He sat on the edge of his bed, listening to the familiar screams of his brother and his mother arguing. Even on the floor above, he could hear it clearly. “Disappointment of a son! Disgusting, vile, perverted… Just like your uncle…”
“I can’t help it, I don't mean to…”
“SILENCE, YOU WRETCHED BOY!”
Regulus winced and sighed, adjusting his grip on the cup in his hands. He cleared his throat, taking a sip of his ‘special potion’, as his mother liked to put it. He held a mouthful of the liquid, pointing his wand at his throat, then his heart, before he swallowed. The liquid, which was slightly sweet, turned rancid in his throat, and he struggled to get it down. Regulus gagged, throat scorching from the vile taste, looking down disdainfully at the rest of the potion, before repeating the process over and over until the cup was empty.
Regulus shuddered, glad that he didn’t have to do that for another week. He knew it was for his own good, but why did the process have to taste so bad? Surely there were better ways of blocking the hormones about to ravage his body during puberty. He set the goblet down along with his wand on his desk, moving back to his bed to lie down. His mother was no longer yelling; he could hear her heels clicking on the tiled floors of the kitchen, no doubt helping Kreacher with dinner. He wondered with vague concern how Sirius was doing. If he had fucked up badly, he would be in bad shape. Regulus gazed out of his window, turning his thoughts away from his brother, watching the dark clouds slowly sweep across the rapidly darkening sky. He hoped it would snow tonight - it snowed last Christmas Eve. Regulus loved the snow.
As he almost began to drift off, Kreacher appeared in his room. “Master Black is requested in the dining room for dinner,” he announced bowing as low as his long nose would let him.
“Thank you, Kreacher,” Regulus said politely as he Apparated away, collecting himself and putting on a set of neat robes that hung in his closet. He checked himself in the full-length mirror in the corner of his room. His hair, which had been cut short when his parents decided that Sirius would no longer be a suitable heir, curled around his ears. Although he was only twelve and still rather short, he was glad that his parents allowed him to begin transitioning - he couldn’t imagine how much harder it would be if he was already grown.
Regulus followed the elaborate rug from the hallway down the flight of stairs to the ground floor. He entered the kitchen, back straight and head held high, just like how his parents told him to walk. “Everyone else is scum beneath your feet; especially Mudbloods and half-bloods. You are better than them. They do not deserve to walk this earth; to tarnish our purity with their dirtiness.” Regulus sat in his designated seat, to the left of his father.
“Regulus,” Orion nodded, acknowledging his presence.
“Father,” Regulus replied. Regulus' eyes swept around the table, and Sirius’ absence was painfully obvious. Regulus hoped he would come down soon so he wouldn’t have to face any further repercussions. Walpurga walked purposefully to Regulus' side, placing a plate of meat pie with mashed potatoes and vegetables in front of him, and a similar plate to his left where Sirius was meant to sit. Right at that moment, Sirius entered the room - eyebags heavy, skin pale, hair limp. Guilt curled in Regulus’ stomach. Was Sirius alright?
He tried to catch Sirius’ eye, to no avail. He kept his head down, making his way slowly, with difficulty, to the table. He leant against it heavily once he was near enough, helping himself down onto his chair. Regulus felt awful - he should’ve helped his brother, or at least checked on him to make sure he was okay. Walpurga sat to Orion’s right, signalling the start of dinner. As Regulus picked up his cutlery, feelings of regret and remorse drowned him, the tension in the air rising. Regulus subtly leaned back to look at Sirius’ legs. Even though he was wearing black pants, Regulus could still see the dark spots of blood on the back of his calves where it seeped out of its bandages. Regulus blinked rapidly to control his emotions, schooling his face. He could not show emotion in front of his parents. They, contrary to him, did not seem to care about the state of their eldest son. They ate their dinner in silence, not bothering to aid Sirius in the pain they had caused him.
Regulus swallowed his shame, and began to eat.
