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“You’re stupid, you know that?” Sirius started, taking a deep breath as he stared at his brother.
He wasn’t angry.
He couldn’t be.
Or maybe he was, because Regulus had made the stupidest choice ever. But there were other things stronger than said hate.
Regulus and Sirius hadn’t had a close relationship in the past few years.
Particularly not in the past few years.
Since Sirius was sorted into Gryffindor, everything had changed. Regulus had changed.
He was sure their parents had a lot to do with it, but Regulus wasn’t innocent either. He could have chosen differently, he could have thought differently instead of believing blindly.
Sirius had. So it was possible. But Regulus wanted so fiercely to believe in it that he had drowned in those ideas.
The man left out a sour laugh, eyes still fixed on Regulus, who didn’t move, didn’t reply or even stared back at him.
“You’re ashamed, aren’t you? Of having realized too late. Of having been so much of a fool.” It came out as a murmur, followed by a shaky breath Sirius tried to recover from. “And don’t you dare blame our parents. They raised you as much as they raised me, and I could make the right choice.
There wasn’t bite on Sirius’s words, but Regulus was still silent. “Quiet as always, I see. Never spoke up when told wrong. Or right.” He sighed, shaking his head.
“This is fucking useless.” A murmur left his lips, turning around to walk away.
He didn’t. He couldn’t.
Whether he replied or not, this was Regulus.
This was his brother.
Always his little brother.
And Sirius wouldn’t walk away when he didn’t even try to defend himself.
It was infuriating, it made him shake in a mix of emotions that both wanted to punch Regulus and hug him.
He was on the verge of tears. In fact, it didn’t take longer than a few more seconds of silence for them to break free from his eyes, turning to face the other once again as his fists clenched by his sides.
“Say something! Fuck, fuck!” It was driving him mad. Or was he already? Sirius was a Black, after all. Weren’t they all? “You could have spoken, you know? Before making such a stupid choice!” He spat, walking towards the other.
He stopped just a few feet away before turning around to walk in the opposite direction, not letting himself get too far, wanting Regulus to hear each one of his words, still not facing him again.
“I know we were fucked up, alright? I know! But that doesn’t give you the right to just— just— WHAT WERE YOU EVEN THINKING?!” Sirius was pouting, kicking the grass and shouting to the air.
This is not how he should speak to Regulus. Not yelling. Never yelling.
But oh, he was his mother’s son, wasn’t he?
Regulus often said it. And it made him rage.
It made him rage because Regulus had never been wrong.
“You don’t say a word now, huh? Come on, fight back, damn it! Since when do you let me yell at you this way?! You’re the first to pull up your kind of bullshit! Tell me! Tell me I sound like Mother! Tell me I’m like her, tell me I’m the greatest idiot, a blood traitor for all I care! Tell me I’m not your damned brother like you did when we spoke last time, but SAY SOMETHING!” He yelled, turning around to walk closer once again.
Sirius’s chest rose and fell, staring at his brother with pure fury now. Because how dare he not even look at him? Not even say a word?
Maybe he could actually be angry.
Or maybe this—yelling, pouting—was just his own way of showing his hurt.
He’d wish for James to be here.
James would tell him to calm down. He had told him to, before Sirius came to face him. But he hadn’t listened, of course he hadn’t.
And of course he had rejected when James offered to come along. As much as he loved James, this was a private matter.
A brothers matter.
James may be his other half in every way possible, but this was just off limits. Even for James.
Sirius’s eyes stayed fixed on his brother’s hair, combed, always combed. Stupidly so. Stupidly resembling their father, and stupidly resembling him.
The stupid mole on his right cheek they shared.
The stupid ruffle collar blouse he always wore in every portrait, in every family picture in the same house his had been burnt.
“Please, say something. Anything.” Once again, his voice was lower, almost a murmur. “Why didn’t you come to me? I’d have never put you apart. Not for this. Never for this, damn it.” He shook his head, tears running down his face, falling and mixing with the raindrops mudding the ground.
Not a word was spoken, but at the end of the day, pictures were just pictures.
As much as Regulus fixed his collar, keeping his cold demeanor, only looking up at the end of the looping image, it was still a picture.
Still a picture resting against a cold stone, set on the top of empty ground. Because Regulus’s body was a mystery.
This shouldn’t be meaningful at all, because Regulus wasn’t really here.
Not just in a literal way, but even metaphorically.
This was just a frame and a stone, resting alongside many others with names Sirius had learnt to hate. Nothing under the ground.
No Regulus, but him.
Ironic, wasn’t it?
Regulus wasn’t even buried here.
Sirius was.
A part of him.
Regulus.
His brother, therefore, a part of him.
Part of him that was now dead, alongside the one it had belonged to.
Buried here, silently, pretending to be close to what was nowhere to be found.
Sirius took a shaky breath, sitting down in front of the stone, hugging his own knees as his head rested on these.
Regulus had tried right.
He had realized, even if too late. And he had been reckless.
Reckless enough to defy the Dark Lord alone.
Sirius didn't even realize when the lights of nearby households lightened up, startled by the yawps that tore through his throat.
As much as James’s cloak covered him, hiding his figure for whoever may walk close, not a single soul would believe the graveyard was alone.
Because those shrieks were animals, yet no creature would come as close as to make that sound.
Because those shrieks were a man unmaking himself, grief rending him open for the part of himself now lost forever.
His brother.