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Sirius could barely breathe. He and his mother had never and would never see eye to eye, he knew that, but he didn’t expect this. They fought, screamed, and slammed doors. She would drag him to his room, even lock him in there, but he was her son. At the very least, he was her heir. Yet here he was on the floor, and he could barely. Fucking. Breathe.
This fight had gone farther than any before. The tension had been building all summer. Walburga and Orion were pushing him to start taking responsibility for his duties to the family. He was avoiding it in a familiar fashion, but then she started preaching about the new ‘Lord Voldemort’ (what a stupid name) and how he was going to bring tradition back to wizarding culture and erase dirtied blood from the picture. It got brought up constantly until he snapped about the murder he was.
“He’s disgusting!”
“He understands the truth of what we are up against. He is willing to speak against letting Mudbloods parade around–”
“Stop saying that! What’s so different? Remus is one of the smartest in our year!”
His mother's face hardened. He was able to escape any talk of his half-blood friend. Walburga on her part, ignored it in favor of thinking he would outgrow it, but defense with a first name was hard to overlook. Regulus, the calmer and more rationale of the two brothers, pushed his lips into a line, sighing out his nose. Careful Sirius.
“Do not act so fond of the boy.”
“Well! I am! He and James are my friends!”
“You are no such thing!”
“I do-”
“DO NOT SHOW SUCH DISRESPECT TO YOUR MOTHER, SIRIUS ORION.”
The woman stood in her outrage. Soon, Orion was entering the sitting room. Regulus shrunk in on himself, still silent; observing.
“What is the meaning of this?”
And so the cycle continued. Dispute with no end. He couldn’t get them to change their minds, and they couldn’t make him what they wanted. It was his breaking point. He should have learned by now what comes of his rash words. The first time led to a friend almost expelled and outcasted, and now he damned himself to the grim.
He doesn’t even really remember what he said, but it was personal. Stabbing at their way of life, their parenting, their personalities. And then the curse was being thrown. It hit him square in the chest, and he stumbled back. Regulus shot up, gaping at the scene. For once the elegant stone faced boy lost his composer, but he did not move closer. For half a second, he felt nothing, then the magic settled.
Pain filled his chest, and the air was knocked out of him. He fell to his hands and knees, gasping desperately. He could barely focus on the carpet below his hands. He couldn’t even figure out who had sent the curse. Most likely his father. His arms gave out, and he was laying on the carpet. He could only take in small amounts of air. It seemed to stretch out forever, but it ended suddenly. Sirius sucked in a desperate breath, started to choke. It was Walburga’s voice
“This is a fraction of the way they would make you feel. You should be grateful that you were born into such greatness, with power in your blood.”
You’re wrong, He thought. They wouldn’t bring me a fraction of this pain.
His father stepped forward and bent down, leaning over him. “You have spent most of your years actively trying to disgrace our name. You have done nothing but make fools of us, and now such blatant disrespect towards your mother? Hysterically shouting about the ideas that your filthy so-called friends have filled you with. No more Sirius. My son, my heir, will not act in such a way.”
Both of his parents said he would be fine in a moment, and he was being dramatic, and after a small undeserving pat of comfort from his mother they both left. He did not move from the floor, simply closed his eyes. He thought slowly about his breathing, it's all he could do. In, out, in, out. He heard a small amount of shuffling and opened his eyes. It was Regulus that was next to him now.
“Sirius!” he hissed, “Why can’t you keep your mouth shut? You know their minds will never change.”
“I can’t live in this house unless they do. I can’t be the Heir of Black and not try.”
“Then don’t!” They both paused and looked at the stairs. Regulus shouldn’t try to help him, couldn’t really.
“What?”
Regulus huffed indignantly. “Leave Sirius! James told you he would keep you with him in a heart beat.” He said it with anger, but Sirius could see the sincerity.
“He didn’t mean it like this.”
“Didn’t he? And if not, from what I’ve heard of James Potter, he would take you in any way.” Now he was the one choking up. Sirius searched through the layers of fear in his eyes. Fear from almost losing his brother, at telling him to leave him.
Sirius looked away from his little brother to the ceiling. The ceiling he always hated, surrounded by the walls he always hated. He spent his entire life here and when he was small it was all too far away to make him unhappy, but he knew now that it wasn’t right. How hard they pushed him for perfection, being punished for the smallest of things, the screaming and fear. He never saw anyone but family for years, and when he got old enough to question it, he thought he was the weird one. Maybe he just wasn’t good enough to be a Black. Getting into Gryffindor changed that. He saw how a child's life should be like, how his life should be like.
Regulus was right. He couldn’t change anything and couldn’t keep doing this. Maybe Andromeda had the right idea, cutting all contact with the family. Maybe he did love his parents at some point, but he truly thinks it's gone now. And who could purposefully cut the breathing of someone they loved? Well, maybe that’s just what his parents thought was normal, along with the other long list of fucked up things their family taught for years and years. Generation after generation of Toujours Pur and beating everyone into submission.
“Sirius.” He returned his gaze to his brother. “You have to leave.”
He knew he was right now. He had to get out of that house. Which meant Regulus had to as well.
“Alright. If you come with me.”
Regulus leaned away from him. “What?”
“We can both get out of here, Reg! Grab the most important things from your room and we’ll floo there. James told me about one close to his house.”
“Sirius, I can’t,” he whispered. He looked far away.
“Why not?”
“Sirius, you have to leave, but I’ll be okay here. Besides, James and I have never even talked! I couldn’t ask that of him.”
“I could.”
“Sirius!”
“I’m not leaving without you. If you decide to stay, then you are keeping us both here.”