After dinner, the brothers were excused from the table, and Sirius stood up immediately to leave. He walked stiffly down the hallway to the staircase, biting his lip in pain as he stretched his calves to carry himself upstairs, reopening the straight-lined lacerations that had not been given any time to heal. Regulus followed behind, making sure his parents wouldn’t see him; making sure Sirius didn't drip any blood onto the rug. According to them, Sirius did not deserve help after he had been punished. Sirius gripped the hand railing, depending on it to help him up. “Sirius?” Regulus called softly. He didn’t answer.
“Are you ok?” Regulus asked once they had reached the first landing. Sirius glared at him.
“I’m fine,” Sirius gritted his teeth, the pain overwhelming him as he walked down the walkway to his room.
“Please, let me help you-”
“Help me?” Sirius laughed. “Since when did you ever care about my health?” They had reached Sirius’ bedroom. Regulus peeked inside - although he had seen it countless times, he was in awe about how brazenly Sirius could disobey their parents. Red and gold coated his room in an unabashed display of house pride, his broomstick resting on its hooks on his wall.
“Don’t pretend like you care about me when you very clearly don’t.” Sirius scoffed and closed the door in Regulus’ face. He stood there for a moment, unsure of what to do, before returning to the staircase to make his way to his room.
***
That night, Regulus couldn’t sleep. Not because it was Christmas the next day - all that was planned was a boring pure-blood get-together so his parents could talk about the government and campaigns. He was worried about Sirius. He didn’t look very good at dinner, and although he knew Sirius would be alright (he always was), Regulus was still anxious. What if today was the day? What if today was the day that Mother went too far?
He crept out of bed, slowly making his way towards the door. He opened his door as quietly as he could and made his way into the second-floor hallway. Regulus glanced at the clock that hung at the end of the hallway - 10:55. If his parents caught him up this late, the consequences would be catastrophic. But he had to see Sirius - he had to see his brother. He made a quick stop at the bathroom to collect some bandages from the cabinet. He knew that his mother's curses didn't stop bleeding for hours.
After what seemed like ages of quiet sneaking around in the dark, descending the staircase and stopping every few seconds for the sound of his parents on the ground floor, Regulus made it to his brother's bedroom. He placed his hand on the doorknob, twisting it slowly, adrenaline coursing through his veins.
“Sirius?” Regulus whispered. Sirius turned around from where he was lying on his bed, sitting up to look at his brother. “I brought you some new bandages,” he said, holding up the gauze almost as a peace offer. It was a faulty cover, they both knew. Sirius always kept fresh bandages under his bed. It was second nature, by now. Sirius frowned, sighing and - going against his better judgement - moved back gingerly on his bed. An invitation. Sirius winced slightly as his calves made contact with the mattress, quickly moving to fix his pain, and Regulus twisted his lips in sympathy. He closed the door quietly, tip-toeing across the floor in his bed socks to minimise any noise. He delicately placed the bandages on Sirius’ bedside table, climbing under the blanket with his brother, lying in the warmth that Sirius’ body had pressed into the bedding.
“Hi,” Regulus breathed, facing his brother. Sirius’ grey eyes shone in the dark moonlight that managed to get past his curtains, an eerie contrast to the dim room. Sirius twitched, deterred and hesitant at Regulus’ actions. They had not shared a bed like this, late at night, for the past three years. Not since Sirius got sorted into Gryffindor. Regulus could tell that his brother was weary of him; keeping him at arms length. Exhaustion was pulling at Sirius' eyelids, cheekbones taut, his mouth pressed into a thin line.
“What do you want?” Sirius asked, just loud enough for the words to travel the six inches that lay between them. Regulus tried not to let his adverse tone bite into him - but it hurt anyway.
“I wanted to talk. It’s been… a while.” Regulus bit his lip. ‘A while’ was an understatement.
“Alright, then. Talk.” Regulus swallowed, keeping an ear out for any sign of his parents.
“Uh… well, um. I was just gonna kinda say something stupid about how I'm grateful that our parents don’t like you.” Regulus meant for it to come across as a joke, but he could feel Sirius’ faint curiosity swiftly shift into deep hurt and betrayal. Sirius moved back, physically trying to distance himself from his brother, disgust weeping out of him. “No - no, not like that!” Regulus tried to amend what he said, but it was too late. “It’s just that, if you were a perfect heir, then they wouldn’t let me transition. They wouldn’t let me be a boy. It's... kinda funny, isn't it?” Regulus held his breath, hoping that his explanation would be a sufficient justification.
