bared teeth
Sirius Black was a proud man.
He didn't bend or buckle. He was cocky.
So, when Walburga tried to make him take the Dark Mark, he ran.
Or, well, tried to.
"You stupid, good for nothing, piece of SHIT heir!" Walburga screamed, looking down at her oldest son with pure loathing. She spat on him. She had been crucioing him for almost an hour. She had put him under the Imperius curse, used Crucio, laid her ringed hands on him. Anything to get him to shut up. She couldn't believe that she had done this. Created an heir unwilling to listen, unwilling to accept his fate. She had never seen someone so convinced they would do good things in this life. She needed him to stop thinking that way.
Regulus was watching. He stood halfway behind a corner. The only way Sirius could tell he was there at all were the black mop of curls barely peeking out from the corner. He always seemed to be a ghost in this house. He haunted it. He was barely a person when it came down to it, taking up the least amount of space possible and trying to remain empty. Whether he cared at all was impossible to tell. His grey eyes were blank, and his father had an iron tight grip on his upper arm. He watched it all, watched like an unimpressed specter. A passive spirit.
Sirius was looking at Walburga. He had tried, tried so hard, to stay his usual stupid self. To come up with some snarky retort, to get under her skin. But he couldn't speak. His throat was raw from screaming and he could barely move without wanting to start sobbing. His body trembled. He could barely think. There was so much blood, it dripped out of the lashes her spells had left and onto the hardwood floor. He vaguely realized Regulus would be the one to clean it up. His eyes were wide as dinner plates, looking at his mother. Looking at his own blood relative, the mother who was meant to be loving. She had created him, seen him covered in her blood as a young child. It was almost as if she was trying to reverse the roles, now. The shirt she was wearing was stained in her oldest son's blood. The blood pooled around himself. He didn't realize there was this much in him to bleed.
"Maman, I-" he started weakly. Walburga didn't even let him start. She leaned down just enough to take his face in her hands, the start of affection. Without a moment of hesitation, however, she slapped him across the face so hard the sound resonated throughout the room. It felt like years were passing, like they were all aging rapidly in every second. Like this was a memory they were all seeing, years and years after this had happened.
"You do not get to call me maman. I am not your mother. You are no son of mine. You are an animal, a beast. I wish I had never had you. I loathe myself for having a son as terrible as you." Walburga said, her voice unshaking and cold, colder than ice. Sirius felt it. Like it was a tangible thing, as real as the ice-cold sweat beading on his forehead and dripping down his spine. Whatever semblance of care she had shown him in the past was nothing. She viewed him as nothing more than scum on her floor. He was no longer her son. Just like that.
Sirius swallowed; his vision blurred. He heard Walburga say something to someone, but he couldn't focus. The world spun. He watched Orion and Walburga leave the room, talking to each other. Their words blurred together in a mesh of sound. Regulus. Regulus. His baby brother, the one he practically raised. The one who he watched grow up. The one he took curse after curse for, the one he kept as safe as he could. Sirius leaned on his arm and bit his tongue to keep from crying out in pain. He looked his baby brother in his eyes, silver meeting grey. He held out his opposite hand, the one that wasn't supporting himself. The blood kept pooling, and he felt his light headedness get worse. He was silently begging Regulus to help him, to just once repay the kindness he had been given. Sirius took lash after curse after beating after bruise after berating for his baby brother. Always his baby brother.
And Regulus looked at him. Looked at his brother, his mentor, his caregiver. Saw him asking for help. They had talked earlier. Sirius practically begged Regulus to leave with him, and Regulus pleaded for him to stay. Sirius had begged, telling Regulus that there was more to this life than what he had been forced to endure in this house. He told him his plan, to run away to the Potter's house. Regulus told him he wouldn't know how to live any other way than the way he was raised. He wouldn't be able to adapt, he wasn't built for a better life. They were stuck at an impasse. And in this moment, Regulus looked down at Sirius and took his hand. Sirius felt something fall into his palm, his fingers curling around it as his brother pulled his hand away. There was something close to pity on his face.
"Go, Sirius." Regulus whispered. Sirius stood on shaking legs. His wand, his wand, fuck where was his wand? Regulus silently handed Sirius his wand. He had grabbed it to keep Walburga from finding it and snapping it. He couldn't do anything. He looked at Sirius. His expression was a neutral mask. Sirius could remember times when his baby brother would look at him, his heart on his sleeve and his expression so easy to be read. He remembered his brother being an open book. But there was nobody to save their past selves. They could only save who those poor children had become; the people they were now. Regulus couldn't do any healing spells on him without their parents hearing. He watched Sirius with wide eyes and for a moment, Sirius saw the child he once was. The fear boiling beneath his skin on the daily. Sirius took a shaking breath.
"I'll- I'll come back for you." Sirius promised him in a low voice. Regulus knew better than to trust that. It was written on his face. He just sighed, looking away. Sirius' hand tightened around the thing Regulus had put in it, still not daring to look. The silence was thick and unforgiving between them. Regulus couldn't leave and Sirius wouldn't stay. A part of both of them always knew it would come to this. They had hoped they wouldn't have to ever see it happen. Sirius walked forward. His blood soaked sock-clad feet were silent on the floor. He walked past Regulus. Is this how it had to be? He knew it was. He had to leave his baby brother behind for himself. He grabbed the shoes by the door. His parents had always hated how messy he was, but now he was just grateful they didn't move them.
Sirius looked back. His eyes met identical ones, the same grey. The same sadness. The same regret.
He mouthed "I love you". Regulus nodded, then turned away.
He pushed the door open as silently as he could. The moment he left, he ran. It didn't matter then, that he was still pouring blood out of his wounds. That he was leaving his baby brother behind in that house. That he didn't even stop to put on the shoes he had grabbed. That he had to leave the bag with his things he had packed in his bedroom. There were miles to run between his house and the Potter's house. He was crazy enough to think he could do it in one night. He was running on pure adrenaline. He only stopped when it finally began to wear off, when the lightheaded feeling came back in full swing from his blood loss. He took a moment just to breathe. He leaned his back against the street pole, his eyes unfocused and his breathing labored. He put his shoes on then. When he went to retie his shoes, the thing Regulus had given him fell out of his hand. He picked it up and looked at it.
It was a silver ring. It had Sirius' birthday engraved on one side of the inside, and Regulus' on the other. It had a black onyx stone in the middle. It was a gift from Sirius for his brother's 14th birthday. Why would he give it back? He swallowed back tears as he slipped it on. All the pain was finally catching up to him. He took his wand with trembling hands and healed every lash he could see. All of the deeper ones. He whispered his spells to himself as he traced it along every deep gash. He just hoped the Ministry would be fair about his underage magic use.
It took him a moment to catch his breath, but eventually he started to run again. The sweat made the blood that had dried in his hair start to drip down his face. He didn't bother to wipe it off.
When he reached the Potter's, the sun was beginning to rise. He saw how the orange light reached up, casting everything in a glow. He took a moment to look at it before steeling himself for James' reaction.