When Stars Fall

Regulus woke at the click of a door closing. His eyes fluttered open and he noticed the position they were in and while there was nothing wrong with that, his face flushed. They'd fallen asleep together many times before, but for some reason the closeness this time made his heart race. He couldn't understand why it made him feel this way this time.

Morgana stirred and he froze, not wanting to wake her. When she settled again, he tangled her hair in his fingers, making small braids and working out a few tangles as gently as he could, and sang softly. The tune was a muggle one that he couldn't remember learning, but it was soft and it came out of his soul in a way that he couldn't describe.

Stars, shining bright above you...
Night breezes seem to whisper "I love you"
Birds singing in the sycamore tree
Dream a little dream of me

Say "Night-ie night" and kiss me
Just hold me tight and tell me you'll miss me
While I'm alone and blue as can be
Dream a little dream of me

Stars fading but I linger on, dear
Still craving your kiss
I'm longing to linger till dawn, dear
Just saying this

Morgana snuggled closer subconsciously and in a half-asleep state began to sing along with him.

Sweet dreams till sunbeams find you
Sweet dreams that leave all worries behind you
But in your dreams whatever they be
Dream a little dream of me

Stars fading but I linger on, dear
Still craving your kiss
I'm longing to linger till dawn, dear
Just saying this
Sweet dreams till sunbeams find you
Sweet dreams that leave all worries behind you
But in your dreams whatever they be
Dream a little dream of me

She adjusted her body so she could look up at him and they both smiled. Morgana couldn't describe it, but it was like being under the imperious curse again. She felt so calm, warm, and most of all... safe. But there was no voice screaming at her to do things this time, she was just content. Somewhere in the manor, a clock chimed, startling them both, and breaking the trance.

They laughed at their start and Morgana rolled off the couch and Regulus onto the floor. They sat there for a minute just laughing.

Then Morgana looked up at the small clock on the table beside the couch. Her eyes widened and she jumped up, running from the room.

Regulus looked after her, confused and now mildly concerned. “Morgana?!”

”BE RIGHT BACK!” she called getting further away.

He chuckled and layer back on the couch. What was that feeling? It was so sudden and strong and new. He’d never had something like that before.

Morgana's room was designed by her mother and father before she had been born so it wasn't necessarily her style, but she'd made it work. The walls were painted a soft blue-green color with a creamish trim. She didn't mind the color but preferred the various moving pictures that covered the walls instead. There were pictures of her friends at school, various events that Sirius had managed to take goofy pictures at that she couldn't bring herself to take down, a small Slytherin banner, and there was a Holley Head harpies poster with tickets from the World Cup last year pinned to it. There were some of her own pictures as well, drawn or taken randomly of the small things she found beautiful, and of course, there were so many pictures of Regulus. She was in most of them, but his smiling face found itself alone sometimes too.

On the walls not occupied by imagery, there were shelves made of dark oak. Some held her favorite books, some stolen from the library, and others displayed various trinkets that she had collected. Regulus joked that she was like a crow in that she liked to decorate her spaces with random little trinkets she found. Morgana wasn't a hoarder by any means but it was more of dark academia maximalism.

One of the walls, which was probably her favorite, was nothing but windows that looked out onto the gardens of the Travers estate and then beyond that, the rolling hills and mountains of the British countryside. There wasn't a balcony, but the windows opened up enough for two teenagers with little will to live to slip through and crawl onto a roof where so long as you didn't slip on the 15-foot trek up to the top, the sunrises wrapped in a fluffy blanket on the flat top were the most beautiful thing in the world. Even the astronomy tower didn't give the same feeling. Plus, no one in their right mind would hide various forms of contraband in the astronomy tower but the roof of the Travers estate was the perfect place to hide a few bottles of stolen firewhiskey, five half-smoked joints, and a small tin of cigarettes "borrowed" from a very confused brother. Sometimes the stress of being 14 right now required a little relief.

But that wasn't the only hiding space. The floor of Morgana's room was covered in a thick grey carpet, but under her bed, there was a small corner that pulled up just enough for a floorboard from the previous flooring plan to be removed. The result? A hole about one foot in length, width, and depth in the floor where she was able to hide things like her diary, a few pictures she could never let her family or Regulus find, a pocket knife that held too many stories, and various other little items that she wanted only for herself.

Regulus knew about this little space in her floor, but he never asked about it. He never dared pry into its contents unless an item was taken out and no longer a secret. They both had their own private little things and that was okay. In case of emergencies, they knew where the other's hiding spot was, but they didn't pry.

It was to this space that Morgana dived when she sprinted into her room from the library. From it, she removed Regulus's birthday present and sprinted back.

He seemed to brighten at her return and chuckled again as she tried to catch her breath. "You good, Ana?"

"Yeah," she gasped for air, "Happy- phew- Happy Birthday."

She held out the small parcel.

Regulus would never admit it, but he loved gifts. Who doesn't after all? Morgana knew this of course, who didn't?

