It's not so loud that it's tasteless, but it is very much there , a show of power and wealth and the business she holds so dear. She places diamonds into boxes with more tenderness than she ever had placing her children into a crib.
Even now, he can spot the diamond accents on her watch and the studs in her ears as she stands in front of Dumbledore’s desk. She is, by many people’s standards, beautiful, with high cheekbones, and shrewd, dark eyes. Her features are sharp, and looking at her is a bit like staring at the sun—it hurts. Although, most interactions with her do.
Immediately, Sirius feels all his old habits settle into his bones. His spine straightens, shoulders go back, and his head tilts up with the perfect measure of confidence and deference that was beaten into him from the time he could walk. He grits his teeth against the urge to turn on his heel and walk right back out.
“Mother,” he greets instead, dipping his head slightly. She looks at him disdainfully.
“Sirius,” she says flatly. “Pack your belongings. You must return home at once.”
Sirius’ reaction to this is full-body. It coils with tension, and his hands twitch at his sides with the urge to clench them. His immediate reaction is to say, Absolutely not! He was supposed to have a couple weeks left before returning home, and he had planned to savor those weeks with his friends. Not to mention he still has his exams to complete. His second reaction is, Oh. Something’s happened to Regulus.
His mother watches impassively as the realization dawns on him. For a second, Sirius forgets all of his hesitations about going home.
“What's happened?” Sirius asks tightly.
Walburga gives him a steady look. “Your brother’s kidneys are beginning to fail,” she says calmly, as if discussing the weather or her schedule for the day. Not her youngest son’s body failing him. “We've discussed options for treatment and have determined that a kidney transplant will likely be his only option,” she continues, giving Sirius a pointed look.
Sirius is not unfamiliar with bad news. His whole life has been peppered with it, usually in relation to Regulus. Good news where cancer is involved is rare. Regulus, who was diagnosed with cancer—acute promyelocytic leukemia, to be precise—when he was only three and Sirius was four, has wrestled with it on and off for years.
And Sirius, who, by some stroke of luck—or terrible misfortune, however you want to look at it—just happens to be a perfect donor match for Regulus, and has battled alongside him. Over the years, Sirius has given Regulus so much of him, from lymphocytes to granulocytes to stem cells. At this point, the same blood runs through both of their bodies.
He supposes now that a kidney is just the next step. Because that's what this is all about, he knows. Walburga Black would not be here unless she needed something from Sirius. And Sirius, who so rarely often has anything she wants, is tempted to spit in her face. He raises an eyebrow at her.
“You need to take a kidney?” Sirius asks in disbelief.
“Your brother needs a kidney,” she says sharply.
“Right, I get that. But you're not even going to, like, ask?” Sirius says incredulously. It's not that he's surprised. No one’s ever asked before whether he wanted to donate his body for the cause, and he honestly always did. He'd do anything for his little brother. But no one’s ever asked him to just give up a solid organ before.
She raises a thin eyebrow at him. “I’m not asking,” she says coldly. “It is your duty.”
Sirius feels a flare of anger at this. Of course he wants his brother to be okay. That's not even a question. But the expectation rankles him a bit, and he feels himself wanting to dig his heels in. Because for the past three years since Regulus has been in remission, Sirius has had a life that he's grown attached to here at school, and the thought of being yanked away from it suddenly for a procedure he knows very little about makes him feel… resentful. He's reminded, suddenly, of the leash that is always on him. It was so easy to forget, this far from home.
Sirius looks over to Dumbledore, who is watching them both with mild interest. Sirius had honestly forgotten the man was there. Their eyes meet, and Sirius thinks he sees a flash of pity in them. It pisses him off even more.
“Right,” Sirius says stiffly. “And my exams?”
“We’ll arrange to have you take them at home,” Dumbledore tells him.
“Splendid,” Sirius practically spits. He turns to his mother. “I’ll need time to get my stuff together.”
“You have thirty minutes,” his mother says dismissively. “Your driver is already waiting in front of your dormitory.”
Sirius glares at her before turning on his heel and leaving without another word to either her or Dumbledore. He’s barely aware of anyone around him as he walks back to his dorm, heart sinking further and further into his heels as he goes. How is he supposed to explain this to his friends? Will he even be coming back to school next year?
He feels horribly guilty for thinking it, but he just… doesn't want to go home. He knows it's worse for Regulus, who can't escape it, who has no choice but to endure, but Sirius would love to whisk them away from their current lives and live a different one altogether.