Sirius stopped trying to move away, falling still where he was, propped up on his forearm. “What?”
Dysphoria crashed into Regulus, perturbance settling into his tone. “Well… if they had you as an heir, then why would they need another boy? They would just scream at me and not let me transition, and they’d probably defile me the same way they do you.” What Regulus was trying to say was that he was grateful for his older brother - for letting him be who he truly was. But Sirius didn’t see it that way. His eyebrows knotted together, upper lip curling in distaste, malice weaving into his tone as he leant closer to Regulus.
“Defile you? Do you know what I have to go through?” He hissed. “The pain that she makes me experience? Not only physically, but mentally? She slashes at my legs, hoping to drag confessions out from under my skin, clawing her way into my heart to discover what she wants. Look at my rug - you can still see the bloodstains from earlier, from yesterday, from the day before that.” Regulus’ eyes began to fill with water, rotten feelings creeping up his throat. No! This isn’t what I meant!
“Sometimes I feel like I should lie - tell her something she wants to hear, before she moves on to my mind. But I can never speak fast enough - not when I'm in that much pain. She burrows her way into the creases of my brain, pronouncing disgust and abhorrent judgment to whatever she finds there. My own thoughts aren’t safe - she goes in there, smashing everything up, injecting her own lethal convictions into there, so I don’t even know what my own thoughts are. I don’t even know who I am anymore.” Sirius blinked, tears falling onto the pillow under him, overcome with emotion.
“I don’t even know who I am anymore,” he repeated, voice hoarse from whispering. He wiped his eyes, Toujours Pur!, and kept talking. “So, thank you, Reggie. I’m glad that our mothers’ abhorrence of me is beneficial to you. I’m glad that all you took from these years of abuse I have endured is that you’re the favourite child. It’s okay, though - as long as their little prince, who isn’t even supposed to be a boy, is thriving.
“You nauseate me, Regulus Black. I loathe you, and my enmity for you never seems to stop growing. I am revolted by you, and the sickening way you follow our terrorist parents around. You know that, don’t you? That they kill people for fun? You hurt me so much, and you don’t even bother to check if I’m ok. I hate you. I hate you so much it scares me. I hate that you’re gonna end up like them. I hate that you don’t care. What happened to our relationship? We used to be best friends. You used to love me,” Sirius choked, years of bottled-up emotions all rushing out at once.
“I do love you!” Regulus said, voice thick with tears. “It's you who stopped loving me! It’s not my fault you’re a bad heir. I just miss the days before you went to Hogwarts and changed. You came back on that first Christmas, and you were different. You weren’t the brother I grew up with.” Regulus sobbed, burrowing into the blanket to dry his tears.
“I didn’t change. You did. Those three months that you were here alone corrupted you. Our parents twisted your thoughts, manipulated you into becoming their own little perfect heir. I hate you. And you know what? I hate myself for continuing to love you. Because you’re my brother, and that will never change. No matter what you do, no matter how evil you become.” Sirius stared down at his brother, which was difficult to do while lying down, but Regulus still felt his antipathy. Regulus sniffed, trying to hold his tears at bay. "You're still my brother." Regulus hiccupped as he slipped out of Sirius’ bed, and he was hit with a wave of cold air through his thin pyjama shirt. He shivered, heart aching. Somehow, he knew that he and his brother could never recover from this. “Go back to your room, Reg." The nickname hurt Regulus more than it should've. "I don't want to hear your pathetic apologies ever again.” Sirius rolled over, turning his back on his brother.
Somewhere, in the distance, the church bells rang from the nearby Muggle town, signalling the beginning of a new day.
“M-Merry Christmas, Sirius.”
***
The next day, when waves of rich guests enamoured with elegant jewellery entered the house for the annual Christmas gathering, when the gracious lunch roast was being cut and distributed to everyone, when the children were kicked out of the dining room so the adults could have important conversations about the political state of the Wizarding World, Sirius Black did not look at his brother once.