and still we sleep

No feeling was final. Sirius knew that. He’d always considered himself an optimistic person. Sure, he’d spent a lot of his life fucking miserable, but there was always some good stuff to look forward to. There was always a light at the end of the tunnel. He had to believe that.

But lately, it had been feeling like misery was his perpetual state and it was starting to drive him fucking crazy. It was like some dark cloud was just looming over him, following him around everywhere he went, preventing his happiness from lasting more than five fucking minutes. He has a nice night talking to Remus? Of course he has to have a fucking nightmare and puke his guts out two hours later. And then death eaters attack his friends at Hogsmeade. And then, as if all that wasn’t enough, his little brother might be a fucking death eater. He hangs out and talks about poetry with his friends in the Shrieking Shack? Well, the next day the only member of his extended family he ever liked at all dies. He gets a huge inheritance from said family member and becomes filthy rich overnight? Here’s an envelope from his mother to top it all off. Hey, your uncle just got posthumously disowned and it’s all your fucking fault. Because fuck you, Sirius Black. That seemed to be the universe’s mantra right now. Just, fuck you, Sirius Black .

How the fuck was it that his life actually got worse after leaving Grimmauld Place? That wasn’t how it was supposed to be. He was supposed to be better now. The hard stuff was supposed to be over.

He didn’t sleep anymore. At least, not properly. Sometimes he’d fall asleep for an hour or two at a time and wake up to some bullshit nightmare that made him too scared to try again. Or sometimes he’d drink so much that he basically passed out but then he’d wake up with a hangover, feeling just as exhausted as he had before. But he hadn’t just laid down in his bed and slept straight through the night for what felt like ages.

Remus was kind of the only good thing he had going at the moment. It was honestly a little bit scary just how well Remus seemed to know him. Usually, with this sort of thing, people liked him because they didn’t know him. Then, Sirius would let some part of his real self slip, and they’d get to know him, and they didn’t like him anymore. Sirius was fine with that; it was just life. He usually didn’t let anybody stick around long enough to see him, anyways. But Remus had seen Sirius after a nightmare, he’d sat through Sirius’s embarrassing drunken rambles about his feelings and shit, he’d watched as Sirius threw stinging hexes at somebody, and still, still , he seemed to like him. Any one of those incidents would have been enough to send someone else running. But not Remus.

Sirius didn’t know why Remus was sticking by him through all this shit, but he was going to hold onto him as long as he could. Remus was comfort, a sure thing for him to cling to as the whole fucking world fell apart around him. Everything was simple with him.

He could tell that Remus worried about him. Usually, other people’s pity and concern made Sirius bristle, but with Remus, he found it actually felt kind of good to be worried about, if only because it meant he really cared about him. Still, though, he didn’t give him much information. He’d told him about his trouble sleeping, sure, but had refused to divulge any further details about the reasons why. There were some things he just never wanted him to know. He’d rather Remus stay clean, untainted by the darkness that seemed to loom over him at all times.

It was no fucking wonder he was worried, though. Sirius looked like absolute shit. There were bags under his eyes, his cheeks were sunken, his skin sallow and almost translucent. This was especially embarrassing because Remus always managed to look fucking good all the time. Also, just because Sirius was supposed to be the best looking person at this school but now when he looked in the mirror, he basically just saw a tired fucking skeleton with nice hair. And those were on his best days.

On his worst days, when he looked in the mirror, he saw his father.

It wasn’t just his looks, though. It was in the way he moved- heavy, lethargic limbs that took forever to respond to him- eyes that he practically had to force open, that teared up at random moments throughout the day for no reason at all, the way he had to grab his desk or table every time he stood up because the room spun beneath his feet. He went through every day exhausted, shaking his head and slapping himself just to keep from falling asleep, and then, the moment he was in his bed with the lights off, he had all the energy in the world. He’d never quite appreciated the blissful unconsciousness of sleep until he was left without it. The day was full of distractions, but nighttime was quiet. At night, without sleep, it was just him and his own mind. Stuck with himself, just thinking, for hours on end.

Sirius hated thinking. He liked doing. But how much could you do, really, functioning on zero fucking hours of sleep?

Nothing, he’d found. There was nothing he could do.

It was getting to James, too, though he insisted it wasn’t. Together, the two of them had tried it all. They’d cuddled in James’s bed in pretty much every position imaginable. They’d thrown their pillows and blankets on the floor and made a little fort to try to sleep in. They’d borrowed a really boring book from the library and had James read it aloud to Sirius to see if he could bore him to sleep. They’d run around the halls under the invisibility cloak to wear themselves out, which had only left them energized with fits of hysterical laughter. But none of it had put Sirius to sleep. As a last resort, Sirius had insisted that James just stupefy him and be done with it, but James had, predictably, refused.

Sirius had even considered, on a few occasions, just whacking his head against the frame of his bed and seeing if that did any good, thinking back on Reggie’s concussion when they were kids and how long he’d been unconscious after that whole thing. But Reggie had been pretty fucked up after that and almost died, and that felt a bit excessive to Sirius. He just wanted to sleep. Besides, he’d probably traumatize James pretty badly if he just started maniacally whacking his head against the bed frame, and he’d already saddled James with enough shit for one lifetime.

Sirius was tired. Tired of everything, his family’s bullshit, Reggie’s bullshit, fucking Hogwarts. It felt like everything annoyed him nowadays. All he wanted was to fucking sleep.

He’d tried to immerse himself in their poetry assignment, but though reading poetry had become one of his favorite activities, he found writing it to be inexplicably impossible for him. And when he asked Professor Keating for help, the professor had simply taken the opportunity to ask if Sirius was doing alright and point out that he’d seemed very tired lately.

“Wow, very observant, professor,” Sirius had deadpanned. “However did you guess?”

The professor gave him a flat look.

“Okay, sorry,” Sirius sighed, running a hand down his face. “Hey, you should tell Madame Pomfrey.”

The professor frowned. “Tell her what?”

“Y’know, that I’m tired and that it’s like, affecting my performance in class,” Sirius said. “Then she’ll have to give me dreamless sleep.”

“That… doesn’t sound like the greatest idea,” the professor said hesitantly.

“Oh, Merlin, not you too,” Sirius groaned. He had been to Madame Pomfrey a few times since the whole issue arose to practically beg her for a couple bottles of dreamless sleep, but she had refused to give it to him lest he become “dependent.” Sirius would have simply snuck in and stolen some, but it seemed like Madame Pomfrey was in there all the time, and even when she wasn’t, he had no clue where she kept them.

“I don’t care if it’s like, a temporary solution or whatever the fuck,” Sirius said. “I just- urgh.” He cut himself off with a groan, rubbing at his eyes. He probably should not have been cursing at a professor so much. “I just wanna sleep, y’know? I don’t care how it happens.”

“Sleep isn’t the problem,” the professor said. “It’s just how the problem’s manifesting itself.”

Sirius blinked. “Is this some poetic old-person wisdom shit? ‘Cause I’m not really at my best right now and I really don’t give a fu- er- a shit. Oh, sorry.” He shook his head. “Shit’s a curse too. Sorry.”

The professor looked amused. “What I’m saying is, you not sleeping- it’s an internal problem. It’s not a wound you can just slap a dittany over and heal. Dreamless sleep will make you sleep, but that’s all it’ll do. It won’t get to the root of it, so whatever the real problem is will just manifest itself in another way. There’s no external solution for an internal problem.”

Sirius frowned, considering. Muddled as his brain felt at the moment, it did make some sense. “So, what’s the problem, then?” Sirius asked. “And the solution?”

“That’s for you to figure out,” the professor said, shrugging.

Sirius sighed. Of course.

He understood what the professor was getting at, though. He wanted to find the internal problem, he really did, but finding the internal problem meant more thinking . It meant more sitting alone with his thoughts and trying to figure himself out and he really, really didn’t want to do that.

“James?” he whispered that night, staring up at the ceiling.

Sirius was in James’s bed again. There were no personal boundaries between the two of them. Sirius had, for a moment, wondered if James would feel differently about Sirius in his bed if he knew about… that , then promptly decided not to think about it. He had much worse things on his mind. Maybe he’d revisit that one later once he managed to actually fall asleep.

“Mhm?” James asked, voice slurred with exhaustion. He could have fallen asleep at any moment, though he insisted that he wasn’t tired at all. He was only staying up for Sirius’s sake.

“Why do you think this is happening?”

James turned his head over on the pillow to face Sirius. “Why do I think what is happening?”

Sirius shrugged. He was still flat on his back, looking up at the ceiling. He didn’t want to look at James. “Y’know. This. All this nightmare stuff. Like- like, I’m out of the house. It’s over. So why does it keep coming back up? What’s the root of the problem?”

James was silent for a moment. “Maybe it’s just, like, a delayed response or something. Like, now that you’re out and you know what normal is like, your brain is like, ‘hey, remember that thing, that was kinda fucked up.’ It’s just catching up.”

“But why?” Sirius said. “Like, I just wanna be done with it. There’s literally no reason to still be thinking about it. Like-” he threw his hands over his face in frustration. “Fuck,” he whispered shakily. “If it’s not over now, then… it’ll never be over. It never ends.”

“It will be,” James said firmly, putting a hand on Sirius’s arm. “It will be, we just… we’ll figure it out, okay, together. It’s gonna be-”

“How the fuck would you know anyway?” Sirius snapped, pulling his hands away from his face and turning to look James dead in the eye. “You have no fucking idea how this feels! Your life has been so fucking easy!”

The guilt hit Sirius in full-force at James’s startled, hurt look.

“Okay, sorry,” Sirius whispered. “Sorry, sorry, I didn’t mean that. I didn’t. I just, like-” he sighed. “I’ve just been waiting for it to stop and I thought leaving would make it stop but it didn’t, it even made it worse in some ways and I just… I just feel like, if it really never ends, then that means this is it. This is all there is. I have to deal with this shit forever. I’m gonna be like this forever. It’s never over. It's just… It’s never over.”

“You can’t- Pads, just-” James sighed, his voice equally shaky. “You can’t talk like that, okay? We’re gonna figure it out. It will be over one day. It will.”

“When I’m dead, maybe,” Sirius mumbled. He rolled over and buried his head into James’s pillow. “I just wanna sleep,” he groaned, voice muffled.

“I know,” James said, sighing. “ Fuck , Sirius, I know.”

They fell into a tense, defeated silence. Sirius almost felt guilty. He could tell James was scrambling to think of something comforting to say, but coming up empty. With his words failing, James instead laid a hand on Sirius’s back and began rubbing slow circles.

“Hey, aren’t you hot in this jumper?” he said suddenly. “Maybe if you take it off-”

“No,” Sirius snapped. “I like it.”