He drags his feet up the stairs to his dormitory and can hear his friends laughing inside. His heart beats painfully in his chest as he pushes the door open. Immediately, his friends turn to face him.
“What'd old Dumbledore want?” James asks immediately. “Was it about us putting a ton of food coloring in the lake?”
Sirius shakes his head, and he feels Remus studying him.
“What's wrong?” Remus asks quietly, ever the perceptive one.
“My mother is here,” Sirius tells them, and their eyes all widen almost comically at that. “She’s pulling me out of school.”
James leaps up in an instant. “What the fuck!”
“Can she even do that?” Peter asks.
“‘Course she can, he's a minor,” James says angrily, but the anger’s not directed at Peter. “Why would she do that?”
Sirius heaves a sigh. “It's Regulus,” he tells them. “He’s, um, he's not doing well. Said his kidneys are starting to fail.”
James sucks in a breath. “Oh, shit, Padfoot. I'm so sorry.”
“Can they do anything?” Peter asks anxiously.
Sirius laughs humorlessly. “They need to do a kidney transplant.”
Remus and James catch on immediately. When Sirius first met them, he refrained from mentioning his brother. Not because he's particularly ashamed or embarrassed of him, but because here, away from home, he could almost pretend his life’s purpose isn't to provide body parts for his brother. To his mother, Sirius is nothing more than a way to keep her precious heir alive.
“They want one of your kidneys,” Remus realizes. Sirius winces and nods.
“Sirius—” James starts, but Sirius cuts him off.
“It is what it is,” he says hollowly, grabbing his bag and starting to stuff it with clothes. “Besides, I don't want Regulus to fucking die.”
“Right,” James agrees. “But can they not get a kidney from someone else?”
“No,” Sirius says shortly. “Not only does finding a donor match take a lot of time he might not have—if one even comes about at all—but using a stranger’s kidney would be much more dangerous for Regulus. I'm a perfect allogeneic match. I'm his best bet.”
“Fucking Christ, mate,” James swears, watching Sirius tear posters from the wall and shove them into the bin carelessly. Peter just sits on his bed and watches, clearly unsure of what to say.
“They can't make you donate a kidney,” Remus says. “No surgeon in their right mind is going to take a kidney from an unwilling donor.”
“Oh yeah?” Sirius challenges. “Mother has enough money to end homelessness in England. She can easily just pay off the right surgeon. Like I said: it is what it is. I have less than ten minutes before I have to be outside. The driver is already here.”
The silence remaining in the room is heavy as Sirius violently packs his belongings. He didn't bring much to begin with. The dorms are cramped spaces with barely enough room for the four of them and all their stuff, so he's kept it minimal.
Once he’s cleared out all his stuff, he turns to his friends.
“We can still meet up this summer, I'm sure,” he tells them, and they all look relieved. “Besides, how bad can getting a kidney cut out of you really be?” he grins.
“Reckon it's a walk in the park, really,” James says.
“Yeah, no worse than giving blood, I'm sure,” Peter chimes in.
“Sirius,” Remus levels him with a stern look. “I know… I know a lot’s at stake here. But if you really don't want to, we can figure something out.”
As much as Sirius appreciates the words, he's long since gotten used to his reality. He offers a crooked smile. “Aw, Moony! You care about me?”
“Where'd you get that idea?” Remus says mildly.
Sirius clutches his heart dramatically. “Unloved! Prongs, what say you? Do you love me?”
James grins grabs Sirius’ face, pressing his lips to Sirius’ cheek. “Of course, my darling!”
Sirius turns around and sticks his tongue out at Remus, who grabs the nearest pillow and throws it at them.
“Get a room!” he hollers.
“Ah, well, you see… This isn't my room anymore,” Sirius jokes blandly. He turns to James. “We can reschedule this, surely?”
“Anything for you, love,” James says with a laugh, before his smile fades into a more grim expression. “You still have my family’s number, right?”
Sirius nods. “Yeah. I’ll call when I can and keep you updated.”
“Good. And remember, my dad’s a lawyer. He can always help if you need something,” James says pointedly, and Sirius sighs. If only it were that simple. “Give Regulus my best.”
“Thanks, mate. I really appreciate it. All of you. But we’ll be fine,” he reassures them. “I’ll see you in a few weeks hopefully. Don't do better than me on exams.”
“I never do,” Peter jokes.