They were both on their feet at this point, and they stared at each other in the eeire stillness. Regulus breathed slowly before matching Sirius gaze with the same silvery blue eyes.
“Alright.”
He looked completely sure of his answer, but Sirius couldn’t understand why he was looking at him with a strange sort of pity.
Sirius was shaking with adrenalin. He felt like he was watching himself pack instead of actually doing it. His school things, pictures from Mary’s muggle camera, one of Moony’s jumpers. What would they think when he got there? His records, the books that were gifted to him, his rings. What would they think of Regulus when they got there? His notebook from when he was a kid, a necklace from Lily, a few pieces of his favorite clothes. I don't matter really, Regulus is the only reason he is being brave enough to get out. That was enough, right? His boots, leather jacket, and wand. He would never let Regulus go. He was his Baby brother.
When he opened his door, Regulus was already in the hall with a bag and terribly pale even for him. He was clutching the strap of his bag and his jaw was clamped, but he looked resolute.
“Hey, it’s going to be fine. Come on.”
They slid through the house like shadows, knowing where all the creaks were. They made it to the fireplace, and soon they were on the street. The walk was long, but the summer night was warms, and they were almost there a little after midnight.
“Sirius, wait.”
“We’re almost there, Reggie.”
“Stop.” Sirius turned around, brow knitted together.
“Never go back.”
“Regulus, what? Why would I-”
“Listen! Never go back, never let them get to you. You are loved by everyone you have met, I can tell, but our family… They sunk their claws deep, so don’t be surprised when you start bleeding.”
Sirius wasn’t sure if he understood what he meant, but he just whispered, “Alright,” and they kept moving. Years later, when the wounded was closer to infected and felt like it was killing him, he heard the whisper of those words.
He sort of felt bad for banging on the door in the middle of the night, but he wasn’t going to just waltz in and something was wrong. His lungs were burning, and he was starting to struggle to breathe again. Regulus couldn’t think of anything to reverse it, and he started to panic. The door swung open and there was James Potter, shining like the sun.
“Pads? What the hell-” Sirius gasped for a breath, leaning against the front door, and James eyes shot open, all tiredness gone. “Hey! Sirius? Are you alright, what’s happening?” He grabbed Sirius arm and dragged him inside towards the sitting area.
“Mom!”
It all went blurry after that. He saw bits of people running downstairs, James going back and forth, and flashes of Regulus’ black hair and small frame, clam in the chaos. All of this through tear choked eyes, fading in and out. Then Effie was in front of him, undoing the curse. After it was over, he just asked to sleep. In the end, he only went in and out for a little while before sitting up on the couch. He went through the events in his head and-
“Regulus?”
“What?”
He jumped, he hadn’t noticed James in the corner of the room. “Where is-”
Oh. Oh no, no, no.
“Where is what mate?” James eyebrow were drawn in concern.
“Sorry– nothing it was- a dream is all.”
Yes, that was all, a dream. He did not call out for his brother in front of James. No, not his brother. He didn’t have a brother. Regulus didn’t exist. How could he get so inside his own head that he slipped up in front of James? He wasn’t real, he wasn’t. But that doesn’t mean he meant nothing. He felt like the only thing that was real to him at times. He knew the difference, but he got lonely as a child and needed somebody, anybody, to think of him as great, to look at him with wonder instead of tiredness.
Then an image of a boy turned into an imaginary friend, then into a brother. Soon he had a middle name and birthdate and his own relationship with their, wait no, his parents. He was a Slytherin and they fell out. That’s why they didn’t talk at school. He cared about the Slytherin's that rejected Sirius. It had nothing to do with the fact Sirius couldn’t imagine a world where Regulus was real, but he wouldn’t share him with his new friends. He didn’t need an excuse to stop thinking about Regulus, that's just what happened. But it wasn’t. None of it happened
Reg had friends in this fantasy, real people that never knew of his existence. Slytherins that Sirius thought would have liked him. They fought and talked and loved each other. Regulus could give him sense when he didn’t have any. He gave him the courage to leave. But that didn’t stop James from looking at him weird from across the room. He went years without anyone knowing of his insanity. He never slipped up, but now he had to face the brother that never existed. Regulus had to die with that house.
Suddenly he was angry. Angry that he was forced to create him, and angry he had to leave him behind. He was furious at Regulus that he wasn’t here with him, that he couldn’t be the brother he wanted him to be. How could he stay in that house that would kill him? He chose that, though. That’s what happened. Regulus wouldn’t leave, and it will end up killing him. He never wanted to talk to him or about him again.
“Sirius?” He flinched at the noise. When had James gotten there? He was knelt in front of him as if talking to a wounded animal. Maybe that’s what he was, all he’ll ever be. A feral dog.
“Let’s go to the kitchen. You should eat.”
Years went by, and Sirius Black still thought of his little brother. He smelt the salt of the sea or heard incoherent French words across the street and thought of eyes just like his own and a speckled nose. He couldn’t forth himself to stop breathing life into him. The grief and pressure of the war that came upon them manifested into one specific tragedy, a death. 17 years old and the black heir goes missing. It was the depression of war weighing on him, but every year on a day in January, Sirius mourned someone who never lived or died. He kept his promise to himself and never spoke aloud about the boy again. James never brought up the name he heard Sirius call in a panic, or why he withdrew from the world once a year. He did end up talking to Regulus again. When he was in Azkaban, he was one of many visitors. Talking to the dead was one of the many perks of insanity. Sirius already knew he was good at playing pretend.
Perhaps Regulus was all in his head. Merely thoughts born of despair. The outcome of roaming empty halls. But Sirius black died thinking he would get to see his baby brother again.