“Alright, alright,” James said. “Sorry. Forget I said anything.” He paused. “If you do fall asleep, I’ll be here in case anything- well, I’ll be here. Okay?”

“Thanks, James,” Sirius said, burying his face further into the pillow. He wasn’t going to fall asleep, but he at least appreciated the effort.

Two hours later found Sirius in the same position, head buried in James’s pillow, wide awake. James snored softly beside him. He’d been asleep at least an hour now.

Sirius rolled over, sighing. He supposed he was just going to have to resign himself to another night of wakefulness.

He sat up and glanced over at James, smirking when he realized he’d fallen asleep with his glasses on. Carefully, so as not to disturb the mattress, he climbed over him, setting his bare feet quietly onto the piles of clothes and robes scattered all over the floor. When he was safely standing on the other side of the bed, he plucked James’s glasses off and set them on the nightstand beside him, pulling the covers up over him. At least one of them was getting a good night’s sleep. Perhaps Sirius would just pretend he’d fallen asleep too so James didn’t feel guilty about it the next morning.

He flopped back onto his own bed- wincing at the creaks of the mattress springs, but James hadn’t stirred, thank Merlin- and grabbed his notebook from the nightstand. He flipped it open to the dog-eared page. One word graced the top of the sheet: poem . Below it, rather than actual attempts at poetry, he’d only scribbled down hapless, frustrated ramblings over the past few weeks.

Poem

How do I write poetry

The cat

sat on the mat

I’m tired

SOB+RL ← middle name???

Fucking poetry yay

This is stupid

I’m so tired

Please sleeepppppp

Help

Yeah, none of that was getting turned in for an assignment. Nor was it anything closely resembling poetry, not even “the cat sat on the mat”. He tore the page out and crumpled it into a ball, moving to throw it onto the floor but stopping himself. He didn’t need James reading it and seeing those initials. The fact that he’d written them in the first place was embarassing enough. Sleep deprivation was turning him into some stupid girl or something. 

(What was Remus’s middle name, though? How did he not know that by now?)

Anyway, he needed a complete do-over. He tossed the paper ball into the drawer on his nightstand and stared at the new, blank page in front of him. He spent probably ten or so minutes staring blankly at it, quill in his hand as if he were actually going to write something, before tossing the book aside with a frustrated huff. When you’ve been awake for long enough, your brain enters this sleepy, foggy sort of state, he’d begun to notice. Especially if he stayed in his bed long enough.

Whatever. If he wasn’t going to fall asleep, he could at least get the fuck out of this room. He swung his legs over the edge of the bed, shoving his bare feet into his boots. No socks, because he really just did not give a fuck anymore. Stumbling blindly over loose books and articles of clothing that coated the floor, he grabbed the invisibility cloak from James’s closet, careful not to jostle the hangers too much. He tucked his notebook and quill into the pocket and threw the cloak around his shoulders. He slipped out through the door, closing it quietly behind him.

If he was going to try to write poetry, he could at least get a change of fucking scenery. He knew of at least one place that was bound to be completely empty at this time of night. He’d tried writing there before, but maybe being there alone when it was empty would make some sort of difference.

The night was crisp and clear, that time towards the end of March where just a hint of Winter’s chill still lingered in the air. The breeze bit through the fabric of Remus’s jumper, chilling his skin beneath. He threw the invisibility cloak off, tossing it over his shoulder. He didn’t like wearing it any longer than he had to; it freaked him out to look down and not see himself.

The grass was covered in a cool layer of dew that soaked through the bottom of his sweatpants as he walked through it. The cold was pleasant, though. Grounding. He drew a deep breath of wet, crisp air through his nostrils, letting it invigorate him, like rinsing his brain in cool water.

He stared up at the sky. The moon was brighter than usual. Probably full, he thought. He never was able to tell with that shit. Sometimes he’d think it was full only for it to be missing a sliver or some stupid shit like that. Why would anyone need to keep track of the moon anyway?

He trudged through the grass down to the shrieking shack, hugging his chest and rubbing his arms. Perhaps Remus’s jumper hadn’t been the greatest choice for the weather, but there was something stupidly comforting about it. He wore it most nights.

He levitated a rock over to hit the knot on the Whomping Willow before slipping his wand back into his sleeve. It felt strange, doing all this by himself. He’d never been out here alone before. He went through the secret entrance as he always did, slipped down the long, curvy passageway the way he always did, but when he arrived in the Shack’s dingy basement, something felt off.

It was loud. The Shrieking Shack was, in his experience, an ironically quiet place. He’d always figured nobody knew about it but the four of them. They were the only ones who used it. Everyone else said it was haunted, that people heard screams and thumps coming from it at all hours of the night, but Sirius, and the rest of the Dead Poets Society, had brushed them off as just stupid stories.

Now, he wasn’t so sure.

There was something upstairs, that much he knew. Thumping and banging, throwing things around, making these weird screechy howling noises. Some sort of animal, Sirius assumed. He supposed that made sense, given the scratches all over the basement walls, the way the furniture was always in a complete state of disarray.

He approached the stairs cautiously. He’d never even been up there. They always stayed down in the basement. The commotion continued, growing louder the closer he got to the steps. He knew that he should probably turn around and go back into the tunnel, but curiosity overwhelmed him as he took a few tentative steps up the stairs, craning his neck to get a glimpse of the source of the commotion.

There was a door at the top of the stairs. Fucking seriously?

Shit, well, might as well go have a look, he figured. Why not?

He reached the top of the stairs and pushed the door open cautiously, peering through it. The first floor of the house was in a similar state of disarray as the basement, scratches all over the walls and floor, furniture scattered all over the place. The room was dim. Whatever animal had been making all that noise, it had quieted down.

Sirius opened the door all the way and took a careful step onto the creaky hardwood. It was all one room, he found, more like a cottage than a shack. There was a front door and window to his right. He could tell from the patterns of light through the glass that both were boarded up from the outside, though not very carefully. There were only a few small boards of wood covering the window, and only one visible through the top window of the door.

Some animal stood in front of the window, its details mostly indiscernible aside from huge size and thick fur. Moonlight seeped through the grimy window behind it, rendering it a dark, hulking figure before the dim light of the full moon, long shadow cast down on the hardwood.

It wasn’t really scary, Sirius thought. Rather fascinating, actually.

The door behind him forgotten, he took a few cautious steps closer, careful not to creak over the hardwood. He could feel the thing’s breaths, deep and even, vibrating through the floor, filling the room with a tense rhythm.

Perhaps it was friendly. Sirius would be going crazy too, if he was locked in here all the time. He wondered how long it had been stuck in here. It must be lonely.

He was close to it now, just a few steps behind it. He could reach out and touch it, if he wanted.

He raised his arm, tentatively extending his hand out towards the thick, dark fur.

In one quick, jolting movement, the animal turned around.

Sirius snatched his hand back in a panic. He saw only a glimpse of marred, clawed-up canine features before the animal was unhinging its jaw and roaring right into its face.

Sirius was frozen in place for only a moment, staring into the putrid breath and teeth the sizes of steak knives, before he turned and bolted back towards the stairs. His movement seemed to spur on the animal, which bounded after him, right at his heels as he reached the door, too close for him to even close the door behind him. Instead, he practically threw himself down the stairs, scrambling to his feet when he landed and sprinting for the entrance to the tunnel. He threw himself into it headfirst.

Growls and snapping jaws stopped at the tunnel’s entrance as Sirius crawled away frantically, heart pounding in his ears. He was probably safe now- the thing was far too big to fit through the tunnel- but still he imagined it lurking at the entrance, brainstorming all the ways it could squeeze through and eat him. Why had he even insisted on going up to see it in the first place? Merlin, for a smart person he was really fucking stupid sometimes. He stopped, flopping down onto his back and staring up at the ceiling as his chest rose and fell with rapid pants.

He sighed, rubbing at his shoulder where he’d held the invisibility cloak. He’d landed on it rather hard when-

Wait. Shit.

The invisibility cloak. It was gone.

He felt frantically around him, turning around, praying it had just slipped off his shoulder in the passageway, but the tunnel was empty. He must have dropped it back in the shack, then. With that thing.

Sirius rubbed the space between his eyes and tried very hard not to panic.

If James were here, he’d probably tell him to keep going. That it didn’t matter, that he’d rather Sirius be okay.

But it did matter. It was a family fucking heirloom. Passed down through generations. After everything the Potters had done for him, now Sirius was going to go and lose their most prized possession? Or let it get ripped to shreds by some fucking animal thing?

Fuck. Fuck. He had to go back for it. He had to.

He glanced apprehensively back towards the edge of the tunnel. The animal was hovering by the entrance, growling, pacing about wildly like a caged tiger. Probably thinking about all the ways it wanted to eat Sirius.

He inched closer to the edge of the tunnel, holding his breath, scooting along as quietly as possible. He wondered if the thing could smell him.

As the animal paced back and forth, he caught a glimpse of the stairs behind it. There was a dark, heavy mass of fabric sprawled over a couple of the steps in the middle. The cloak. He just had to make it to the stairs, then. Just get the cloak, turn, and run back into the passage. Easy. He could do that. 

Slipping his wand from his sleeve, he gripped it in his sweaty palm and aimed it at the animal, inching as close as he could to the edge of the tunnel. He could do this. He could do it.

He drew in a deep, shaking breath.

“Stupefy!”

He didn’t even check to see if he’d hit it, just threw himself out of the tunnel and leapt past the animal, blood rushing in his ears as he sprinted up the stairs, taking them two at a time. Slipping his wand back into his sleeve, he grabbed the cloak, and turned to run back down the stairs.

The animal was scampering towards him, right at the bottom of the stairs. Sirius froze. 

Fuck. New plan, then. He turned and sprinted back up the stairs, one arm wrapped tightly around the cloak, slamming the door behind him. The door was flimsy and dilapidated but it would probably hold it off for at least a few seconds. He paused at the top of the stairs, looking around wildly for some other escape in the decimated one-room shack. His eyes went straight to the front door, which had a ridiculously large stack of chain locks holding it in place.

Fucking seriously? One wasn’t enough? As if people were just dying to get in here.

Something slammed against the door behind him. Wood cracked and splintered.

Sirius leapt over discarded chairs and shards of wood to the front door, practically collapsing against it and fumbling for the first lock. His heart thrummed in his ears, hands quaking something awful as he undid the chain locks one by one, fingers barely able to grip them. He could hear the thing scratching at the door, howling, wood splintering as it broke through the barrier. He tried desperately to block it out.

The animal got through just as he reached the final chain lock.

He heard its heavy, scampering steps bounding across the shack towards him as he yanked the door open and sprinted right through-

With a thud and a dull explosion of pain on his forehead, he found himself lying flat on his back, vision white, head spinning.

