Chapter Text
Regulus sat on one of the chairs lined up against the wall, his hands tightly clasped in his lap. He watched people filtering in and out through the glass doors—women in cardigans, men in uniforms, even someone with a service dog. The CPS office buzzed like a beehive, but Regulus felt like he was frozen in time.
He glanced at Lori, who was busy at her desk. The clock above the social worker’s desk showed three in the afternoon. Four days ago, she explained the situation: his parents couldn’t take care of him, and he needed a temporary home. The words still rang hollow in his ears. A "temporary home" meant strangers. Strangers meant rules he didn’t know, expectations he couldn’t meet. It meant being completely alone.
"Sweetheart, is there anyone in your family you’d like to stay with?" Lori’s soft voice cut through his thoughts. "I understand this isn’t easy, and our options may be limited. Think about distant relatives. Maybe a family friend?"
Regulus froze. His mother’s voice seemed to echo in his mind: Family loyalty is everything. No one outside this family is to be trusted. He could almost hear her sharp, clipped tone, see the disapproving tilt of her chin. His stomach churned with guilt.
“I…” He hesitated, his gaze darting back to the clock. He twisted his fingers together until his knuckles turned white.
An image of Sirius came to him—blurry and half-formed, like a dream he couldn’t quite remember. Would his brother even care? Did he still think about him? Or was Sirius gone forever, like his mother had said?
Regulus’s voice was barely above a whisper when he finally spoke. “I… I have an older brother. His name is Sirius Black.”
Lori looked up from her paperwork, her expression encouraging. “That’s wonderful, sweetheart. Do you know where he lives?”
“No. I don’t…” He trailed off, his hands tightening in his lap. “I don’t know if he’d… want to see me.”
“Why wouldn’t he?” Lori’s tone was gentle but probing.
Regulus bit his lip. Because he left, a small voice whispered in his mind. Because he gave up on all of us. And I’m breaking the rules by even saying his name.
“He didn’t… get along with our parents,” he said, carefully avoiding the truth. He felt his chest tighten. “It’s been years. He might not want me.”
Lori leaned forward slightly, her tone reassuring. “It’s worth trying. Maybe he’s been waiting for you to reach out.”
Regulus nodded, though doubt gnawed at him. He wasn’t sure if he was hoping for Sirius to save him—or bracing for the disappointment of realizing he wouldn’t.
And now, sitting in the office, Regulus wasn’t so sure it had been a good idea. His hands clenched and unclenched on the edge of the plastic seat as he glanced at the clock for what felt like the hundredth time. For two hours, he had played out different scenarios in his head about how to greet a brother he hadn’t seen in four years. Would Sirius be angry? Dismissive? Would he even remember him?
He tugged at the cuff of his sleeve, trying to focus on the fabric instead of the rising panic. Should I tell him I missed him? No... better to keep it casual. Say it’s temporary, and I’ll stay quiet. His lips pressed together tightly. Being quiet... that I can do.
The glass doors swung open with a clatter, and Regulus’s heart jumped to his throat. A young man strode in, his black boots echoing loudly against the floor. His denim jacket hung loosely on his broad shoulders, and his black hair was pulled back in a messy knot, a pencil stuck haphazardly through it. He scanned the office quickly, assessing everyone inside, before striding purposefully toward the nearest staff member—a bald man in a checkered shirt—and gesturing animatedly as he spoke.
Regulus’s breath caught when Sirius’s gaze swept over him. He looked nothing like Sirius in his memories. This man was taller, his frame sharper, with tattoos snaking down his forearms.. But even with all the changes, Regulus could never mistake him for anyone else.
Mr. Checkered Shirt seemed to understand what he was asked about and gestured toward the office where Regulus sat. Sirius raised his head to see where the man was pointing, and their eyes met. For a second, the boy forgot to breathe. Sirius's expression flickered—surprise, hesitation, and then something softer, almost tender. Regulus’s chest tightened. He wanted to say something, anything, but the words stuck in his throat.
“Uh, hi,” Sirius muttered, stopping at the doorway and looking at his brother.
