Chapter Text
London, September 29th
When Regulus steps foot in London after nearly four years- he doesn’t get the life-altering click of a puzzle suddenly falling into place. Nor the revelation that millions of paths have magically opened up again. Or the deep-set ache of nostalgia, awaiting with open arms and waiting to envelop him warmly.
No. All Regulus gets is a static, busy airport full of Monday blues, and the unmistakable obnoxiousness radiating from his brother before he even properly sees him. It hasn’t even been a full second and Regulus is sporting a Sirius induced migraine.
“Reggie! Over here!” the numpty shouts, waving his arms around like a lunatic that has the messes of people immediately looking their way. Regulus sighs deeply and tugs his knitted beanie down until it nearly swallows his face. Knuckles whitening from the harsh grip on his suitcase, Regulus keeps his gaze firmly on his feet as he forces one step before the other to make his way towards Sirius.
Finally glancing up when his loafers stop a few steps away from heavy leather boots, Regulus nearly winces at the sight of his brother’s face.
“Regulus,” Sirius says his name slowly, enthusiasm dwindling as he finally takes Regulus in. As if he’s just remembered he isn’t here to pick up any brother, he’s here to pick up him. They don’t hug. They stare each other down- taking everything in. Four years of unspoken things taut between them, threatening to snap.
Sirius has grown his hair out from the last time Regulus saw him. Where it used to just past his nape, Sirius’ loose curls now dangle over his shoulder. He looks older, too. Face sharper, the glint in his eyes somehow brighter. Regulus remembers being small and wishing desperately for Sirius to never lose that about himself, despite his parents being determined to punish it out of him. Annoyingly, Sirius is still a few inches taller. Regulus takes this all in, the sight of his brother after four years, and wills himself not to break down crying.
Eventually, Sirius holds up some sort of sign. Regulus arches a brow, eyeing the pathetic wriggly lines done up in the ugliest shade of red Regulus has ever seen. ‘Welcome back, eggie!’ Oh, never mind. Apparently the noose-looking thing is supposed to be an R.
“My friends said it would be nice,” Sirius explains, rather awkward. Regulus gingerly takes the sign, unnerved at his brother’s new attitude. Sirius doesn’t do awkward. Maybe he’s been replaced by some sort of alien while Regulus was away? “It’s in your favorite color, too. Still red?”
“It was never red.”
“Oh.” More awkwardness. God, is it too late to change the one way ticket? “Uh…blue?”
“Green.”
“Right, yeah. Haha. I knew it,” Sirius chuckles weakly, rubbing his hands together. This is so weird. “Uh, so. Let me get your bags. James is parked outside.”
Regulus nearly flinches at the name. Of course. He should’ve expected this. Sirius and James do not exist without the other. Letting Sirius back into his life, of course he would follow. Regulus desperately tries to shove every thought he has on the matter down.
Regulus doesn’t have the energy to stop Sirius from taking his luggage, leading them out of the airport. He doesn’t even have it in him to insult Sirius for bringing along best friend and unknowingly throwing Regulus into more misery and awkwardness. Regulus only follows along, London draining him little by little all over again.
Regulus has spent so long running. And look where he is. Right back where he started. It’s raining outside. Regulus glares at the sky and wants to scream.
“London weather, crappy as shit,” Sirius grunts, hauling Regulus’ suitcase and book-bag. “What the bloody hell did you put in here?”
“The corpses of my enemies,” Regulus replies solemnly, following. They walk past numerous cars in the drop-off lane of the airport. “Do you even know where your car is?”
“Of course I do. You’re such a little shit! It hasn’t even been ten minutes and you’re bitching,” Sirius scowls, and Regulus has to pinch himself to not linger on the way he reminds him of their mother. It’s jarring, Regulus-
“-watch out!”
Too lost in his thoughts, Regulus’ foot catches on uneven cement and he face plants on the slick pavement that isn’t sheltered. The onslaught of the rain cools the stinging in his palms from the rough fall, at least. His curls and clothes stick to his forehead unpleasantly as he immediately gets thoroughly soaked.
A car door opens beside him. Bright red converse stops directly in his line of vision as the rain abruptly stops falling. Following the shoes up to its owner, Regulus wants to die.