He blinked in bewilderment. What the fuck had happened? He was given no time at all to process before something sharp dug into the skin of his arm.

He let out an involuntary yelp of pain and shot up into a seated position, limbs seized with panic. The thing was inches from his face, its mouth wide open as if poised to bite.

Sirius punched wildly at its face with his free hand, hitting over and over again with no regard for where his fist landed. The thing’s jaw snapped shut with a whine, and Sirius seized the opportunity. He lunged for the open door, throwing himself through it feet-first and yanking desperately at his arm, trying to free it from where it was trapped between the animal’s paw and the floor. The thing looked back up at him and roared again, warm breath assaulting Sirius’s face and making his eyes water.

In a panic, he fumbled for the doorknob with his free hand and pulled the door shut as far as it could go. His arm stayed clamped inside, claw embedded in his flesh. He could barely see through the tears, barely feel anything but this stupid thing stuck in his arm. He wanted it out. He wanted it out.

“Fucking let go,” he panted, yanking at his arm desperately.

Instead, the animal tugged his arm closer. Sirius’s head and shoulder slammed against the door frame at the force. Panic jolting through his body. Fuck. Fucking shit. He did not want to be an amputee at seventeen fucking years old.

He lifted his head to peer through the crack in the door. Through his blurry vision, he could see the animal lowering down toward his bloody arm, jaws wide open, its claw speared through Sirius’s flesh like a fork.

Fuck. Fuck. He couldn’t let this thing bite him.

He threw his other arm through the crack in the door and desperately punched at the animal again, yanking his good hand back immediately.

The animal whined again, lifting its head to look at him.

They locked eyes, and everything seemed to stop.

It didn’t have a monster’s eyes, Sirius thought. They were soft and brown and sad. Sirius found himself stuck in its gaze, heart still thrumming in his ears. He almost didn’t want to leave it.

The animal had frozen too. Its jaw was open, as if poised to bite on his arm, but only hovered above it uselessly, as if Sirius’s gaze had somehow locked it in place. Its grip loosened on Sirius’s arm.

For a moment, through that crack in the door, it almost felt like they were one, locked in each other’s gazes, its claw embedded in Sirius’s skin, panting in simultaneous panic.

Then, something seemed to snap in Sirius’s mind, and he pulled his arm free with one final yank and slammed the door shut between them.

Surged with energy, he leapt to his feet and bolted away from the house blindly, heart pounding in his ears, head throbbing. His sleeve was warm and sticky and growing wetter by the second. The world rushed and lurched past him.

He ran as fast as he could, panting and clutching his arm, until his foot caught on a tree root and he found himself falling flat onto the ground for what felt like the millionth time that day. Twigs crunched beneath him as he rolled over onto his back to face the sky. The full moon seemed excessively bright in his sensitive eyes, his head still throbbing, vision blurred in the light.

Slowly, he pushed himself up into a seated position, brushing leaves and twigs out of his hair. The animal was still howling, the sound muffled by distance and the walls of the shack. He hadn’t even run that far, he realized. The shack was still visible, even with his blurred vision.

He squinted. He could see, now, one board nailed to the frame of the front door. He laughed hysterically, rubbing his head. He’d run right the fuck into it while trying to escape. Merlin’s fucking sake, if that thing had bitten him because he hadn’t been looking where he was going, that would’ve surely been the most embarrassing way to die. James would’ve never let him live it down. Which, he would be dead. So. He supposed the phrase didn’t really apply.

All of this shit because of a stupid fucking poetry assignment. A poetry assignment.

He turned his neck, too exhausted to move the rest of his body, to take in the rest of his surroundings. He was in grass by a gravel road, a few cottages and shops on the edge of the woods behind him. Hogsmeade, he realized. So that’s where the Shrieking Shack was.

Merlin, it was a long fucking walk back to Hogwarts. One that he seriously didn’t feel like making right now.

He flopped back onto the grass again. His vision swam, warping the stars above him into unnatural patterns, swaying about like waves of water. Eyelids heavy. Fuck, if he kept on laying here he’d be asleep in no time. Fucking finally.

A violent shiver wracked through his body. The dew from the grass was seeping up through Remus’s jumper, cold and wet and unpleasant. All but his right arm, which was also soaking wet, but strangely warm, and tingly. It was a rather nice sensation, he thought, wishing the rest of his body felt like that, too.

Aside from the stickiness. The stickiness was not pleasant. Nor was the stinging. It really stung, actually. That wasn’t nice at all. It fucking hurt. Why did-

He shot back up into a sitting position, panic spiking in his chest, stars exploding in his vision at the sudden movement. The thing had scratched his fucking arm. How had he forgotten? Merlin, his brain was at half fucking capacity. He tried to lift it. It wouldn’t even move on its own. Fuck. He used his other arm to maneuver it towards his chest to inspect.

His first thought, ridiculously, was for the sleeve of Remus’s jumper, which had been reduced to soaking crimson shreds, sticking painfully to the raw skin of his arm. Fucking dammit, he loved that jumper.

He peeled back the fabric to reveal the more pressing issue: a huge, gaping gash in his arm, buckets of blood spurting from it like a fucking faucet. Blood was fucking everywhere, soaking up the sleeve of the jumper, seeping into the grass and the soil beneath him, dripping warm and sticky down his bare skin. Merlin, did he even have that much blood in him?

If he kept on laying here he’d be dead in no time.

“Fuck,” he whispered to himself. “Oh, fuck. Fucking shit.”

He went to flop down into grass and aborted the movement halfway through, catching himself and pushing back up with his good arm. The panic hit him all at once, jolting through his shaky limbs. If he laid back down, there was a good chance he’d never get back up.

He didn’t want to die. Life sucked but he did not want to fucking die. Especially not here.

He clapped his free hand over the gash and squeezed as tight as possible, wincing at the pain. He had to keep the blood inside of him.

“Okay,” he whispered, nodding to himself. “Okay.” He was Sirius Black. He was Sirius fucking Black and he was not going to die on the ground outside Hogsmeade from a fucking scratch on his arm.

In ten seconds he was going to get up and walk back to Hogwarts. 

It was a lesson he’d learned when he was very young: if he could get through ten seconds of pain, he could get through any amount of it. Embrace it for ten seconds, he told himself, then get the fuck up. He hadn’t used the trick in nearly a year, since he lived at Grimmauld Place. But it never failed him.

He shut his eyes and counted to ten slowly, trying to maintain deep, controlled breaths. In and out. He let the pain in. He let the tears fall. There was no one here to see them.

When he reached ten, he gathered all the pain and fear together and pushed it into the back of his mind. He stood up on shaky knees, head spinning from the movement, stars bursting behind his eyelids. It wasn’t that far, he told himself. He could see Hogwarts from here. He’d made this walk a million times. He could do it again.

He clutched his arm, blood seeping warm and sticky through his fingers as the world spun and pulsed around him, grabbing the fence for support every few steps. The urge to stop was overwhelming, but he pushed it down, replacing it instead with thoughts of everything he’d miss if he fucking dropped dead right here. There were so many jokes that he and James hadn’t told yet, a million things they had yet to laugh at together.

And Remus. Shit, he’d only just met Remus. A few months with him wasn’t enough. He wanted an entire lifetime with him, an entire lifetime of warm brown eyes and waking up with his face pressed against warm jumpers. He wanted that flat in muggle London near the record store with the park on the other side of the street. He wanted to listen to Queen and David Bowie collaborate, dammit.

And Reggie. His baby brother; all big silver eyes and adorable dimples and silky curls that slipped through Sirius’s fingers when he ruffled them. He’d missed so much of him growing up. But it wasn’t too late. He wasn’t done growing up. Sirius wanted to be there for the rest of it. He wanted to see the sort of adult his baby brother would turn out to be. He wanted to hug him and tell him just how much he loved him and drag him away from those death eaters and out of that dreadful house and never let go of him.

James. Remus. Reggie.

He wasn’t sure how long he walked for. Time felt fluid, like waves of water, at some points jolting forward in a huge wave and at some points feeling impossibly still. There was a ringing in his ears so persistent that he couldn’t even hear himself, only the rapid thrumming of his heart.

His throat shook with every breath, limbs wracked with shivers. He embraced the cold air around him, thinking of a different chilly night, sitting on the roof of the astronomy tower, the very same lyrics and cigarette smoke tangling together in the air between them. His seventeenth birthday.

Seventeen birthdays was nowhere near enough. He wanted more. Fuck it, he didn’t even care if he never slept again. He didn’t care if he had to deal with all that shit from his childhood for the rest of his life. He just wanted to live.

His arm really hurt. At some point he started whisper-singing. He couldn’t even hear himself through the ringing in his ears, but it at least gave him some activity to occupy the time. He pushed the pain back, pulling the lyrics of the song to the forefront of his mind. He’d dealt with so much worse than these. He’d been crucio’d, for fuck’s sake. He was Sirius fucking Black and he could deal with a tiny little fucking cut on his arm.

Time still wasn’t flowing consistently, but he’d probably sung through the whole song about three times before he looked up to check his progress again. A rush of relief flowed through him. He was close now, really close. He could see Gryffindor tower, where James and Remus slept right now. He could even see the astronomy tower, the roof where it had all happened. With new motivation and a sudden burst of energy, he picked up his pace, tightening his grip on his arm.

“It was cold, and it rained, so I felt like an actor, and I thought of Ma, and I wanted to get back there, your face, your race, the way that you talk. I kiss you, you’re beautiful, I want you to walk…”

He’d kissed him right at that line, too. So fucking dramatic. He’d known exactly what he was doing. Merlin, Sirius just wanted to kiss him again.

That thought was enough to propel him to the nearest entrance. He let his injured arm hang limp by his side for a few moments as he fumbled the door open one-handed, then went back to cradling the arm to his chest.

Warm air surrounded him the moment he stepped through the door, a little laugh bursting from his chest. He’d never been so fucking relieved in his life. He didn’t even bother to put the cloak back on. Fuck, if he came across Filch right now he’d probably run up and give him a hug.

He resisted the urge to lean against the wall for a moment, speed-walking blindly through the halls. He couldn’t afford to take a break. 

He wasn’t even sure where he was going, torn between the hospital wing and Gryffindor tower. Logically, he knew he should be going to Madame Pomfrey, but some stupid part of him just wanted to go straight back to Gryffindor tower and into Remus’s room. Remus would almost certainly drag him to the hospital wing anyway and reprimand him for not going there in the first place, but at least then he’d have Remus with him when he went.

He stumbled through the halls, stones blurring past him in a panicked haze, clutching his arm, debating between the two options. He rounded the corner. He supposed the hospital wing was closer, but-

He smacked right into someone.

Another wave of dizziness hit, and he squeezed his eyes shut, reaching blindly for the person to steady himself. As his hands landed on those bony shoulders, he recognized him immediately. He always knew him.