He carefully unwrapped it, careful not to tear the black tissue paper wrapped in ribbon. He would save that, for later when it was time to return the favor. They did that for years, passing the same piece of black tissue paper back and forth on their birthdays. There were other presents from each other of course, but the one that was the most special, the one they gave each other when no one else was around because others might not understand, was always wrapped in that same piece of black tissue paper.

He folded it and set the paper aside before looking at the black velvet box that sat in his hand. He opened it and there, sitting on a bed of satin cushioning, was a locket. It was a small circular silver pendant on a dainty silver chain. Before Regulus even dared to open it to see the picture, he read the note, neatly folded and tucked into the box.

For my best friend in the whole world,

a little cheesy something to keep next to your heart.

The world puts too much pressure on it.

But we love you. We always will.

~M.V.T.

He felt a lump form in his throat as he opened the locket to look at the pictures inside. Though the note wouldn't mean much to anyone else, to Regulus, it meant the world. He knew that he was Morgana's best friend just as she was his, and she knew how much despite his greatest protests and defense mechanisms, he craved something normal. A little cheesy life that was so much easier than what God had given him. She wanted to give him what she could of that. Not just her though... they did.

On one side of the locket, was a picture taken of him and Morgana dancing together. The circumstances hadn't been great, but they'd made it bearable for each other. So many lessons made their feet move smoothly and swiftly around them, their bodies following together. He remembered how happy he'd been to have that picture taken...

And the second one was of him and Sirius. They were so young it almost hurt to look at how soft they looked. But they were young, innocent, and still so free. Him, and his brother...

"I wasn't sure if this one was too cheesy," Morgana chuckled, "It seemed like a good idea at the time, but I totally get it if it's a little dumb and-"

Regulus shut up her rambling by pulling her into a hug and squeezing her so tight that all the air escaped her lungs, "Thank you."

Rarely could they be so vulnerable so Regulus allowed the tears to fall. So much of him hurt, but that didn't matter because he had Morgana, and no matter what, Sirius couldn't get rid of him. They were brothers. He was loved and he loved them back.

Something clicked in his mind right then as Morgana wrapped her arms around him and hugged him back: he loved her. Of course, he did, he always had. But he didn't love her the way he loved Sirius. It was something else and she'd always been around, except that one year, so it never occurred to him that having anyone else to love was an option. She was... truth.

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"Regulus will stay at the Travers," Voldemort stated simply. "I'm not sure what's unclear about that, Walburga."

Walburga, oh so composed, whipped a tear away from her eye, "I just don't understand why. He's my boy... we've raised him right and-"

"-And you still have one that you messed up," he snapped. "Sirius is neither a good influence nor a stable piece in this game. We have too much riding on what-ifs here. I am the greatest sorcerer to ever exist and I will create a new empire! The world cowers at the sound of my name and I will not have some prophecy about headstrong teenagers rupture my path!"

There was a pause. The only people who knew about the prophecy were Walburga and Orion Black, Dahlia Travers, Voldemort himself, and the prophet who had since been driven mad due to torture. They were fighting a losing battle right now, no one but they knew that. From all the destruction and corruption of power and fear that was happening, it looked like they would win, but they knew that the only upper hand they had was this prophecy. If this information were to fall into the wrong hands, these easily molded minds might move the wrong pieces into checkmate.

"Forgive my wife, My Lord," Orion spoke up. "Our first boy... we don't know where we went wrong. Regulus is... well Regulus is the only one we really have left besides each other... She can't stand to-"

"-To see my baby ripped from my hands!" Walburga broke down. "HE'S JUST A BOY! A CHILD! THEY BOTH ARE! HE- He- he's just a boy..."

Walburga broke down in hysterical sobs. Her babies... She had never been a loving person. She married Orion out of necessity. She didn't love him, no matter how much she learned to appreciate him. Her mother had been the same way and no matter how much she had tried to love her mother, it was just coldness. That's the way she was taught it was and how it had to be. She hardened her own heart through the years as friends fell out of reach, family died, and she was swirled through a world that didn't seem to have an ounce of love for her.

It was almost different with her boys. She remembered how she felt when she held Sirius for the first time. Pride. Not love, pride. An hour of labor had produced a healthy baby boy to carry out the bloodline. He was a necessity and she'd done it, her duty. Then there was Regulus... he almost hadn't made it. He was so small and the doctors said there was something wrong with his heart. Even with magic, after thirteen hours of labor and another 2 hours of treatments, it was nineteen hours before she was allowed to hold her baby. He wasn't a necessity, he was her's and her's alone. He was her little boy... the one who was just for her.

Now he was a part of something so much larger than her... larger than she ever wanted him to be.

She could blame the Dark Lord, but she couldn't. Just like with everyone, he seemed to possess some part of her mind. Like a parasite it had infected her and so many others. She couldn't blame him. She could blame the prophet, but she was already dead. Or Orion for giving her a second child, but it was she who took the initiative to get him.