His voice was deeper, firmer, then Regulus remembered. They stared at each other for several seconds until Lori cleared her throat delicately, reminding them of her presence. Sirius seemed to snap out of a trance and turned toward the desk in the middle of the room.
“Sorry, ma’am. My name is Sirius Black. I’m here about my younger brother,” he said, making an uncertain gesture toward the corner where Regulus stood, back straight, eyes cast down.
“Ah, yes, of course. We’ve been expecting you. I’m Lori Mitchell, a social worker with the London Department of Children’s Services. It’s very nice to meet you, and thank you for coming. Let’s all sit down. Regulus, please come here.”
Reluctantly, Regulus tore his gaze from the floor and approached the chairs near the table. He waited for Sirius to take a seat before sitting across from him, hands clasped tightly on his knees. He wanted to take in every detail of his brother, but it felt impolite.
Regulus’s gaze flickered up briefly before dropping back down. He’s not scary, he told himself firmly. But I can’t mess this up. He was terrified of embarrassing himself before he even opened his mouth. His leg bounced nervously under the table, and his hands felt clammy. The weight of the moment pressed down on him, making it hard to sit still.
“So, Mr. Black, we’re glad you’re able to provide a temporary home. We’ve already received feedback from our colleagues who inspected your living arrangements, and I believe it’s safe to say they’re not ideal but acceptable. We always prioritize placing children with relatives or close family friends to reduce the stress of the situation,” Lori said.
“Oh, right. Of course… I’m happy to help,” Sirius replied, his voice tinged with nervousness. Regulus could feel everyone’s eyes on him. “We haven’t seen each other in years. I… I don’t speak to the family.”
“In this case, your estrangement from the family is actually a point in your favor,” Lori continued in her professional voice. Then she turned to Regulus. “What do you think about this arrangement?”
Regulus took a deep breath and straightened his back, forcing himself to meet Lori’s gaze.
“I don’t mind if it doesn’t cause any inconvenience,” he said, his voice tense. He carefully chose his words, trying to make it clear: "I won’t be a burden." He hoped Sirius would understand.
“Hey, Reggie.” Sirius leaned forward slightly, his voice softer now, and tinged with something close to warmth. “I’m really glad to see you. I’m so sorry it’s under these circumstances. I don’t know what they’ve told you about me all these years, but I never wanted to leave you in that house. We’ll talk about everything, I promise.”
Regulus fought the urge to stare at his brother. Reggie. He hadn’t expected Sirius to remember his name, let alone use the childhood nickname. For a moment, he wondered if this was all some elaborate dream.
He froze, afraid to move. He’d waited so long to hear those words that now they felt unreal. Strangely, instead of relief, he felt the sharp sting of tears building behind his eyes.
Sirius reached out tentatively, placing his hand over Regulus’s clenched fingers.
“Reggie, I know how scary all this is, but I’ll be here for as long as you need me.”
The words hit him like a punch to the chest. They were so familiar that he couldn’t stop himself from looking up. For a moment, he forgot his fear and saw not a stranger, but the brother he once knew.
“Yes, I… It sounds nice” Regulus whispered, his voice hoarse.
“Would you like to come home with me today?” Sirius asked, his voice gaining confidence with each word. “I have a dog at home. I think you’ll like him. He’s a bit ridiculous, but he’s sweet.”
Regulus nodded silently.
“And there’s someone else I’d like you to meet. My girlfriend, Marlene. She’s at home, and I’m sure you two will get along,” Sirius added with a small smile.
Another nod. Regulus wasn’t entirely convinced this was real, but for now, he allowed himself to believe it might be.
Sirius smiled back, wide and warm, a smile that seemed to fill the entire room.
—- ‘’ —-
Marlene was typing away on her laptop. Her editor expected the article by tomorrow evening, but she wanted to submit it today. The next day promised to bring new responsibilities, and the chances of missing the deadline felt far too real.
Over the past few days, life in their apartment had turned upside down. For three days straight, they had been filling out forms for the Department of Child Services. The room, once lined with books and Sirius's scattered sketches, now had a simple bed, a small desk by the window, and shelves left for their new occupant to fill as he liked. She was trying to binge watch every video on helping children adapt after psychological trauma. Her boyfriend had dismissed it, joking that “psychological trauma is just part of the Black family inheritance.” He claimed it was an investment in his unmatched sense of humor.