“Reggie,” he panted.

He forced his eyes open to get a look at his little brother’s face, but his vision was so blurred out that he could hardly make out anything past wide silver eyes and ashen skin. Even paler than usual. His eyes darted up and down Sirius’s body wildly and settled on the bloody arm, his mouth hanging open.

“Er,” he squeaked. His voice was tight and shaken, but imbued with the slightest bit of flat sarcasm as he said, “Er. You… you have so much to live for?”

Sirius frowned. What was that supposed to- oh . He burst into laughter. “I didn’t- I wasn’t-” fuck, his lips were loose and tingly, his mouth barely able to form words. “Not- trying to kill myself-” he forced out, and he was pretty sure it was at least somewhat coherent.

Reggie hardly seemed reassured, standing frozen in front of Sirius. Sirius could practically feel panic radiating off of him, and sifted through his mind desperately for the explanation to calm him down.

“It was- er- an animal- thing,” he slurred. “Claw. I- it scratched me.”

Reggie was frozen in place, dead silent, for another few moments. Sirius waited as Reggie stared blankly at his blood-soaked arm. He’d made it this far, he could wait a little more for Reggie to get ahold of himself. That was just Reggie. Sometimes it took him a little longer to process things.

After a couple of seconds, Reggie seemed to snap out of it all of a sudden, shrugging his robe off and grabbing Sirius’s injured arm to yank it toward him.

“Ow,” Sirius whined. Reggie wrapped the arm with his Slytherin robe, hands shaking as he clutched the arm in both of them.

“Okay, we’re- er-” Reggie stammered. “Pomfrey. Pomfrey.”

Reggie pulled Sirius along down the hallway. Sirius stumbled along behind him, relieved to let someone else take over, even if it was his little brother who seemed just as panicked as him.

Time seemed to lurch forward and they were in the hospital wing, Reggie pushing Sirius toward a chair which he practically collapsed into, the room spinning from his movement. Sirius reached for the table in front of him with his good hand, clutching to it for support to keep his head up. Why hadn’t Reggie taken him to a fucking bed?

“Fuck, Reggie,” he slurred. “I might pass out.”

“Please don’t,” came Reggie’s voice from the other side of the room- when had he gotten there?- tight and panicked.

Sirius breathed deeply and tried to focus on not passing out. He didn’t want to upset Reggie any more.

Reggie returned to the table quickly, dumping a bunch of shit on it in a clattering, unpleasant noise that split right through Sirius’s head. He settled down into the chair across from Sirius and reached for Sirius’s arm, placing it on the table between them and unwrapping it with shaky hands. Sirius could hear his little brother’s tight, panicked breathing. “Reggie, I’m okay,” he slurred out in a rather lame attempt to reassure him.

Reggie’s features swam in his vision, still unnaturally pale, eyebrows pinched together. Sirius’s eyes wouldn’t focus long enough to get a good look at him. That wasn’t fair, he thought. He’d seen so little of Reggie these past years. Now he was sitting right in front of him and he didn’t get to see him even now. There was always something keeping them apart.

“-irius. Sirius.”

Sirius looked down at the table, furrowing his brows. Reggie was shoving a vial into his good hand.

“Take this.”

Sirius gripped the vial between weak, shaky fingers. “Trying to poison me, Reggie?”

“It’s for the blood loss, stupid.”

Sirius downed it like a shot, which was admittedly not the best idea, because the movement sent his head spinning. He swallowed the potion and dropped the vial back onto the table, glancing down at his arm, now fully unwrapped. He looked away immediately. The sight made him queasy.

“Still looks pretty bloody to me,” he slurred.

Reggie shoved another vial across the table to him. “Now this one.”

Sirius didn’t even bother to ask what it was. The draught was cold and crisp as it slid down his throat, and a burst of clarity seemed to hit him all at once, the fog in his brain clearing away. Must have been some sort of energy thing, he figured.

He blinked. Reggie came into focus, right across from him, leaning over the table to stare at Sirius’s arm, brows furrowed in concentration as he cleaned it.

“Oh,” Sirius said softly, blinking again. “Hey.”

It was such a relief to see him like this, so close up, when they weren’t arguing or fighting or locked in a dark room together, just existing in the same space the way they used to. He looked just like he did in Sirius’s memories. A little less fat on his cheeks, a darker, more haunted glaze to his eyes, but still his baby brother. It felt almost like fate. He’d been thinking on the walk back about how much he needed to fix things with Reggie, and then all of a sudden, here he was. He couldn’t have asked for better luck.

“What were you doing up at this time?” he asked softly.

Reggie’s gaze shot up, wide-eyed, as if he wasn’t expecting Sirius to speak. He directed his attention back to the wound and was silent for a few seconds before answering the question. “Couldn’t sleep,” he whispered.

He did look tired, Sirius thought. Not the normal tired that comes with walking around the school in the middle of the night, but a more deep-rooted exhaustion from a prolonged lack of sleep. Dark shadows beneath his eyes, a tired slur to his voice, limbs that appeared heavy and lethargic even in their shaky, panicked state.

“Does that happen a lot?” Sirius asked. “You… not sleeping?”

Reggie shrugged wordlessly. He didn’t look up.

Sirius sighed. Back to his typical coldness, then. He watched Reggie’s skinny fingers working at his wound, wiping the blood off, spreading on a dittany. Proof that, through the silent treatment and cold glares, Reggie cared. He loved him enough to help.

Love was a tough thing for Sirius. He felt it, of course, but the word itself sent a strange, prickly feeling through him. Saying it aloud felt wrong, uncomfortable. He did love people- James, Marlene. But he didn’t think he’d ever told them aloud. They knew, he hoped. But he’d never said it.

With Reggie, though, it was different. Every time he saw the kid he wanted to grab him by the shoulders and scream in his face about just how much he fucking loved him. He supposed it was just natural to him. His earliest memories were of Reggie; the day of his birth, and then, fleeting images of a fragile little thing- tiny, even for a baby- curled up on a black blanket, a tiny fist gripped tight around Sirius’s little finger where he hovered above the crib. He couldn’t remember a world where he didn’t love Reggie.

Love that ran that deep couldn’t be burned away like a name from a family tree. It wasn’t a branch, it was a root; lodged deeper into his heart than anything else, the very first thing he’d ever been certain of: that he loved his baby brother. Loving anyone else was a feeling, but loving Reggie was second nature, simple as breathing. He didn’t think about it. He just did it. He supposed that’s why it was easier to talk about.

“Did I ever tell you about the day you were born, Reggie?” he whispered.

“A million times,” Reggie sighed.

Sirius hummed. “Well, it’s been a while. Let me tell it again.”

Reggie was silent, eyes directed down where he was currently spreading the dittany onto Sirius’s gash.

“So, it was Christmas eve, mother and father were at the hospital, and I was staying the night at uncle Alphard’s. Fucking pour one out for that guy. But anyway. I didn’t really get how labor worked so I was just waiting, thinking they were gonna walk through the door with you any second, and he had to sit me down and say we wouldn’t know when you were born until we actually got the owl. So I was like, so impatient. He made me go to bed at like, eight or so, but I remember I couldn’t sleep, I was so excited. I just kept thinking at every moment, like, he could be born now. He or she, I guess. We didn’t know at the time. I fell asleep at some point, but I didn’t really realize- y’know when you wake up, and you’re like, I didn’t even notice I was asleep? Like that sort of thing. So I woke up in the middle of the night, like, 3AM, with this weird feeling in my chest and I just-”

“You just knew.”

Reggie’s eyes shot up to meet his for only a moment before he blushed and hunched his shoulders, directing his eyes back down to Sirus’s arm. “I’ve heard the story a million times,” he said defensively. “And you’re such a liar, by the way.”

Sirius gasped in mock offense. “How am I a liar?”

“There’s no way you remember all that,” Reggie said.

“I do remember it,” Sirius insisted. “It’s my first memory!”

“You were two, Siri.”

“I was three, excuse you!”

“Three, then. Nobody remembers stuff from when they were three years old.”

“Well, I do, so suck it. Not my fault your memory’s shit.”

“But-”

Sirius swatted Reggie on the head playfully. “Let me tell the story, alright, kiddo?”

Reggie wrinkled his nose as a few black curls fell into his face.

“So I woke uncle Alphard up, and he thought I was just being some stupid kid and said we’d only find out when the letter came, and then a letter came, like, a few minutes later. He was totally freaked out. I think he thought I was some little seer or something. So they sent us a letter with your name on it, and- oh!” he snorted. “We thought it was Rej-ulus, like Reginald. It sounded like the dumbest name ever. So I decided to call you Reggie instead. Mother and father came home with you and I was all ‘Reggie-this, Reggie-that’ and they were so confused. Not mad, though. They just laughed. I think that was the happiest I’ve ever seen them, that day.”

Reggie bit his lip. “You never told me that part.”

“What, the name part?”

“No, the- the last thing.”

“Oh. Yeah, they were real happy,” Sirius said. “Mother was smiling and everything. Although- well, she was probably pretty relieved that she was done being pregnant. She was so scared you’d be a girl, cause then she’d have to go through the whole thing again until she got a spare…”

“Wow,” Reggie deadpanned. “Doesn’t that just warm my heart.”

“I think- she was probably smiling at you, too, though,” Sirius said quickly. “You were impossible not to smile at, Reggie. You were the cutest fucking baby ever. I was so happy. Well, everyone was, but me especially. You were the best thing that ever happened to me.”

Reggie stilled, staring down at Sirius’s arm.

“Really, you were. You were. I know you don’t like hearing it, but I l-”

“Stop,” Reggie shook his head frantically, gaze still ducked down toward the table. “Stop. Sirius, please stop.”

“Why?”

“Because it’s- it’s mean. I don’t like it. Just stop. Please.”

Sirius shut his eyes and breathed. A few months ago, he would have lost his temper by now. But he couldn’t this time. Yelling was only going to push him away. “Listen, Reggie. I’m sorry that me caring about you is such a horrible experience for you but I- I honestly don’t give a fuck, Reggie. I love you. Nothing you do is gonna change that, so stop fucking trying. I love you. I don’t even care if you say it back. I just need to make sure you know.”

For a few agonizing moments, he was silent. Sirius felt raw, flayed open, like he’d just ripped his heart out and handed it to Reggie on a platter.

Reggie glanced back down at the table and shrugged minutely.

Frustration flared up in Sirius’s chest. He pushed it down. “Nothing to say?” he asked softly.

“What do you want me to say?” Reggie asked.

“I mean, fuck, Reggie,” Sirius sighed. “I want you to say you love me back, honestly. I mean, I’ve told you I love you how many times now, and you-”

“Well, I don’t believe you!” Reggie snapped. “I don’t believe you, okay? So just stop!”