James Potter holds an umbrella over his head, peering down at him with eyes Regulus has memorized and a face etched in every wrinkle of his brain. “Regulus. Are you alright?”
Regulus was. At least, he convinced himself he was alright, up until now, when he’s confronted with all that he’s left behind. And the worst part is, that things have changed. Everything is the same but it isn’t and Regulus seems to be the only one stuck.
“No,” Regulus grumbles, wishing he could melt into the ground and drain away like rain water. “It seems I can never be.”
______________
Paris, August 18th, six weeks prior
Regulus feels nothing as he watches the sun glint across his parents’ tombs.
He only wonders if the universe is mocking them. The weather in Paris had been mucky and distasteful all week prior to the funeral a few days ago. Yet here Regulus is, skin sweltering under his black sweater and trousers, the air sweet and wind gentle as it ruffles his hair and sways the leaves. Not a cloud in sight. Summer arrives kind and welcoming while his parents are tucked away six feet under. Regulus would laugh if he had it in him, but he can’t bring himself to. The earth is rejoicing in the deaths of his parents, but Regulus feels nothing.
It’s early enough that the private part of the cemetery is vastly empty. Regulus knows all eyes are on him– especially after this whole ordeal, and paparazzi had been largely fed with his lack of emotion during the actual service. Where the world was expecting a heartbroken boy, a son in mourning, they got a stone-faced Black with no comment on anything.
Regulus refused to answer questions. He refused to make a statement. He left the obituary to be handled by his cousins and couldn’t stand to be in the same room as them outside of what was necessary. Regulus has spent all his time so far being nothing. Doing nothing. If it weren’t for his butler who’d taken to herd him like a mother hen, Regulus wouldn’t have eaten or bathed, either.
Distantly in the back of his mind, Regulus knows that once the numbness passes, he’ll be angry. Angry at his parents for having such an easy way out. How they’ve shaped so much of his life and helped him ruin it and now they’re just gone. Left Regulus’ ruin in his own hands. The worst part is that Regulus let them.
But for now, Regulus is content with not feeling anything at all. He’s always felt too much, always brimming with the need to spill over and just let someone see. And now all of that has evaporated. Regulus feels nothing.
His phone rings, bringing Regulus out of his head and back to the cemetery, where he’s been listlessly staring at stone. He fishes the device out, barely glancing at the caller before shoving it back in his pocket. Unknown number. Probably another distant, distant relative calling to suck up to him and get a piece of the will.
Regulus is ready to sink back in his thoughts when it rings again. Then again. Regulus grits his teeth and finally answers, ready to give the persistent bastard a piece of his mind-
“Regulus? Is…that you?”
Regulus’ heart stops. His blood turns to ice and every emotion he hasn’t been feeling comes rushing back all at once. He staggers back, barely managing to keep himself from collapsing. It…can’t be. Regulus’ ears are deceiving him, surely.
It’s been four years.
“It’s me,” Regulus manages to rasp. His throat is scratchy and dry, a telltale sign from how scarcely he’s spoken. “How’d you get my number?”
His brother sighs deeply on the other line, taking a moment to reply. “Did some digging. Asked around.” He doesn’t elaborate further, and Regulus doesn’t ask. “I saw the news.”
Regulus is suspended between immense anger and a deep-set ache of longing. In the end, his voice is carefully flat. “Did you?”
A shaky laugh. Another deep inhale. “Regulus, I-”
“Four years, Sirius. We haven’t spoken in four years.”
Silence. Regulus stares at their parents’ graves, gripping the phone tight until his hands tremble. Just as he thinks Sirius has hung up. Left– as usual, until his brother speaks carefully.
“I’ve thought a lot. About what happened. With us. Between me and our parents.”
Regulus listens quietly, hanging on to every word, willing it to be the balm to his open wounds yet only feeling the sting of salt.
“We were so young, Reg,” Sirius continues, voice cracking. “We didn’t deserve that. And you didn’t deserve to be…left all alone. I shouldn’t have- I…should have protected you better. When you left, I was so angry at you.”
“I was angry at you too,” Regulus whispers. He swallows thickly, hating the sting in his eyes. “I’m still angry at you.” And I’m angry at myself, too.
“Yeah,” Sirius says with a fragile laugh. “But they’re gone, Reg.”
