What You Are
Sirius had never been more shocked than when Regulus climbed suddenly into his bed that night. Or perhaps he’d been more shocked the night they’d made up, when Regulus had hugged him out of nowhere. Or when he’d seen Regulus at the Gryffindor party for the first time, dancing. It seemed Regulus was full of surprises.
Nevertheless, Regulus had climbed under the covers next to him and slept there soundly. When Sirius awoke the next morning, he was gone, as if the whole thing had just been a figment of his imagination. He still couldn’t really believe it.
Even if they’d made up, Sirius didn’t think he’d really been forgiven by Regulus yet. Sometimes he wondered if he ever would be. He still remembered the way Regulus had asked him to stay, in that small, desperate way, and he couldn’t have stayed, not a moment more, but it felt awful to know that he hadn’t. Grimmauld Place was such a dark and lonely house; without Sirius Kreacher was the only real company Regulus had, and Sirius could not imagine a much more depressing fate.
Kreacher had always been soft on Regulus in a way he could never be with Sirius. Sirius remembered with cold clarity the way he and Kreacher had fought over whose responsibility Regulus was all those years ago. They both loved him, in their own way, but in the end, the difference was that Sirius could stand up to Orion and Walburga, and Kreacher could not.
Sirius also remembered the day when everything had changed. The greatest surprise of them all, even if it had made sense afterwards. The day when he’d gone from having a little sister to a little brother.
Sirius had been with his father, in those days when his father had still tried with him, and they were in a special room in the house. Orion was going to teach him to duel (in the secret hope, Sirius knew, that he would use the knowledge to pick on the muggle children who sometimes played on their street). The room was special because the Ministry couldn’t trace the magic that went on in it. It was a sacred family tradition for fathers to teach their underage sons in there, though later Orion would use it for different purposes.
It was before Hogwarts, and he must have been about seven, which meant Regulus was six. They were only little. Regulus was only little, then. He’d felt left out, because he wanted to learn to duel too. Regulus wanted to do everything Sirius did, like a rosy-cheeked shadow that followed him everywhere (even into his bed, late at night when their parents were asleep already). But of course, Regulus wasn’t allowed to do this with Sirius and Orion, that wasn’t tradition, and so he’d been left with Kreacher in the nursery. He was sullen, even if he knew that Sirius would teach it all to him later.
Orion had begun his lesson, startlingly patient but dangerously close to the edge. Sirius knew that it would only take one too many mistakes, one too many failed jinxes or even the wrong word to set him off. They were both on their best behaviour after a recent explosive fight, and Sirius especially since he wanted to learn this magic. It always went in circles like that, they would be horrible to each other, and then they would pretend to be nice until they were horrible again. Regulus mostly managed to stay out of this vicious cycle; he was a better kid than Sirius. But because he was so good at staying out of trouble (or Sirius was so good at taking the blame whenever he slipped up), Regulus had never before faced the full wrath of either parent. That day, when they were six and seven, was when it all changed.
Sirius had been on his second spell and the first had gone mercifully well. He’d always had a bit of a knack for magic, and it was a lucky thing, too, because it was the only redeeming quality he’d ever held in the eyes of his parents. The second spell was a little harder, a stinging hex if he remembered right, the kind his mother liked to dole out when her patience was wearing thin.
“No, no, like this,” Orion was telling him sternly, guiding his wandwork with an uncomfortably tight grip. He was close to the edge, getting closer. He would snap soon unless he was satisfied. Sirius had swallowed down his spit and his nerves and tried again.
He’d got it that time, he really had, and he’d turned excitedly to his father, face full of delight, only to find him looking away. He’d followed Orion’s gaze, furious at whatever had stolen his attention, and found Regulus, little Regulus, standing shyly in the corner, his eyes bright and round and curious. There was a terse silence, and Regulus fiddled with his shirt sleeve, shrinking into the wall with every passing, growing second.
“I just,” began Regulus in a small, caught voice, “I want to learn too. I’m old enough to–
“How did you get in here?” demanded Orion, and he wasn’t angry, he wasn’t even exasperated; he was surprised. Shocked.