Sirius blinked. “You don’t believe me?”

Reggie shrugged.

“You really don’t believe I love you, after fucking everything?” Sirius said incredulously. “All we’ve done together? I know it was hell, okay, but there were some good times, too. We had good times together, the two of us. I know you remember all that, too. I mean, those are my best fucking memories, and you just- that just means nothing to you?”

“It was everything to me,” Reggie whispered. “You were everything to me. You were all I had. I thought we were all each other had. And then you went to Hogwarts and suddenly you had all these new friends and you didn’t even need me anymore. I had nobody.” He sniffled, swiping aggressively at his eyes. “You told me you loved me then, too, remember? You pinky promised you wouldn’t forget and then you did. So why should I believe anything you say now?”

“Reggie,” Sirius sighed. “I’m just- I’m so sorry, okay? I’m so sorry. I didn’t- I was just a kid, Reggie. I was a fucking kid. I’d never had friends before and I was so excited to just be out of the house and I- I left you behind, I know that. I know it hurt you, and I’m sorry. But I never stopped loving you, okay? Never for a single moment.”

Reggie stared down at the table, eyes glazed and far away. “It was the worst year of my life,” he whispered. “After you left- it was so- I was so scared all the time and all I wanted was for you to come home and when you finally did all you could talk about was how much you wanted to go back. And all your new friends. And I just wondered if you ever even loved me at all. Or if I was just a placeholder until you could find real friends.”

“No, no, no,” Sirius said frantically. “No. Reggie, I just… you remember what they fucking did to me in that house. What was I supposed to do? I never wanted to hurt you but, I mean, why the fuck would I want to go back there? And then you got sorted into Slytherin and I just… I thought you were siding with them. I gave up, and it was stupid, and I shouldn’t have, and I fucking regret it, okay? But I thought I’d lost you.” His throat was tightening, his voice growing shaky. He took a deep breath, trying to hold it back. “Fuck, Reggie, I almost died earlier tonight. And I just- I kept thinking of you, the whole time I was walking back, and how much I regretted everything that happened between us, and I just- I want you back in my life, Reggie. I want to see you grow up. I wanna be brothers again.”

Reggie stared firmly down at the table, his eyes rimmed red. “And then you left again,” he said weakly. “Over the summer.”

Sirius sighed. He’d known they were going to get back around to this. “Listen, Reggie. You can’t blame me for that, okay? I’m sorry that you’re all alone there, but you remember what happened that day. You were right there. She’d have killed me if I stayed in that house any longer, I know it. I had to leave. Please just- please don’t make me hate myself for that, okay? I had to do it.”

Reggie raised a hand to his mouth to chew on his thumbnail, his chin quivering.

“I mean, fuck, Reggie. I tried, didn’t I?” Sirius said. “I fucking begged you to come. I was half fucking dead and I still got up and asked you to come and you didn’t even fucking answer me. You were too busy fucking- lost in your head or whatever. I tried so fucking hard. And you just- you hardly even looked at me. I thought you didn’t care. You have no idea how much it fucking killed me to leave you there.”

Reggie exhaled shakily, staring down at the table.

“I just- why? I mean, you chose them, Reggie. You say you hate it there, but you chose them over me.” Sirius’s voice cracked slightly as he shook his head. The wound still felt as open and raw as it had on that day, the realization that Reggie loved his parents more than Sirius. That he’d rather stay with people who hurt him than go with his brother. “Why? Just tell me, okay? Why?”

Reggie shrunk in on himself, shoulders slumping, pulling his hand away from his mouth to wrap his arms protectively around his chest. He looked small and vulnerable without the protection of his robe, just a threadbare black t-shirt and skinny white arms. The skin around his right thumbnail was shredded into pieces, bloody and scabbed over, nail bitten right to the quick.

“You’re wrong,” he whispered. Everything was quivering, his hands, his chin, his voice.

Sirius leaned in close, trying to look as nonthreatening as possible. “About what, Reggie?” he asked softly.

“I… I don’t remember it.”

Sirius blinked. “You- what?”

“It’s like you said. I was there but I wasn’t- I wasn’t really there,” Regulus whispered shakily. He glanced up to look at Sirius with red-rimmed eyes. “Sirius. Sometimes when I- Sometimes I just go away inside and- and everything just disappears and I don’t remember anything. But it just happens out of nowhere. I can’t control it. I don’t- I don’t think I was there when all that happened. I don’t know. One minute you were at home and then you just weren’t. Everything’s- it all blurs together. I can’t- I think I’m messed up.” He shook his head, chest hitching, voice going all high and tight the way it did when he was about to cry. “My brain is- it’s all wrong. It doesn’t work right.” He ducked his head down, reaching a hand up to bite at his thumbnail again.

Sirius reached out to grab his arm before he could. Reggie’s head shot up to look at him, eyes wide and bloodshot, filling with tears. His chin quivered.

Pure comforting instinct took over as Sirius squeezed his arm reassuringly, whispering, “No, no, no. It’s okay, Reggie. That’s not- you’re not messed up. That’s- everyone forgets stuff sometimes.”

“But it’s not just forgetting,” Reggie said. “It’s like it never even happened. Like I’m- blocking it out.”

“That’s- no, it’s okay,” Sirius said quickly, pushing down his own bout of panic. “It’s okay. That’s normal. You’re not messed up. It’s normal.”

None of it was normal, Sirius thought. Pieces were falling into place, though- that constant empty glaze on his eyes, the way he would zone out and go quiet for a few seconds at a time before seeming to snap back into reality, the way he’d seemed on the night Sirius left, in a silent, empty-eyed daze. He’d always thought Reggie’s whole going away thing was voluntary, but it hitting him at random moments certainly explained a lot. It was far from normal, though. Reggie was right. There was definitely something going wrong in his brain if he was coming in and out of reality at random moments.

But what was he supposed to say? Scaring him wasn’t going to do any good.

“It’s okay, Reggie,” Sirius said again. “Don’t be upset, okay? It’s nothing to worry about. Who’s the top of your class, huh?”

Reggie sniffled, looking up at Sirius through furrowed brows. “Huh?”

“Who’s the top of your class?”

Reggie’s chest puffed out, his shoulders regaining just the slightest bit of confidence as he said, “Me.”

“Yeah, you,” Sirius said. “How could your brain be messed up? You’re, like, the smartest fucking kid at this school. I mean, come on.”

Reggie shook his head, ducking down to face the table.

“Really,” Sirius said. “You really are. Like, listen, kiddo- you…” he turned briefly to ensure they were alone in the room, lowering his voice. “You figured out I liked blokes before I even knew. You’re literally the only other person in the whole world who knows. Like, that’s crazy. If you even knew how many girls I’d-”

“Gross, Sirius,” Reggie groaned.

“Okay, okay,” Sirius said. “I’m just saying, like, you figured me out before I even figured myself out. No messed up brain is gonna do that.”

Reggie looked up and cracked a small, shaky smile, dimples appearing on his cheeks. His eyes were still wary, as if they didn’t quite believe him, but the smile was more than enough for Sirius.

Despite it all, there was a small spark of hope that came with the knowledge that Reggie hadn’t actively ignored Sirius’s offer to leave. Maybe there was still a chance.

“So…” Sirius began. “The day I left… the whole day, just a huge blank spot? You don’t remember any of it?”

Reggie shrugged, his demeanor stiffening again. “It’s not like that. I remember pieces. You and maman were yelling at each other, I remember that. That’s where it blanks out. When the yelling starts, that’s my cue to just… slip away.”

“What does it feel like?”

“What, going away?” Reggie asked.

Sirius nodded.

“Well, I guess it’s sort of like…” Reggie shrugged. “It depends, I guess. Sometimes it’s just a huge blank spot. Time just skips ahead and I lose everything. But sometimes it’s more like… like drowning. Like, I’m sinking, and I can see myself and everything happening at the surface, but I can’t get to it. It’s all muted.” He paused. “That’s how it started, when you used to get punished and stuff, I’d just go away like that. It’s nice. Peaceful. The blank spots only started later. They don’t- I don’t try with them. They just happen out of nowhere. Like the day that… y’know.”

Merlin, as messed up as it sounded, Sirius was almost jealous. He wished he could skip over everything that had happened the way that Reggie could. Maybe then he wouldn’t have to keep thinking about it. “She, er… she cast crucio. On that day,” he said. “For kind of a long time. That’s why I left.”

“Well, I figured that much,” Reggie said flippantly.

Sirius blinked. “You figured?”

“Well, it had to be bad enough to make you leave, right?”

Smiling, Sirius shook his head. It was something of a relief to talk to Reggie about this sort of thing. He was used to fearing some horrified, freak-out reaction to those sorts of details from the Black household, but Reggie got it. He grew up with it. It was normal for him.

“Yeah,” Sirius said. He paused awkwardly. “Do you remember what happened after I left? They didn’t- they didn’t turn on you, did they?”

“I just remember you two were screaming at each other and then when I came back everything was quiet. I was standing in the living room and no one was there. There was…” his voice shook slightly, his eyes glazed over as if he was back there. “There was blood on the floor.”

The memory of that day loomed over Sirius’s mind, the sharp twinges in his limbs, the way he’d coughed, the way the blood had spurted from his mouth onto the hardwood. He pushed it away. “Then what?” he asked weakly.

“I went upstairs to figure out what happened,” Reggie said. “And maman was in your room. And you weren’t. So I knew something bad happened. I was- I was really scared. I thought- with the blood, and everyone acting all weird, I thought maybe…” he trailed off.

He thought I was dead, Sirius’s mind supplied. He felt sick.

“But anyway,” Reggie said. “When she saw me standing there, she started yelling at me and that part was sort of blocked out, too. So then I went and found papa. He was drinking in his study. He was crying. That sort of freaked me out, too. He made me sit with him. He talked a lot.”

Sirius frowned. Once, it had made Sirius jealous to think that Reggie, the favorite child, got all sorts of personal, one-on-one talks with their parents. Now, it just made him angry. No parent should be saddling their kid with all their fucking problems. “About what?”

“Er- he kept asking me if he was a good father. Like, over and over, he just kept asking that.”

A wave of anger hit Sirius at the idea of his father asking the kid he’d nearly fucking killed before about his parenting skills. “Merlin’s fucking sake,” he groaned. “The fucking audacity. I would’ve smashed that fucking drink over his head.”

“I know you would’ve, Siri,” Reggie sighed.

“So, what did you say?”

Reggie shrugged. “Yes.”

Perhaps it was the knowledge of just how wildly different they were- that Sirius would’ve started a fight over the comment whereas Reggie’s only reaction was to reassure their father- or just the pure ridiculousness of the idea of him being a good father, but Sirius clapped a hand over his mouth and snorted. Reggie, luckily, broke into a toothy, dimpled grin, ducking his head down toward the table with a giggle.