“You want to mend our relationship now that our parents are dead?”
“No, Christ– I…I miss you, is what I’m trying to say.” There’s a rustling on the other end before Sirius’ voice comes through firmer with resolve. “I just thought it would be easier for you to come back. Now that there’s nothing tying you there. If you still insist on taking on the business, the headquarters are here in London.”
Regulus knows that. Regulus knows all of that- which is exactly why he’s been so keen on shutting off all his feelings.
“Come home, Reggie,” Sirius says, voice a touch of pleading. Regulus clenches his fists until crescent indents bloom across his red palms. “Is it too late for us?”
Regulus thinks it's always been too late for them. He thinks Sirius hasn’t been his brother for a long, long time.
Still, it must be the hysteria Regulus has accumulated from burying his parents. Or the festering guilt between his ribs that compels him to say, “I need a month to sort things out.”
Or maybe it’s the simple truth, buried long under these years of distance and pain. The truth that Regulus has missed his brother, too.
______________
London, present day
After the disaster at the airport, Regulus had convinced himself that nothing else could go any worse. If you start out at rock bottom, the only place you can really go is up. So while being helped up by James, bearing the fussing of his brother and having to duck into the car dripping all over the seat, Regulus remained calm. It would be fine. They’d get to Sirius’ apartment, Regulus could curl up into a ball and pretend to not exist.
Well, apparently James plucked that thought from Regulus’ head and put a big red X on it.
“We hope our apartment will be to your liking,” James is saying, glancing through the rearview mirror at him. Except Regulus is hung up on the ‘our apartment’ bit. “Nothing like your fancy manors in France, I’m sure. But Sirius says you’ll be staying until Grimmauld finishes being renovated, and-”
“You live together,” Regulus interrupts faintly, staring at the raindrops sliding their sorry way down the car window. He feels Sirius turn slightly to look at him, and his absence of guilt at not telling Regulus a very glaring detail, prods at Regulus’ suppressed anger.
“Yeah, funny thing,” Sirius chuckles sheepishly, absent-mindedly threading his fingers through the rips of his black jeans. Wearing ripped jeans and some band T-shirt on a rainy, Monday morning in London is very on brand for Sirius. It’s astounding to Regulus how every familiar detail he learns about Sirius after all these years, comforts him. Though the comfort ebbs and is replaced by mounting annoyance at how brazen Sirius is being about this. “I was gonna tell you, but you know, you were always in such a rush-”
“I was taking care of business in France. I couldn’t just up and leave-”
“-and that assistant of yours, Juniper? June-?”
“Janice-”
“Oh yeah. Lovely voice, by the way. Very creative insults. Anyway, she kept saying you had no time-”
“-because I didn’t-”
“And we only talked the details of you living with me temporarily very briefly-”
“-I was very busy, and I told you not to call at specific hours, and guess what you did!? You called only in those hours-”
“Excuse me for having a life, too, I don’t just sit around all day-”
“Hard to believe-”
“Alright, I’ve had it with this new attitude of yours, Regulus! You can-”
“Stop it!” James nearly runs a red with how loud Sirius and Regulus’ voices have gotten. Regulus had leaned forwards in the back seat while Sirius’ seat belt strained as he was half over the center console. He brakes hard, sending Sirius right back into his seat and Regulus slamming back on his own. Several cars honked at them angrily and James guiltily waves a hand. He huffs, gripping the steering wheel before scowling at them. “An insult from either of you, and you’re walking.” James blinks at Regulus and his scowl is gone so fast Regulus nearly gets whiplash. “Not you though, Reggie. You must have had a long journey.”
“He flew here from Paris!”
“Regulus to you,” Regulus corrects James, ignoring his brother. James meets gaze in the mirror and grins.
No. Nope. Absolutely not. Regulus is screwed. He is indefinitely, irrevocably, entirely screwed. However, he will do everything he can to ignore all James Potter related problems. First, he has to deal with his other ones.
“I can find someplace else,” Regulus declares, crossing his arms and arching a brow as Sirius turns to glare at him. “We can always…meet over coffee.”
Sirius laughs incredulously, reaching up to card through his hair aggressively. “Really. Coffee. Wow, I guess now I really know where we stand.”
“What did you expect? That I come here and things magically get better between us?”