None of these people satisfied her blame... no one but her firstborn. He hadn't been enough for her, she needed another and so had opened her up to love. He was the one rebelling making her baby leave. He was so perfect, but somewhere in there, it all fell on her as to what went wrong...

Dahlia, Orion, and Voldemort had since moved to the drawing room to discuss what to do with Regulus and Morgana and the living arrangements till they were of age, but Walburga remained on the floor, stewing in her hate. Why had the world cursed her with a heart?

Why had God given her a Sirius Orion Black?

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Sirius snuck down from his room, bag packed. He'd already helped dear ol' Moony with the full moon this month as had become his regular reason for leaving, even if his family didn't know that, but the Potters had offered for him to stay for a bit. If all went well, he would probably stay there for the rest of the summer. It excited him to stay at the Potter's. Not only was his best friend there, but Fleamont and Euphemia Potter treated him like a second son in the way that sons ought to be treated.

He approached the fireplace, planning to just floo over since no one would miss a bit of the cheap powder, but a light clicked on. Sirius spun quickly, wand raised, not that that would do much good, to face... his mother? It was indeed his mother, but he'd never seen her like this. He wasn't sure if anyone had.

Walburga Black was meticulous with how she appeared to people. Her lipstick, a dark mauve color, was never smeared, never stuck to her teeth, and always smooth. The rest of her makeup was the same: sharp and perfect. Her clothes accentuated the sharpness of her figure and the solid color blocking gave her an air of sophistication and wealth. Walburga had been "cursed" with unbearably curly and frizzy black hair that she took considerable time every single day to make sure was done up properly with absolutely no stray hairs. Her hair whalebone hairbrush had the remanence of her black nail polish from the time before she learned to do her nails and makeup after her hair, which now was always perfect with everything else.

The Walburga Black before him was not that. She was still sharp, but her face was free of makeup, showing just how pale her skin was, her lips were merely tinted red from how she'd scrubbed off the lipstick, and her usually oh-so-carefully styled hair was a mess. A glass of brandy hung from her hand dangerously loose, and a half-empty bottle sat next to her. Her perfectly tailored robes were substituted with a cream-colored nightgown that had a few spills of what Sirius assumed was the brandy on the front.

"Mother?"

She said nothing as she stood up, getting close to her son's personal space. She put her face right in front of his and stared into his eyes. Sirius realized all too late the look there. No matter, how disheveled Walburga Black got, she never lost her ability to give malice the most terrifying face.

Walburga shoved the boy hard. He stumbled back and felt the dizziness come rushing in when his head hit the edge of the mantle. She stood over him. "I... tried... so hard with you, Sirius... And now... I can see you are nothing more than a sad version of your father... At least he has power and sense... What do you have for me but disappointment?"

She was shaking with rage at this point, hardly able to force out the words. It gave Sirius time to regain his senses and push her away from him and stand up.

She screamed as she was thrown farther than he intended and crashed into the wall. The glass finally fell from her fingers and crashed to the floor, shattering. He stood there stunned for a moment as his mom sobbed over the broken glass. But again, this hesitance was to his detriment.

"You!" she screamed and threw bits of glass toward him. He put his arms up in time to block his eyes but a few small chunks nestled themselves into his hair and cheek. He could feel the anger in himself now. "You! Are nothing! But a disappointment to this family!"

"You! You with your pure blood mania! You're insane mother!!" He yelled back, "Do you hear yourself sometimes? Cause I do!"

"See!! This is exactly why I can't have Regulus anymore!"

"Regulus? Your puppet!? My idiot brother is soft enough to believe you, but I'm not!"

"Crucio!"

Sirius had never felt pain like that before. It was worse than a thousand knives digging themselves into his skin. It was worse than if he'd set is head on fire. It was worse than getting every bit of your skin peeled back for the muscle to touch the world. It was worse than death. He felt himself screaming and writhing on the floor, but all he could think of was the pain. Almost as soon as it started it was over, but he could still feel its effect on him.

As he lay there shivering on the floor, his mother stepped over him again. "I wish I could've loved you, Sirius... but you weren't there for me to love... I never wanted kids you know. But I did my duty because I had to. I didn't have to make Regulus but I did... and I blame you for not being enough. I blame you for me needing Regulus, for loving him. Because now... he's not mine anymore..."

She began to sob again and ran away from him, up the stairs, and into Regulus's room. She just needed part of him.

Meanwhile, Sirius lay there, letting tears run down his face as the firey hot pains of the cruciotus curse still ricochetted in his body. He was still down there hours later when Orion came for breakfast. He was stepped over without a thought.

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Sirius wasn't sure how he got to the Potters, he couldn't remember moving, but there was Euphemia doting over him when he came out of his daze. James was pacing and kept having to be restrained by his father from jumping into the fireplace.

Finally, he was home, and there he vowed to never call anything else that: home.

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A/N: I hope you are enjoying this little story so far, please comment and constructive criticisms or things you would like to see :)