Sirius hadn’t understood at first. Regulus had always been crafty, even without magic, and even if the room was secret, he was bound to find it and sneak in if he went looking. Regulus hadn’t understood either, because he’d only gestured falteringly to the door, his eyes wide and confused.
“How did you get in here?” Orion had asked again, harsher this time.
“He just used the door,” Sirius had complained, looking between his brother and his father with growing frustration, “He probably followed the sound of our voices,” he moved towards Regulus to push him towards the exit, “Now get out, Rina! This is my lesson.”
Orion had held him back, without even looking at Sirius, his stare fixated and uncomprehending on Regulus.
“Go and get your mother, Carina,” he instructed coldly.
“But I-” began Regulus.
“Now.”
Regulus left, and Sirius waited with Orion for Walburga to show up.
“I don’t understand,” Sirius had complained, “What’s the big deal? Carina sneaks around all the time–
“Be quiet,” Orion had ordered in a very dangerous tone of voice. Sirius had ruefully shut his mouth until Walburga and Regulus reappeared. Regulus led her into the room, the door still open from when he’d left, but she stopped short in the doorway. Regulus had looked over his shoulder expectantly, waiting for her to step over the threshold, but she wouldn’t. She couldn’t. She only watched as Regulus watched her, both of them surveying the other from either side of the doorway. Eventually, she looked up at Orion.
“You know what this means,” she said simply. Sirius could not understand in the slightest what was happening.
“Can I be part of the lesson?” asked Regulus uncertainly. Orion said nothing.
“Only a boy can step into this room,” declared Walburga flatly, watching Regulus again, “Do you understand, Carina?”
“What?” Regulus had asked quietly.
“Carina’s not a boy,” Sirius had laughed confidently, even if he knew that Carina didn’t really like dressing like a girl, or having to do the things that girls did. Even if he knew how Carina had cut her hair short when she was four, and Sirius had pretended he’d done it to get her out of trouble. Even if he knew that Carina liked to wear his clothes instead of hers, and that sometimes when they played together, Carina liked to pretend she was a boy instead.
“What?” she’d asked (he’d asked), ever so softly.
“Are you a boy, Carina?” Walburga had asked.
Regulus had looked helplessly at Sirius, and at Orion, and at their mother, so lost and confused.
“I don’t know,” he said, and then, “Sometimes I… I’d like to…”
And that was when Orion had snapped.
“You want to be a boy?” he’d roared, his voice so powerful it felt as though he’d shaken the walls, “You want to be a man?” he advanced on Regulus, who was shrinking and shrinking, trying to disappear, “Then I’ll treat you like one—
And he’d hit Regulus, hard, across the face, with his club of a hand. Regulus had fallen over, his eyes full of tears, he didn’t understand, he didn’t—
Orion hit him again. Sirius had rushed in between them, raising his arms and pleading but Orion had knocked him out of the way, out of the room and into Walburga, who caught him and held him tightly, her fingers digging into his arms as they both watched on.
Orion hit Regulus again, and again, and again. Regulus was too small to defend himself, he just kept looking at the doorway, at Sirius and at their mother. Sirius barred from helping by the unrelenting grip on his arms, Walburga stuck behind the doorway, the both of them, useless.
Regulus’ nose was bleeding, dripping hot blood all over the floor and staining his clothes. There was blood on his head too, building up in his short black hair, clotting the strands together. He wailed and screamed and cried until he realised that no one was coming to help him, and then all Sirius could hear was the sound of his little, ragged breaths. And then he couldn’t even hear that.
Orion was panting, finally calming down. He kicked Regulus’ tiny, frail body in its side. There wasn’t any sound. The fingers pressing into Sirius’ arm gripped impossibly tighter.
“Orion,” Walburga’s voice rang cold and clear, unwavering in the face of his violence, but Sirius could feel the tremble in her fingers, “That’s quite enough,” was all she had said.
***
“Are you alright?” asked Remus at breakfast. Sirius looked up, half-smiling.
“Of course.”
Remus frowned at him quizzically.
“You’ve been quiet all morning,” he stated, “Is something wrong?”
“No it’s just…” he smiled again, wider this time, “It’s nothing,” he lied.