“Of course you said that,” Sirius choked through laughter.

Reggie wiped at his eyes, shaking his head. “He did say something else, though,” he said, his tone sobering. “It sort of scared me.”

Sirius composed himself, nodding. “Tell me.”

Reggie bit his lip. He was silent for a long moment. Sirius sat patiently, resisting the urge to cut in and tell him to get on with it.

Finally, Reggie breathed deeply and looked back up at Sirius. “He said that when he was a kid his dad was really mean to him and he always promised he’d never raise his kids in that sort of house. He’d never treat his own kids the way his dad treated him.”

Sirius felt like the air had been punched out of his lungs.

“Oh.”

“Yeah.”

It was no surprise, really. Their paternal grandfather had always been a cruel man, much crueler than mother’s father. But it was still rather jarring to hear. How could someone possibly be treated that way and then turn around and inflict it on someone else? Sure, their mother was usually the one pointing the wand, but father wasn’t innocent by any means. Even setting aside the drunkenness and occasional slaps and hits, he still allowed their mother to do everything else she did. Did he truly not see how horrible she was? How much Sirius and Reggie suffered because of them?

“Fuck,” Sirius said.

“Yeah.”

“So what did you say?”

“I- I don’t really know,” Reggie said. “It really scared me. Everything gets blurry afterwards. I was thinking too much, y’know? I guess I just realized…”

“Realized what?”

“That I was talking to myself.”

Sirius frowned. “What?”

“That’ll be me one day. I’m just like him. When I grow up, I’ll be just like him.”

The comment caught Sirius off guard. Reggie, like father? The idea was so ridiculous, Sirius would’ve laughed if Reggie didn’t sound so damn upset. “What? I- no!” he cried. “No, Reggie. No. Never. You’re nothing like him, Reggie, nothing!”

Reggie sniffed, shaking his head. He refused to meet Sirius’s gaze.

“Reggie, listen to me, okay? You’re nothing like him. You’re fucking- you’re strong. You’re tough. He’s a weak fucking drunk. He’s pathetic. Maman’s right about him.”

Reggie looked up to meet Sirius’s eyes. “What, and I’m not? You’re always saying that, Siri. You’re always calling me weak, I can’t handle punishments like you- I can’t stand up for myself like you- I’m- I’m a weak pussy, remember? That’s what you said. That’s what you called me.”

“Fuck, I- Reggie,” Sirius said. Reggie had always seemed so unbothered by his insults, never fighting back or seeming to take offense, and Sirius had never really considered that he would internalize them like that. He thought they just slid right off his shoulders. “I didn’t mean that. Any of it. I was just mad, okay? I don’t understand you and it makes me mad but I didn’t mean that.”

Reggie shook his head. “You were right, though.” His face was blotchy, tears gathering on his soft black lashes. “I’m not like you, Sirius, I’m not… I’m not brave or strong or-”

“Yes, you are,” Sirius cried. He grabbed Reggie’s face in a fit of desperation, cupping his cheeks, forcing him to meet his gaze. “You are brave, okay? You are. Do you think anyone else our age could handle that fucking house? Fuck no. I mean, fuck, Reggie, do you think anyone else our age could handle being fucking crucio’d? Fuck no! Look at what the fuck you’ve been through, Reggie- we’ve been through- we’re tough, the both of us. You’ve gotta be the toughest fifteen-year-old on the fucking planet.”

Reggie stared at him, tears gathering in his eyes and spilling over down his cheeks. Sirius thumbed them away gently, his throat tightening. His own vision was beginning to blur, but he tried to hold it back for Reggie’s sake, forcing his eyes to stay open, locked in Reggie’s tearful gaze. For a long moment, Reggie was silent, silver eyes sad and thoughtful.

“So you’ll be like her, then,” he whispered.

Sirius blanched, furrowing his brow in confusion. “I- what?”

“I’ll be like papa, and you’ll be like maman. When we grow up.”

“I-” Sirius pulled his hands off of Reggie’s face abruptly, the mere suggestion sending a wash of cold dread down his body. “I will never be like her,” he spat. “Never!”

“Sure sounded like her a second ago,” Reggie said.

“What, when I was calling you brave? How the fuck did that sound like her?”

“You said it made me brave. You said living there made us brave and tough because no one else our age could go through that. So, you’re glad it happened. That’s what you’re saying.” His voice was still tight, though it had taken on a bit more confidence and volume. “And that’s why she did it, remember? She said her kids would never turn out to be little weaklings like her brothers. So, this is exactly what she wanted. You oughta be thanking her.”

“I- what? No,” Sirius cried. He grabbed a fistful of his hair, shaking his head. “That’s not- I didn’t mean- you’re twisting my words!”

“Okay, so what did you mean?”

“That we’re brave! And strong!”

“And why are we brave and strong?”

“I don’t- fuck,” Sirius said.

Sirius had never doubted his strength. He was perfectly aware of the public’s perception of him. He was cool and popular and well-liked, but even so, he knew that some would look at him- the handsome face, the confident demeanor, the cool outfits and reputation for his sexual escapades- and see someone rather shallow. Some people, he supposed, thought that just because someone was loud and liked to have fun it meant that they didn’t know what it was to struggle.

None of that bothered him, though. Because he could look at those people and ask himself, what does it matter what they think? They had no idea what he’d been through. They had no fucking idea what real suffering is. There was a certain confidence that came with looking someone right in the eye and knowing that they could never survive what he’s survived.

It felt like such an essential part of him. It gave him confidence. But he’d never really thought… he’d never thought of it in that way before.

“Oh, fuck,” Sirius breathed. “Fuck. Fuck. But- but I hate her. I hate her. You don’t think- you think she made me strong?”

“Well, you wouldn’t be like this if she hadn’t done everything, would you?”

This is for you, Sirius. It’ll make you stronger. I wish my father had done this to me.

Fuck, he’d even been thinking of it the whole walk back to Hogwarts, just kept telling himself that he’d had worse. That if he could get through sixteen years in that house he could get through anything.

Squeezing his eyes shut, he breathed deeply, chest tight. He always promised himself that if he ever saw his mother again, he’d completely unload on her, tell her every little thing he’d held back before, make sure she knows just how much he fucking hates her. Hit her, maybe. He’d never really gotten proper closure with her, too fucked up on the day he left to tell her everything he wanted to say. She needed to know how much he hated her.

But how could he hate someone who made him strong? Should he just be grateful?

He thought back on the past couple of weeks of pure misery. Sleepless nights, nightmares. Fuck, his entire life, really. Bad memories haunting him at every turn. Maybe he was strong, but was it worth all of that bullshit?

Were seventeen-year-olds really supposed to be strong enough to deal with crucios?

Reggie grabbed Sirius’s arm and placed it gently back on the table between them, grabbing a needle and thread, drawing Sirius’s attention back to him. Fuck, did he really need stitches? Sirius thought absently. He’d put the dittany on.

“At least you got something out of it,” Reggie said softly, threading the needle. “At least it actually worked for you. For me… it didn’t make me strong, I don’t think. Not like you. It just made me all flimsy and messed up.” He sighed. “Like, maybe for you, every bad thing that happens is just something you can handle, but for me, it’s like- it’s like every bad thing that ever happens to me is just adding one more thing to the pile. And… and it never gets easier. No matter how many times something happens, I’m always scared. As scared as I was the first time.”

Sirius watched as Reggie brought the needle and thread down to his arm. It took a certain sort of courage, he thought, to admit to fear as honestly and easily as he just had.

“I am scared, Reggie,” Sirius said softly. “I’m scared all the time, okay? All the time. It’s okay to be scared.”

Reggie bit his lip, glancing up at Sirius briefly. “But… you always seem so… nothing ever bothered you. You’d bring it on yourself.”

“I was always scared, Reggie,” Sirius said. “I was just… loud. And stubborn. It felt like revenge, y’know, making her mad. But I…” he paused. “I never really thought of what it would do to you. Y’know, to hear us fighting and screaming at each other all the time. I’m sorry. It must have been scary.”

Reggie held his gaze for a few moments, eyes still rimmed red, before his hand resumed stitching. “I’m sorry, too,” he whispered. “I know you took a lot of shit for me over the years.” He paused. “And I’m sorry for saying you’ll be like maman. I wasn’t trying to freak you out, I just… you do remind me of her a lot. I wish you didn’t.”

Sirius absently watched Reggie’s face as he stitched, eyebrows furrowed in concentration, the little dimple appearing between them.. He really did resemble their mother. Funny, he thought, that the people he hated and loved most in the world had nearly the exact same face. He wondered if Reggie ever looked at him and saw their father. He wondered if Reggie looked in the mirror and saw their mother.

“So, er- what happened over winter holiday?”

Reggie froze, glancing up at Sirius, wide-eyed.

“Come on, Reggie,” Sirius said. “Just tell me. You came back all fucked up. She cast crucio, didn’t she?”

Reggie resumed stitching. “Yeah.”

“Fuck, Reggie,” Sirius whispered. He’d pretty much already known, but the thought still made his heart sink. Mother was always easier on Reggie. He’d hoped she wouldn’t be too awful once Sirius was gone. “Why? What happened?”

“Kreacher dropped a glass,” Reggie said, his voice blank and empty, as if he’d detached himself from the memory.

“So why didn’t she punish Kreacher?”

“She did.”

Sirius huffed in frustration. “Okay, so why the fuck did you get crucio’d?”

“I told her to stop,” Reggie said. “ And she said- she said that I should only step in if I was willing to take it myself. So…” he sighed. “So- yeah,” he finished lamely. Sirius could fill in the rest of the details himself.

“So, you’re telling me,” he said incredulously. “You let yourself get tortured for some vile fucking-”

“Stop it!” Reggie cried, dropping the needle to look up at Sirius. “He’s my friend, okay? My only friend in that whole house!”

“I- ugh,” Sirius groaned. Resentment still seeped through Reggie’s tone. My only friend. Because you left , went unspoken, but they were both thinking it. “Okay,” he said, nodding. “Alright. It’s okay. Thanks for telling me.” He sighed. “When was this?”

“Christmas eve.”

The words hit Sirius harder than they should’ve.

“Christmas eve,” he said, a hysterical laugh bursting from his throat. “Christmas eve. You spent your fifteenth fucking birthday recovering from it?”

Reggie shrugged.

Fuck, he’d had a terrible feeling that Christmas eve. He’d hardly been able to drag himself out of bed. It was like he’d known something was off. He always knew, with Reggie.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered.

Reggie ignored him, lifting a hand to wipe at his eyes. Sirius watched him numbly. Reggie was right. Sirius had known what he was doing, leaving him there. He’d known something like this would happen and he’d left anyway. He may be the worst big brother ever.