Marlen’s eyes fell on the stack of documents on the table next to her half-finished coffee. Had they done enough to prepare?
When Sirius got the call from social services with the news that his brother had been temporarily removed from their family, he’d looked utterly shocked. But after the initial surprise, there had been a fragile glimmer of hope. Sirius rarely spoke about his family, but she knew he still felt guilty for leaving his younger brother behind. He’d taken charge of all the negotiations and home inspections with social services, regaining his usual determination. But Marlene knew him better. Beneath his jokes and bursts of energy was often the fear of losing control over the situation.
Her phone buzzed on the coffee table. Sirius had texted: “We’re heading home. He’s grown so much, Marlene—I still can’t believe he’s here.”
“Waiting,” she replied briefly, adding a heart emoji. How will he fit with us? How will we fit with him?
She made a few final edits to her text, satisfied with the result, and headed to the kitchen to make herself a cup of tea. Turning on the electric kettle, she remembered the chocolate bar she’d left in the fridge.
The sound of the fridge door opening drew the soft clicking of claws on the parquet floor from the hallway. Seconds later, a curious muzzle peeked into the kitchen.
“Oh, you heard your favourite sound in the world, didn’t you?” Marlene smiled as the enormous grey dog approached and tried to stick his head into the fridge. His large brown eyes looked up at her pleadingly. “Fine, here’s a little cheese for you,” she said, pulling a slice of cheddar from its wrapper. “Think of this as your last treat as the only child in the family. You’ll have to share from now on.”
The dog eagerly gobbled up the cheese and wagged his tail in appreciation. His warm fur tickled her hand as she absently scratched behind his ears. Conveniently, when sitting, the top of his head reached just above the kitchen counter.
A little over a year ago, they had adopted him from a shelter, fulfilling their shared dream of getting a dog. At the time, Marlene had been working on a story about a local council campaign aimed at reducing the number of stray animals. One shelter director had told her that large dogs often ended up on animal control’s radar because irresponsible owners underestimated their size as adults. As an example, she’d shown Marlene a young Irish Wolfhound curled up in a metal cage. The dog was already the size of a small pony.
Sirius, upon receiving a dozen photos of the dog that day, had immediately texted her back: “This is fate. We can’t leave him there.” And so, they’d brought home a huge, but gentle beast who terrified their neighbours but was inexplicably afraid of cats, plastic bags, and drum solos in songs. Sirius had convinced her to name the dog Lord because, in his words, it was “hilariously ironic.”
Lord had been their first big decision as a couple, something they dove into with excitement and just enough planning to make it work. This, though, was different. As Marlene looked around their slightly chaotic apartment, she thought about how much had already shifted in just a few days. Technically, Regulus’s placement was temporary—just until the courts decided. But even temporary changes had a way of leaving their mark.
—- ‘’ —-
The sound of a key turning several times in the lock echoed through the hallway.
“We’re home!” Sirius called out cheerfully.
Marlene placed her cup in the sink as Lord immediately jumped to his feet and raced toward the door. Pausing in the living room, she decided to give them a bit of space. Sirius entered the room, kicking off his boots, a slightly awkward smile on his face as he carried an old but expensive-looking leather suitcase. The black leather, worn in places, wrapped around a wooden frame, and the silver latches gleamed in the daylight.
On his way to her, Sirius gently tugged at Lord’s collar, slowing the dog down as it eagerly wagged its tail at their new guest. Marlene couldn’t quite make out the boy who lingered in the shadows of the hallway, but she decided to wait, giving Sirius the chance to introduce them.
Sirius kissed her lightly on the cheek, set the suitcase down near the couch, and called out:
“Regulus, come into the living room. I want to introduce you to someone.”
The small boy silently stepped into the room, his large eyes curiously taking in his surroundings. Marlene immediately noticed how much the two resembled each other—the same dark chestnut curls, high cheekbones, though softened by the youthful roundness of Regulus’s face. Against Sirius’s more familiar profile, Regulus looked almost doll-like.