“You can tell me,” Remus reminded him quietly, reaching out to tuck a loose strand of hair behind his ear. Sirius leaned into the touch.
“I can’t, actually,” he said softly, “Black family’s best kept secret, you see.”
James looked over at him suddenly.
“I see,” said Remus warmly, “Would some hot chocolate make it better?”
“I think that’s just the thing,” agreed Sirius with a huffed laugh.
“Hold on,” said Remus, standing up, “I’ve got to go and get it from Mary.” Sirius watched him go, letting out a long breath.
“You two are insufferable,” moaned Peter, and James shot him a look.
“Aww, feeling left out?” teased Sirius, “Come here and I’ll give you another kiss.”
***
The bite mark was still there. It had been over a week.
He and Remus were looking at it again in the mirror, Sirius having removed the disillusionment charm from the day.
“It should be gone by now,” fretted Remus, “Or at least more faded than it is.” He was pacing along the bathroom floor.
“Relax,” replied Sirius, “It’s fine, Moony–
“No! It’s not fine!” he interrupted, his voice raised in a way that made Sirius flinch, Remus lowered it again, his face apologetically guilty, “I… What if it doesn’t go away, Sirius? What if I’ve– What if I’ve scarred you for life?”
“You wouldn’t be the first,” he mumbled dryly, folding his arms over his chest. This did not appear to comfort Remus at all.
“Sirius,” he pleaded, stopping before him to hold him by the shoulders, “What if I’ve… passed something onto you? You know how a werewolf bite works!” Sirius frowned, and for the first time he could understand some of Remus’ worry.
“You weren’t a werewolf, though,” he reasoned, “And surely we would know by now if anything was… different.” Remus let go of him and resumed his pacing.
“I don’t know,” he sighed stressfully, “I don’t know.” Sirius watched him, his brows knotting with worry for the boy before him.
“Let’s go for a smoke,” he suggested, and Remus grunted his assent.
***
“It was stupid,” Remus told him bitterly as he took a long drag from his cigarette and passed it to Sirius, “I lost control again. I can’t– I can’t do that.” he turned accusingly towards him, “You promised me it would be ok!”
“It was okay,” insisted Sirius, feeling agitated as he filled his lungs with smoke, “It is ok. It’s fine.”
Remus groaned, and Sirius passed him back the cigarette.
“I don’t want you to… I don’t want you to have anything to do with the Wolf,” hissed Remus, inhaling, exhaling, inhaling again as his fingers trembled, “Nothing more than you have to. It’s meant to be just you and me, not… Not him.”
“Well I don’t care,” said Sirius flippantly, and Remus turned to him with wild eyes, “I love you both, and if ‘the Wolf’ bit me, then that’s only because deep down, you wanted to do it too. You told me yourself that’s how it works.”
“Sirius-
“No, stop it!” he insisted, “You don’t listen to me! I liked it, I like it, and I’d want you to do it again,” he was breathing heavily, and he snatched the forgotten cigarette back from Remus’ fingers with a glare, “I’m sick of you feeling guilty about this,” he added tersely, “There’s nothing to be guilty about.” Remus faltered, opening and closing his mouth a few times.
“How can you say that?”
“Because it’s true.”
“Sirius,” he said again, “What I am… it’s… it’s dangerous, and you know it, you can’t just pretend that–
“What you are, is my boyfriend, the part that’s Remus, the part that’s the Wolf, it’s all you, and- and I want all of it, so stop… hiding!”
Once again, Remus was stunned silent.
“Why would you-” he trailed off, his voice dying with the last embers of their cigarette, which he dropped and crushed out underfoot.
“It’s all part of you,” continued Sirius, “Don’t you think I want to see every part of you?” He went slowly forward, until there was just a few inches between them, and wrapped his arms around Remus’ waist, pulling him in for a hug with his face pressed against Remus’ chest. Remus let him, and returned the gesture, leaning down to bury his face in Sirius’ shoulder. After a moment, Sirius realised he was crying, and he held on even tighter. “Please stop worrying about it,” he whispered, “It’s really alright.” Remus was silent.
“Alright,” he agreed after a while, his voice breaking, “I’ll stop.”