He knew what James would say right now. He’d say that Sirius was right to leave a situation where he was getting hurt, and whatever his parents did afterwards wasn’t Sirius’s fault. But it was bullshit. Maybe it wasn’t his fault- he hadn’t cast the crucio himself- but he knew it would happen eventually. That made it, at the very least, his problem.

“Reggie,” he whispered. Reggie ignored him, his head still ducked down, sniffling. “Reggie, listen-”

“I don’t wanna talk about it anymore, okay?” Reggie said, looking up to meet his gaze. “It’s just- I’m- now you know, alright? Now you know.” He huffed, scrubbing at his eyes and leaning back in his chair with an air of finality. “And I’m done, by the way. You’re not dying anymore, so… you’re welcome.”

Sirius sighed. He supposed Reggie wasn’t going to get any further into it tonight. He directed his gaze down to his arm to inspect the damage, preparing himself for a jagged, ugly scar. Instead, he found himself letting out a ridiculously delighted, “Oh!”

It was the sleeve, not his arm, which had caught his attention. The jumper had been neatly stitched back together, just as if nothing had ever happened.

He looked up at Reggie, who looked startled by Sirius’s overblown reaction.

“You fixed the jumper,” Sirius said, his tone bordering on disbelief.

“Er- yeah?” Reggie said, raising his eyebrows in confusion. “Did you… not want me to or something?”

“No, no, I did want you to, I just didn’t expect…”

Sirius couldn't fight back the smile that tugged at his lips as he ran his finger gently over the knit fabric. Fixing Sirius’s arm was nice, yes, but all it meant was that Reggie didn’t want him to die. But fixing the jumper was just so… sweet. It wouldn’t save Sirius’s life, or help his pain. It would only make him happy. An act of pure, unnecessary kindness.

Sirius stared at Reggie- sitting in front of him with his brows knit in confusion- and he saw, suddenly, the baby brother he’d been missing for so long: the one who followed him around everywhere and looked at him like he was a hero, who squeezed his hand under the dinner table when their parents got angry, who gave him a star-shaped necklace for Christmas. The one who looked up to Sirius, practically worshipped the ground that he walked on, loved him more than anything in the world.

“Thank you,” he said, his voice embarrassingly tight.

Reggie blushed furiously, seeming overwhelmed and uncomfortable by Sirius’s emotion.

Sirius cleared his throat. “When did you learn how to sew?”

“Just by watching Kreacher,” Reggie said pointedly. “See, he is useful sometimes.”

Sirius hummed dismissively and directed his gaze back down to his arm, rolling up the sleeve gently to inspect the wound. The dittany had closed it up quite nicely, but it still left a rather large, jagged scar stretching down the inside of his forearm.

“Dammit,” he muttered. “Now everyone I sleep with is gonna think I tried to fucking kill myself.”

Reggie let out an undignified little snort. The sound made Sirius grin.

“Well, maybe you shouldn’t go and get yourself attacked by monsters or whatever it was that happened,” Reggie said.

“It wasn’t a monster,” Sirius said defensively. “It was just, like… an animal. I think it was nice,” he said, remembering sad brown eyes and a jaw frozen in the air around his arm. “It didn’t bite me.”

“Well, yes. Aside from scratching all your veins open and leaving you to bleed to death, sounds very nice.”

Sirius swatted at his head gently. “Shut up,” he chirped as Reggie batted his hands away, smiling.

Reggie was the first to get up, directing his attention back to the table and gathering together the clump of bloody rags he’d used to clean the wound. Sirius stood up with him, picking up the container of dittany and handing it off to Reggie after he’d thrown out the rags. A couple of vials of some draught still sat on the table, untouched. Sirius picked one up, frowning at it, while Reggie returned the dittany to its drawer.

“Dreamless sleep?” Sirius asked.

Reggie rushed over and snatched the vial out of his hand. “It’s for me, not you,” he huffed, picking the rest up from the table and sticking them into the pocket of his sweatpants.

“Stealing potions from Madame Pomfrey, are we?” Sirius teased. “Why so many?”

“Shut up,” Reggie mumbled. “I can’t sleep without them, okay?”

Sirius frowned in concern. He would become dependent , Madame Pomfrey had said. Suddenly, the word worried him. Was Reggie planning on just having dreamless sleep every night for the rest of his life? That couldn’t be healthy.

“Don’t you think that’s kind of an… external solution?”

Reggie stared at him blankly. “A what?”

“Y’know, an external solution,” Sirius said. “For an internal problem. You can’t sleep, that’s an internal problem. You need an internal solution.”

Reggie gave him a strange look and picked the needle and thread up from the table, shaking his head dismissively as if Sirius were speaking some sort of gibberish. He headed back across the room to the cabinets.

Sirius sighed. He’d have to explain to Reggie some other time. He didn’t seem in the mood to listen.

He glanced back down at the wound, poking at the raw, jagged skin. Merlin, was he not going to be able to wear short sleeves anymore? “Hey, it doesn’t look that suicide-y, does it?” He asked. “I really don’t want anyone to think I’m one of those like, blow-your-brains-out crazies.”

Reggie shrugged, his back still to Sirius as he put the needle and thread back into the cabinet. “It’s not that crazy. Haven’t you ever…” he trailed off.

Sirius frowned. “Ever what?” he prodded.

Reggie turned and bit his lip, staring at the floor for a moment, scuffing at the hardwood with his shoe. “I just mean…” He began hesitantly, before cutting himself off. He glanced up at Sirius with uncertain eyes, chewing on his thumbnail. He still stood by the cabinet, a few meters away from Sirius, the distance acting as some sort of safety buffer between them. “Have you ever… have you ever, y’know… thought about it?”

Sirius raised an eyebrow. “Thought about…?”

“Y’know. It .”

Reggie glanced up to briefly meet Sirius’s eyes and gestured with his head down at Sirius’s arm. It took a moment for it to process with Sirius.

Oh.

Of fucking course he’d thought about it. He’d never do it, especially not after everything that had happened tonight, but… he’d thought about it. Hadn’t everyone, some time or another?

Reggie was awaiting his response nervously, still chewing his thumbnail, shoulders tensed up by his ears.

“Fuck no,” Sirius said.

Reggie nodded, eyes still swimming with tense uncertainty, like the answer hadn’t quite satisfied him.

“What, have you?” Sirius asked.

Biting his nail, Reggie met Sirius’s gaze. He answered just a beat too late. “No.”

“Good,” Sirius said. “Good, good.”

There was a beat of silence in which they both just nodded awkwardly.

“Don’t wanna be like crazy grandma,” Sirius said quickly.

“She wasn’t crazy,” Reggie said defensively, crossing his arms with a frown.

Sirius hummed skeptically. “I mean, you’re the one who thinks she threw herself into a lake and drowned…”

“She was just trying to get away from grandfather. That doesn’t make her crazy.”

“If she wanted to get away, she could’ve just left,” Sirius said. “Or killed him. She didn’t have to drown herself in a fucking lake.”

“Sometimes it’s not that simple,” Reggie said. “She was miserable. He was crazy. That’s all Blacks, I suppose. Either miserable or crazy. Or both.”

Sirius frowned, mentally going through their family tree. Mother, crazy. Father, miserable. Bellatrix, crazy. Cissa, miserable. It was difficult to argue with Reggie’s point.

“I think there’s something in our blood,” Reggie said. “It’s like- like one of those trees with a disease, y’know? It’s all rotted on the inside and it spreads through all the branches and infects the whole tree. That’s us. There’s just something in our blood that’s wrong. Don’t you think?”

“Probably the incest,” Sirius said solemnly.

Reggie met his gaze, lips twitching. They broke out into identical smiles. It was funny because it was true. Sirius was rather relieved, honestly, to hear Reggie say it too. To know that he wasn’t the only one who thought about these things. James and Remus just didn’t understand the way Reggie did.

He’d missed this so badly. He’d forgotten what it was to talk to someone who really got it.

“So… what now?” he asked.

Reggie shrugged silently, still leaning by the cabinet.

“Come on, Reggie,” Sirius said. “We can’t go back to ignoring each other. We can’t. I mean, didn’t you- wasn’t it nice? To talk to me?”

Reggie sucked in a deep breath, staring at the floor. He shrugged again.

Not a yes, but not a definitive no either. Sirius could work with that. He took a step closer.

“You can’t talk about this shit with your other friends, can you?” he asked. “I mean, we get each other. That’s special, okay? Not a lot of people have that. So let’s-” he reached out to grab Reggie’s arm, keeping his grip light. “Let’s just try to be brothers again, okay? We can just try.”

Reggie was silent for a long while, eyes still trained on the floor. When he finally did look up at Sirius, his expression was one of grim resignation. It made Sirius’s heart sink in disappointment.

“Too little, too late, Sirius,” Reggie said. “Too little, too late.”

“No,” Sirius said desperately, tightening his grip on Reggie’s arm. “No, it’s not too late. Come on. We’re still kids. We’re still brothers.”

“We stopped being brothers a long time ago, I think,” Reggie whispered.

“We never did, Reggie,” Sirius said. “We never did. We- I-” He gestured wildly toward his chest. “Hey, I’m still wearing it, right? I never took it off. Never.”

Reggie glanced up at Sirius, brows furrowed. “Huh?”

“The necklace you gave me. I never took it off, never have.”

The words were met with a blank, bewildered stare. “What necklace? The star one you’re always wearing, you mean?”

“Yeah,” Sirius said.

Reggie’s eyes flickered down to the star pendant around his neck. “I… I gave you that?”

“I-” Sirius sputtered, the realization hitting him like a crushing weight. “You don’t remember?”

Reggie shook his head silently.

“Oh,” Sirius choked out.

Of course he didn’t remember. He was so young at the time, why would Sirius even think he’d remember? He’d been wearing the thing this whole time, thinking that every time Reggie saw it he’d be reminded of how Sirius never forgot about him, even when they were fighting or ignoring each other. But it meant nothing to Reggie. He didn’t even remember giving it to him.

Reggie stared up at him, wide-eyed and lost, looking up at Sirius, every bit the little kid he’d been that night when he gave it to him. Sirius stepped closer, placing a hand on the side of his arm.

“Christmas eve, when we were kids,” he said softly. “We were staying at uncle Alphard’s. You remember that Christmas?”

Reggie frowned at the floor, eyes glazing over as if sifting through his memories. “...maybe,” he whispered.

“That’s okay,” Sirius said. “You were really little. I don’t- I was stupid for thinking you’d remember. It was Christmas eve. We went out and played in the snow and then we came back in and you gave it to me as a present. You insisted on giving it to me on Christmas eve, because Christmas was your birthday. You remember that?”