Sirius’ nostrils flare, eyes mirroring Regulus’ anger as he turns back in his seat forcibly. The signal flashes green and James starts driving again, hesitantly glancing back and forth between them.
“Drop him off, James,” Sirius says, glancing out the window. “This was a terrible idea.”
“The first smart thing I’ve heard you say,” Regulus echoes with a cool chuckle. Something heavy lodges between his ribs, but the pain is masked under every other overwhelming emotion.
“No,” James says with a sigh, “Come on, you two are angry and not thinking right.”
“Sirius is never thinking right.”
Sirius points back at Regulus and gives James a look, one that can only say ‘see? I’ve just realized that I am a total shithead and this whole redemption thing isn’t working out so let me abandon my brother like I’ve always done.’
Okay. Maybe Regulus read into that one a lot, but give him a break.
“Regulus,” James says, this time giving Regulus his full attention. Pretty eyes glinting with this wistfulness that can’t even be obscured by his glasses. Regulus grits his teeth and yells at himself to look away, but he doesn’t. “Just come settle into the flat, just for tonight. Just until you and Sirius can properly sit down and have a chat before you decide anything.”
“Don’t bother, James,” Sirius says bitterly, as if he’s resigned himself. Regulus feels bile rise up in his throat once he comes to the horrible realization that maybe it wasn’t Sirius himself that reached out in the first place. Maybe this had always been a pity thing, with the realization that with their parents gone, Regulus is entirely alone. Had Sirius decided to come back into his life to gloat? To point at Regulus and say, I told you so. Look at what you’ve done to yourself. That doesn’t seem like the brother Regulus knew four years ago, but he’s starting to learn that perhaps he hadn’t known his brother at all.
“Fine,” Regulus forces out, glancing out the window and tracing the raindrops again. Willing the sting in his eyes to go away. “My phone is dying, anyway.”
The portable charger in his bag says otherwise. Regulus feels a slight satisfaction at Sirius’ surprised expression, and the way James lights up like the sun. Looking out the window again, Regulus realizes it’s stopped raining.
______________
The flat doesn’t look like it’s falling apart from the outside or inside, so there’s that.
Regulus was skeptical at first, especially when James quickly rushed in and slammed the door in Regulus’ face as Sirius was left to deal with bringing his luggage up from the car. The door was opened a few moments later sheepishly, James telling him he might’ve accidentally left things lying around before he and Sirius left for the airport. If Regulus were stronger, he’d write James off as a complete dimwit in his head, however his traitorous mind finds anything James Potter does adorable. It’s nauseating. Regulus doesn’t know how he’s going to live with himself back here.
Regulus had finally decided to grab his own suitcase to bring over to the guest bedroom as Sirius looked three seconds away from combusting by the time he got up to their floor, which was either the fifth or sixth. Regulus was honestly trying hard not to lean into James’ warmth in the elevator to pay attention to the floor.
The room he’s been given isn’t spacious but it isn’t small. Undecorated, yet somehow homey. His childhood home had felt stiffer than this, which Regulus doesn’t even want to unpack right now. He only collapsed into the generous queen sized bed before a knock resounded on the door.
“Aren’t you supposed to let me settle in?” Regulus calls out with a groan, rolling over to press his face into the bedding. It smells like it’s been recently washed, which he appreciates. Regulus would murder Sirius if he’d been given a bed with infestation or mold or something equally as terrible. “It hasn’t even been ten minutes.”
“You can settle in after you eat something. I know you haven’t had lunch yet,” Sirius calls back. Regulus wonders what James said to Sirius that convinced him to try all this again with Regulus. There’s shuffling and then the click of the door, and Sirius peers in, snorting at Regulus’ sorry form. “Fine, take a half-hour. James made pasta for dinner last night that I’m re-heating.”
“You’re so lazy it’s revolting.”
“Half-an hour, and then we talk.”
Flipping the now-closed door off, Regulus reluctantly peels himself off the bed to unpack and freshen up. Throwing the suitcase on the bed, Regulus clicks it open to reveal the few things he’d decided to bring himself. A few pieces of daily clothing, pajamas, and some of his favorite novels. His fancier attire, millions of shoes and hats and accessories had all begun their steady pace to London a week after his call with Sirius. His assistant and butler had been told that he’s moving to Grimmauld, so that’s where all of that is going. Along with some files and every business thing Regulus was all too eager to get off his hands. His assistant had warned him Grimmauld was being renovated, but Regulus could not give less of a shit. Like he would be happy to go back to the place he’d spent some of his worst and best years in simultaneously. The thought of going back to Grimmauld, of finally taking over the business and partnerships has his stomach in knots.