Sirius maintained the image of a laid-back, confident tattoo artist. Years playing rugby on his university team had left him broad-shouldered and lean, while his long, loosely tied hair and inked skin completed the look. The one thing that hadn’t changed were his silvery-grey eyes, which seemed almost crystalline against his dark hair. Marlene had been struck by them the first time they met and still found herself involuntarily captivated.
Regulus’s appearance, by contrast, was warmer at first glance. His wide eyes, framed by thick lashes, were a deep, rich brown, like melted chocolate. A scattering of pale freckles dusted his slightly upturned nose and cheeks. His soft curls were neatly trimmed, just brushing the tops of his ears. Dressed in a light blue shirt, a navy blazer, and pale grey trousers that looked like they had once been perfectly pressed, he embodied the image of a young aristocrat.
The boy hesitated shyly at the entrance to the living room, clutching a violin case in his hands. Marlene was already tempted to nudge Sirius to say something, but Regulus seemed so captivated by the new surroundings that the awkward pause went unnoticed. Lord, unlike his owner, wasn’t one to hesitate, dashing straight toward the guest. Sirius grabbed his collar and continued:
“Well, let’s do the introductions,” he said with a smile, turning to his brother. “This is my girlfriend, Marlene. We’ve been living here together for a few years. I’ve already told you on the way how amazing she is, but now you can see for yourself.”
Marlene stepped forward and gave a warm smile.
“Hello, Regulus. You won’t believe it, but I’ve heard a lot about you too. I think we’ll get along just fine.”
“Good evening, ma’am,” Regulus replied with a polite smile. “I’m glad to meet you as well. Thank you for allowing me to stay in your home. I hope our time together will be pleasant and won’t cause any inconvenience.” He finished with a slight bow.
Marlene exchanged a surprised glance with Sirius, who just gave a small shake of his head as if to say, “I’ll explain later.”
Lord let out an impatient whine, glancing reproachfully at his owners.
“Oh, right, sorry,” Sirius exclaimed, dramatically gesturing toward the dog. “And this, his fluffiness and the lord of this house. Well, actually, his name is Lord.” He grinned, clearly pleased with himself. Marlene just rolled her eyes.
“He’s very friendly, but he can get a bit overexcited when meeting someone new,” she added. Regulus looked at the dog with undisguised curiosity, and Marlene already counted it as a small victory. “You can hold out one hand first. He’ll sniff it, and then he’ll come closer.”
Regulus took a deliberate step forward, extending his hand palm-up. Lord happily trotted over, pressing his cold nose against the offered hand. Not stopping there, the dog sniffed the boy from head to toe, focusing particularly on his hair and the violin case now tucked behind his back. Having completed his inspection, Lord gave him a lick on the cheek. Regulus let out a small laugh, his gaze filled with pure admiration for his new companion.
Sirius and Marlene exchanged smiles. The sight was amusing: sitting, the dog was a tiny bit taller than the boy, who had to tilt his head back to meet the animal’s eyes.
“How about some tea and biscuits, and then I’ll show you your new room?” Sirius suggested.
Regulus nodded.
“Perfect! Let’s head to the kitchen.”
Marlene busied herself brewing tea while Sirius piled at least three types of biscuits onto a plate. Regulus sat at the edge of a kitchen chair, carefully placing his violin case on the seat next to him. His eyes roamed the apartment, pausing on various small details.
I wonder what he thinks of it? Marlene scanned the kitchen and the spacious living room. Their apartment was cozy, a bit chaotic, where dozens of items lacked a specific place yet somehow came together harmoniously.
Her particular pride was the bright tangerine couch in the living room and the checkered rug in the kitchen, treasures they had unearthed at a Sunday flea market. Sirius loved hanging his sketches and paintings on the white walls. Marlene appreciated how alive the apartment felt, as if it breathed with them. She noted the sheer curtains, white and sky blue, swaying at the slightest breeze. The record player stood proudly on the coffee table, surrounded by mismatched vinyl records in vibrant covers. Books and mugs traveled from surface to surface, following the rhythm of the home’s occupants. Even Lord’s fur, swirling in the beams of sunlight, seemed poetic—a comforting declaration, Marlene told herself, rather than the cleaning challenge it truly was.