“I definitely will,” Remus says with a smirk.
“Exams? What exams?” James asks.
Despite everything, Sirius smiles. Genuinely. God, he loves his friends. They've been so good to him. He’s already missing this.
Sirius gives them one last wave, and heads out the door.
In many ancient texts, the star Sirius was portrayed as the bringer of summer heatwaves. From the beginning of July to August, Sirius would rise with the sun, and it was thought that the combined power of Sirius and the Sun is what caused such extreme summer heat. These were known as the “dog days” of summer.
As a kid, Sirius has always thrived in the heat of summer. Where Regulus preferred to stay indoors, enjoying air conditioning and books, Sirius liked to be out in the sun, splashing in a pool or playing football or running around London, flying under his parents’ radar.
When they moved to the States for access to a more experimental treatment for Regulus, Sirius was thrilled. It was that much more of the world for him to discover. Now, on the cusp of adulthood, Sirius still spends his “dog days” trying to avoid his mother and galavanting around the city—but now it’s New York City instead of London.
He wonders if he’ll get the chance to do that this summer. He pictures himself stuck in a hospital bed post-op and cringes at the thought of being unable to do as he pleases. And then he remembers that this is the life Regulus is forced to live, and he feels guilty for feeling this way at all.
Regulus doesn't have a choice in this at all.
Sirius tries to tell himself he doesn't either, but he can't seem to quiet the voice telling him that he does have a choice. He just doesn't know how to make it.
Returning home is an unpleasant ordeal after spending the last several months away at school. He enjoyed the secluded campus and his warm, comfortable dorm, constantly surrounded by his closest friends.
Sirius murmurs his thanks to the driver as he gets out of the car, and he grabs his bags and turns to face the tall building with a sigh. It's huge and extravagant, as everything Walburga Black owns is, but it is also largely sterile and impersonal. He nods a quick greeting at the doorman and again at security, who recognizes Sirius easily, and then loads himself onto the elevator and thanks whatever god there is for the fact that he did not arrive at the same time as his mother.
He wonders where Regulus is. They have a makeshift hospital room, but it's not particularly extensive—only good for minor complications and ailments, and Regulus doesn't like to spend much time there if he can help it. He enjoys the comfort of his own room, the only space he's been allowed to truly make his own. Sirius feels the same way.
The elevator halts, and Sirius quickly makes his way down the hall to his room and steps inside. He flicks the light on and finds his room exactly how he left it: bed unmade out of spite, posters covering his walls, and a pile of laundry he never got around to doing before he left for school balanced on the chair at his desk. His mum would have heart failure if she saw it, but he knew she wouldn't care enough to bother looking. As long as the public can't see the mess, she can't be bothered to fight about it.
Without wasting time on lingering, Sirius drops his bags right in the doorway and exits his room, quickly making his way two doors down and knocking gingerly on the closed door adorned with a sign reading ‘Regulus Arcturus Black.’
For a moment, nothing happens, and Sirius wonders if he's down in the makeshift hospital room after all. Or worse, he could be at the actual hospital. He probably should have asked someone.
Before he can sink into a proper spiral, though, the door swings open to reveal his little brother, and Sirius feels himself falter.
His brother looks… worn. There are deep circles under his eyes, his face is puffy, and he's lost a lot of weight from the last time Sirius saw him. Regulus sees Sirius studying him and smiles wryly.
“That bad, huh?” Regulus says by way of greeting.
Sirius grimaces. “Not your most shining moment, no.”
Regulus holds up his hands, which are swollen with fluid. “Courtesy of the kidney disease.”
“Lazy fucking organs,” Sirius comments as Regulus steps back to let him in. “Heard you need one of mine.”
Regulus’ face twists with an emotion Sirius can't quite pin.
“What?” Sirius prompts.
Regulus shakes his head. “Mother is… not happy.”
“Is she ever?” Sirius huffs as he plops onto an armchair. Regulus does the same across from him, though much more gracefully.
“Well, no, but I think she thought since I've been in remission for a while, I might just be better.”
“Do they know why your kidneys are failing now?” Sirius asks.
Regulus shrugs. “They've been struggling for a long time now. It's a combination of things: genetic abnormalities, damage from previous treatments, etc. It’s just finally hit a tipping point. I've started dialysis three times a week so a machine can do the work my kidneys can't, but it’s not a permanent solution. They're going to give out eventually.”
