The manor was silent except for the echoing crack of Walburga Black’s voice. Sirius lay sprawled on the cold, marble floor, eyes half-lidded from exhaustion and pain, his body trembling violently under the weight of the Cruciatus Curse.
“You’re a disgrace,” Walburga spat, her voice dripping with venom. “A filthy traitor, still consorting with those Mudbloods and half-bloods. You will pay for your disobedience, Sirius Black. I will make sure you learn your place.” The wand in her hand flicked once again, and Sirius’ body arched in agony. His throat was raw from the screams, but they were never enough, never loud enough to satisfy her.
“Please…” Sirius gasped, his voice barely a whisper. The words felt like ash on his tongue. “Please… I’m sorry… don’t…” His pleading, once powerful and full of defiance, was now nothing more than a trembling whisper.
But she didn’t stop. She never stopped.
His vision blurred, colors bleeding into each other as his mind began to fracture. The pain was endless—more than physical. It was suffocating, it was soul-crushing, and it was all for a choice he’d made, a choice to be himself, to live in a world where blood didn’t matter. But to his mother, this was unforgivable.
He heard someone shout. It was Regulus.
“Stop!” Regulus’ voice cracked, the desperation in his words clear, but his mother’s anger was too much. He knew better than to try and interfere; she would turn that wrath onto him next.
His brother, his younger brother, stood frozen in the doorway. Regulus’ wide eyes locked with his, fear and confusion etched across his face, before his mother’s cold gaze snapped to him.
“Regulus,” she hissed, “do not look away.”
Sirius wanted to speak to him, to tell him that it would be okay, that he’d forgive him, that none of this was his fault, but his voice was lost beneath the sound of his own sobs. Regulus stared at him—quiet, solemn, and filled with an emotion Sirius couldn't quite decipher, but there was no time to wonder.
It was only a few seconds—only a few agonizing seconds—but to Sirius, they felt like hours.
Then, just as suddenly as it had started, the pain ceased.
Walburga’s cold voice echoed one last time. “This is not over, Sirius Black.” She turned sharply on her heel, leaving them alone in the silence.
Sirius collapsed, unable to move, gasping for air as the aftershocks of the curse tore through his fragile body.
“Sirius…” Regulus whispered, his voice breaking as he rushed to his brother's side.
“Regulus...” Sirius breathed out, tears falling freely now, his heart broken in ways he didn’t know it could be.
Regulus didn’t say anything. He just scooped Sirius into his arms with trembling hands, carefully lifting him and supporting him as they walked down the long, dark hallway to Sirius’ room. The weight of what had just happened hung heavily in the air, but neither brother dared to speak of it just yet.
Once inside, Regulus gently lowered Sirius onto his bed, hands shaky as he worked to remove the remnants of his brother’s ruined clothing, revealing the marks of torture—bruises, burns, cuts, and the faintest traces of blood. His hands were as tender as they could be, but the pain was unbearable for Sirius.
“I’ll help you, Sirius... I’ll take care of you,” Regulus whispered, his voice barely audible. He placed his hands on his brother’s shoulders, leaning in to kiss the top of his head, but Sirius flinched.
“I… I’m sorry, Reg... I didn’t want you to see that…” Sirius murmured, his voice cracking as he turned his face into the pillow. “I never wanted to hurt you.”
“You didn’t hurt me, Sirius,” Regulus said softly, his own voice rough with unshed tears. “You can’t hurt me. You’re my brother.”
But despite his words, Regulus couldn’t hide the sadness in his eyes, the emptiness in his heart. He stayed close, but his silence was deafening.
Sirius’ hand, weak and trembling, found Regulus’ and held onto it with all the strength he could muster. “We’re gonna leave, one day... You and me. We’ll go far away… No more Black family… No more her...”
Regulus’ lips pressed together in a thin line, and for a moment, he said nothing. His eyes stared ahead, lost in a place where hope still lingered but the weight of the world had begun to crush him. He didn’t want to promise. He couldn’t promise.
With a heavy sigh, he nodded, just once, the motion small and resigned.
Sirius closed his eyes, feeling his chest tighten, and he drifted into a fragile, tortured sleep, knowing that deep down, the dream of running away together was all they would ever have.
Regulus stayed at his side, his lips pressed together, silently mourning for a future that seemed impossible. He didn’t have the heart to tell Sirius that leaving was not something they could do—not under their mother’s watch. Regulus wasn’t sure how long he would survive in this family, much less if he could ever leave it behind.
But in the darkness of that room, he held his brother’s hand and stayed as close as he could, wondering if love could truly save them—or if it would destroy them all in the end.
And somewhere beneath the bloodstained veil of their family name, Regulus knew there was nothing more tragic than loving someone you couldn’t save.