“I…” Reggie’s eyes were still glazed and wistful, lost in his memory. “One Christmas… I think… I guess I thought it was a dream, but… I remember falling asleep and… I think you had your hand in my hair.”

Sirius’s throat tightened. “Yeah,” he forced out, his eyes blurring with tears. He refused to let them fall. Not in front of Reggie. “Yeah, that’s the one, Reggie. You gave it to me and I promised you I’d never take it off,” he said.

Reggie looked up at him, eyes wide, almost hopeful. “You mean… this whole time you’ve been wearing that thing… it was from me?”

“Yeah, Reggie,” Sirius said. “I’ve never taken it off, alright? Never.”

Reggie’s gaze darted between Sirius’s face and the necklace. “Really, never?” he whispered, as if he didn’t quite believe him.

“Never,” Sirius said.

“Even after I got sorted into Slytherin?”

“Yeah.”

“Even after you left?”

“Yeah.”

“Even after we fought?”

“What part of never do you not understand?” Sirius joked gently, squeezing his arm.

Reggie’s chin began to shake, mouth pressed into a thin line as he looked up at Sirius with red rimmed eyes.

Shit.

“Hey, Reggie…” Sirius whispered, wracking his brain for something comforting to say. “I- it’s okay, petit frere …”

Before he could even force anything else out, something in Reggie’s expression seemed to shatter and he threw his hands up to cover his face, ducking his head down, his shoulders quivering.

Sirius stopped thinking and let pure instinct take over. He stepped forward and pulled Reggie into his arms.

Reggie didn’t hug back, but he didn’t shrink away either. He leaned into Sirius’s chest, hands still planted firmly against his face as he sniffled and breathed shakily, pressed against Remus’s jumper. Sirius’s hand lingered on the back of his head, gently running his fingers through his curls the way he used to. He couldn’t even remember the last time they’d been this close. Since before Hogwarts, probably. Reggie would never let just anyone hug him, fuck, he’d probably never even hugged his friends before. It felt like a definitive action, letting Sirius back in. And Sirius was never going to let him go again.

“Reggie,” he whispered.

Sirius needed to look at him. He’d seen so little of his brother lately. When his breathing seemed to have calmed down, he pulled back from the embrace and bent down slightly so he was at eye level with Reggie, gently peeling his hands away from his face.

His skin was blotchy and swollen from crying, nose and eyes bright red, dark eyelashes all clumped together. His lips quivered as if holding back sobs. He looked just like he had when he was a little kid. Still so soft and sensitive. He cupped his face and ran his thumbs over his sticky cheeks, catching tears before they could fall.

Selfish as it sounded, it was almost relieving to see how badly Reggie needed him. Comforting Reggie was a comfort in and of itself. He’d been doing it his whole life, and a few years without practice had done nothing to rid him of the instinct.

“Reggie,” he whispered again, tightening his grip on his face so he knew Reggie was really listening. “Come and live with me.”

Reggie didn’t even bother to mask his shock at the question. His mouth fell open, eyebrows drawing together. “What?” he breathed.

“We need to get you out of there, okay? I’m not letting you spend another second in that house. Come and live with me. Come live at the Potter’s. They’ll be happy to have you.”

At just the name Potter , some part of Reggie seemed to close off, his gaze hardening, shoulders stiffening.

“Or- no, no,” Sirius backtracked. “I know you don’t like James. That’s okay. We’ll figure something else out. Uncle Alphard, he left me a bunch of money. A whole bunch. I’ll get us a flat. Wherever you want. We can live together, just the two of us. Remember the good times? We had good times, right? We can have more of them, Reggie, I promise. Wouldn’t you- wouldn’t you like that?”

The tears were falling steadily now, gathering on Sirius’s thumbs and soaking them quicker than he could brush them away. “I would like that, Siri,” Reggie rasped, and it should’ve felt good to hear him say it, but it was all wrong. Sirius could see it in his eyes, hear it in the hesitancy of his voice.

“Okay, so do it,” Sirius said desperately. “You’d like it, so let’s do it. I’m not joking, Reggie. We can do it. We really could. You just have to come with me, okay?”

Reggie’s jaw trembled in Sirius’s hands. His eyes looked so sad, so tired. “You know I can’t, Siri,” he whispered. “She’ll come after us.”

“I’ll kill her.”

Reggie shook his head frantically, his gaze darting about. “I can’t, Sirius. I can’t. I just can’t.”

Sirius tightened his grip, gently redirecting Reggie’s head to face him again. “Why not?” He asked. “I just- I don’t understand, why the fuck would you stay there? Fucking why? Please, Reggie. Make me understand.”

“I don’t- I don’t know,” Reggie said. His voice was so small, barely audible, completely wrecked by tears. “I’m just- I just don’t have the energy.”

“For what?”

“For anything,” Reggie said. “I can’t leave. I can’t- I can’t even move. I’m so tired. I just can’t.”

Sirius knew tiredness. He knew bone-deep fucking exhaustion, the type that slowed down every part of your body, spread to infect every aspect of your life. But he still, for the life of him, just couldn’t understand.

Just leave , he wanted to say. I don’t care if you’re tired. I was dying from a fucking crucio and I still got up and left. If I can, you can. Just fucking leave.

But Reggie wasn’t going to leave. Nothing Sirius said could convince him. He was going to get Reggie out of there eventually- he was certain of that. But he had to concede this point, just for now. Pick and choose his battles.

“Okay,” he whispered. “Okay. I’m not going to force you to leave. But, Reggie-” he lowered his hands from his face to his shoulders. “We can’t go back to ignoring each other, okay? Let’s be brothers again. Yeah?”

Reggie hesitated, biting his lip. “I… I don’t… I don’t even remember how to be brothers, Sirius…”

“We’re out of practice,” Sirius said. “But we’ll figure it out. We can take it slow, okay? Just, like… exist in the same room without killing each other. Fucking… acknowledge each other in the halls. It’ll be weird at first but it’ll get easier. It will. But we have to try, okay? That’s all I’m asking, that you try. Can you do that?”

Reggie stared at the floor for a few moments, as if considering the offer. He looked up at Sirius, eyes still red, but gaze firm as he nodded.

“Yeah?” Sirius asked. “Promise?”

“Okay,” Reggie whispered. “But you have to promise me something, too.”

“Anything.”

“You can’t try to save me.”

Sirius blanched. “I- er- what?”

“You can’t- ugh. Sirius,” Reggie sighed. “You- you want to save me. You think that if I agree to try, you’ll like, save me or something, get me away from maman and papa and whisk me away to your little Gryffindor fantasy land where everybody’s happy. I know you. And I know you think you can do that, but you can’t, okay? I need to stay where I am. I want to stay where I am.”

Sirius was silent for a moment. Reggie had read him startlingly easily. “I- Reggie, come on. I’m not- I’m not trying to save you, okay, I just wanna help -”

“And I don’t want to be helped!” Reggie said. He pinched the space between his brows, drawing in a calming breath. “I’m fine where I am, okay? If you want to be brothers again, you have to accept that. You can’t help me. Okay? Can you accept that?”

Sirius stared at him. It should be hard to lie to his brother, he thought. He should feel guilty doing it. But the words slid out as easily as the truth would. “I can accept it.”

Reggie narrowed his eyes skeptically.

“I don’t like it, but I can accept it,” Sirius added, trying to imbue his tone with a little more reluctancy. “I promise. As long as you promise you’re going to try.”

Wordlessly, Reggie held up his pinky in the space between them.

Smiling, Sirius linked his pinky with Reggie’s and shook it.

“You better not break it this time,” Reggie said.

Of course Sirius was going to break it. Of course he planned to save his brother at all costs. And one day, when they were both older, when Reggie was all grown up and Grimmauld place was just a terrible memory, Reggie would understand and he would thank him. For now, if Sirius had to lie to get there, he would. Anything for his little brother.

“Wouldn’t dream of it,” Sirius said.

Reggie broke away, scrubbing at his eyes, and headed back over to the table to pick up the bloody robe he’d used to wrap Sirius’s arm, clearing the blood from the table with a wave of his wand. Sirius stood in the middle of the hospital wing, watching him wistfully. He could hardly even believe they’d just had that interaction. He’d just hugged Reggie. And Reggie had let him.

Sirius scanned the empty hospital wing. All evidence of Sirius’s injury had been cleared away completely. Where the fuck was Madame Pomfrey, anyway? If he hadn’t run into Reggie, Sirius would’ve been fucked.

Reggie headed over to the door and lingered in the doorway, waiting for Sirius to approach him. As he walked over to the door, the tiredness seemed to hit Sirius all at once, slowing down his limbs, dimming his vision. Merlin, if all this shit didn’t get him to fall asleep when he got back to his room, he didn’t know what would.

When Sirius reached Reggie’s side, they both stood silently in the doorway, as if each was too afraid to be the first to leave. Reggie broke the silence.

“Please don’t worry too much about me, Sirius,” he said quietly. “It’ll be over soon, anyway.”

Sirius glanced down at him, frowning. “What do you mean?”

“I mean…” Reggie sighed. “I know you want to get me out now, but I only have a few years until graduation. Mother wants me to move out as soon as I graduate. I can hold on until then.” He shrugged. “I’ll still be a part of the family, but once I’m out of the house… it’ll be better.”

“What do you mean, better?” Sirius asked weakly.

“I guess I just-” Reggie paused. “It just feels like there’s this like- darkness hanging over my head. Even when I’m here, just knowing I have to go back to Grimmauld…” he shuddered. “But once I leave… Well, you know what I mean. You got out, and you’re just- you look so happy all the time, like nothing ever bothers you. It’s so easy for you.”

 Reggie’s eyes had turned glassy and wistful, staring off into nothing. Something about the hope in them made Sirius’s heart ache.

“You think… once I’m out, it’ll be the same for me, right?” he continued. “I’ll be able to sleep and breathe and just- just live, right? The way you do? It’ll all be over,” he directed his gaze up at Sirius. “Right?”

Sirius stared at him, the sweet, earnest hopefulness in his eyes as he looked up at Sirius. Just trusting unequivocally that Sirius had the answer to everything.

It was no longer a comfort, the way Reggie looked to him for answers. What was Sirius supposed to say? Reggie was so full of hope, the way Sirius had been before he left. He hadn’t realized yet what Sirius had only just begun to accept- that wherever he went, whatever he did, that darkness followed. It never went away.

Sirius didn’t have the answer. At least, not the answer Reggie wanted to hear. He felt so young, and so embarrassingly scared. He glanced back down at his little brother, chest aching as he met his wide, vulnerable eyes.

Reggie was younger than Sirius. He was more scared than Sirius.

This lie was much harder, but he told it anyway.

“Yeah, Reggie. It all ends.”