Sirius sucks in a breath. Hearing the words from Regulus, who is right in front of him and looking so visibly ill, is more of a wakeup call than anything.
“Reg—” he starts, but his brother cuts him off.
“We’ll just see what happens,” Regulus says firmly, and Sirius recognizes that he doesn't want to talk about it anymore. “Tell me about school. I’m sorry you had to come home early on account of me.”
Sirius hates himself for the relief that floods through him at the subject change. After three years of relative peace and only minor health scares, Sirius isn't sure how to process that his brother's health is declining once again. He’s not sure he’s ready to face what this means for his brother’s future, or his own. So he doesn't.
“It’s been good,” Sirius tells him. Regulus pins him with a knowing look. “More than good,” Sirius admits. “I love it. My dorm mates—you've heard me talk about them before—James, Remus, and Peter are still my best mates. Me and James have been competing for top spot in our Astronomy class and Remus has the top spot in Literature, easy. I think James has finally given up on his mission to bag Lily Evans, but that's only because there are rumors going around about her and Mary Macdonald. James gives you his best, by the way.”
The corners of Regulus’ mouth tilt up into a small smile as Sirius rambles. Sirius used to feel bad about talking of his adventures at school while Regulus is stuck here. And he does still feel a little bad, but Regulus seemed to almost live vicariously through him and enjoy rolling his eyes at the antics Sirius and his friends got up to.
Sometimes, Sirius could see Regulus close his eyes, and he wondered if Regulus was picturing running across a green campus, weaving in and out of trees, and hurtling into the nearby lake. If Sirius could whisk Regulus away to school, he would.
But they both know, illness or not, Regulus would never be allowed far from home.
“I appreciate it,” Regulus says. “I assume you landed yourselves in detention plenty?”
“Only when we got caught,” Sirius says proudly. “Which, thanks to Moony’s quick thinking, wasn't that often.”
“And Moony is…”
“Remus,” Sirius confirms.
“Thought so. From what you've told me, he always seemed like the sensible one,” Regulus tells him.
“Someone has to be,” Sirius says fondly. Regulus gives him a look of consideration. “What?”
“Nothing,” Regulus says mildly, and Sirius knows there it's definitely something but he's not sure he wants to hear it.
“What about you? Do you still see your tutors?” Sirius asks.
Regulus huffs out a laugh. “You think Mother would let me stop my education for something as small as kidney failure?”
Sirius wrinkles his nose. “Right.”
“It's fine, though. My friends—you know Pandora, Evan, and Barty, right?—come over to study with me often since we all share the same tutors.”
Regulus winces and rubs his back, and Sirius’ eyes narrow. “Your kidneys?” Regulus nods and grimaces. “Maybe you should move to the bed.”
“It won't help,” Regulus says matter-of-factly, but he stands up nonetheless and makes his way over to the bed. Exhaustion is visible in the lines of his body, but Sirius can't bring himself to leave now that he's got his brother with him. Without waiting for an invitation, Sirius climbs onto the bed and settles next to his brother, feeling uncharacteristically small.
He’s reminded, suddenly, of being young and hearing his bedroom door open, followed by the sound of soft footsteps and a dip in his bed as his little brother snuck into his room and settled next to him after a bad dream. They'd both learned the hard way what seeking comfort from their parents would earn them, so they took comfort in each other instead. Sirius never had it in him to deny his little brother anything he wanted.
Now, it feels like a strange reversal of roles. Sirius feels like the younger one, seeking reassurance from Regulus that he's here, here's alive, and things are going to be okay.
For a long moment, neither of them say anything. Sirius stares up at the glow-in-the-dark stars glued to the ceiling, and thinks about how he woke up this morning under a different one. He misses his friends already.
Next to him, Regulus is silent, but the air is buzzing with tension. Sirius waits for him to speak.
“Tomorrow,” Regulus says abruptly.
“What?”
“We can talk about everything tomorrow,” Regulus says.
Part of Sirius wants to protest. He wants to hear his brother’s thoughts now, he wants a problem he can solve immediately. But maybe, in the soft light of the morning, things will seem simpler. And next to him, Regulus looks so tired that Sirius can’t bring himself not to give Regulus anything he wants.
So if he wants to push everything off and enjoy a quiet night with his brother, Sirius won’t deny him that. Sirius lets out a breath and pulls Regulus’ head closer, carding his hand through his brother’s hair in just the way Regulus likes. He settles in and wills his mind to stop racing.
“Tomorrow,” he agrees.