Glancing around the room again, listening to his brother humming in the distance, the faint sound of the TV, Regulus tries to convince himself that he’s using Sirius as more of an opportunity to put off his responsibilities than actually reconnect with his brother. A shitty move on his part, sure, but Sirius is being an arse, too. Regulus is an arshole. He takes pride in that sometimes. He has also yet to be humbled, however he does not dwell on that.
Shoving his clothes and books out of the way, Regulus digs out a wrinkled envelope and carefully turns out its contents. A picture of his parents. A picture of him and Sirius when they were young, taken in front of the eiffel tower. One of the rare pictures where they were both together and smiling. One that Regulus can’t bring himself to stop cherishing.
Finally, he carefully unfurls the last picture, frayed at the edges and wrinkled from the amount of times Regulus has brought it out and hidden it. It depicts a warm summer picnic, in the back of one of their estates in France. A huge meadow with a willow tree. It shows a younger, kinder version of his father holding Regulus on his shoulders. Regulus has his arms thrown up and his smile is wide, revealing two missing front teeth. Beside them, Regulus’ mother is sitting leant up against the tree, Sirius leaning over from behind her with his arms wrapped around her shoulders. They have identical grins.
Taking in the scene and letting himself mourn a time he’s long forgotten, Regulus slips the pictures inside the envelope before burying it deep in his suitcase, locking it shut once more.
______________
“What are you-”
“Shh!”
Regulus has a great shower. That means he doesn’t have a mental breakdown questioning every decision he’s made to lead him up to this point. He did his usual routine, wore his favorite knitted jumper and sweatpants, and mentally prepared himself for the grueling conversation he and Sirius had been putting off.
Except when he gets to the living room, Sirius is staring wide-eyed at the TV with a spoon dripping pasta sauce all over the plush red carpet. Regulus was hung up on that for a few seconds, shooting Sirius a disgusted look. Then his brother gestures at the TV and Regulus squints, realizing it’s live footage of Trafalgar Square, the camera shaky and screams ringing out. The camera pans to the distance where it shows a huge fire. An explosion of some sorts, maybe?
Regulus’ eyebrows shoot up. “Woah.”
“Don’t worry, Spiderman’s on it,” Sirius reassures, eyes fixed on the screen. Just as Regulus is about to call him an idiot and ask about- Spiderman, seriously, what a stupid-
“What the fuck,” Regulus breathes, watching as a…a…person (?) in red and blue spandex swings through. They seem to plunge directly into the smoke, returning in seconds with injured, rattled civilians alike. Sirens sound in the distance, but everyone seems focused on the masked…oh. You’ve got to be fucking kidding Regulus.
“I’ve been gone for four years, and London gets a superhero?” Regulus asks incredulously, watching cheers ring out as…Spiderman seems to herd everyone to safety.
“You’ve missed out,” Sirius says, finally glancing over at Regulus. He also finally seems to notice the sauce he’s been dripping onto the carpet. The dunce stares down it before shrugging and licking the spoon. “I’m sure this news traveled worldwide at this point, though. Haven’t heard about it in France?”
“I haven’t exactly been keeping up with here,” Regulus grumbles, following Sirius into the kitchen. Despite himself, Regulus asks, “Where’s Potter?”
Sirius pauses, before shrugging again. “He said he had errands to run. Practically ran out.”
Regulus narrows his eyes, “Uh-huh.”
“Anyway, lunch, and then talk?”
“Yeah,” Regulus sighs, resigned. He glances back out into the living room, finding the TV and watching Spiderman shooting…white stuff. Oh. Webs. Okay. That’s a thing he can do, sure. Spiderman shooting webs across the place aiding policemen and firefighters, somehow finding time to wave at the camera or help a hysterical person. All the while, Sirius is setting up two plates humming like this is all completely normal.
Miserably, Regulus gets the ominous feeling that he will not know peace for a long, long time.