Chapter 1
Harry James Potter was one year old when Sirius last saw him. Barely a toddler. He spit up constantly and outright refused to use the broom Sirius got him for his birthday.
“He’s not even in school yet!” Lily Evans cried.
“Doesn’t matter. Harry was born to be the World’s Next Best Quidditch Player!” Sirius said as Harry unwrapped the baby-sized broom.
“Don’t worry, I’m not even sure it works,” Remus whispered to Lily. Sirius waved his hand. “Pishposh, of course it works!” Sirius helped little baby Harry onto his new broom.
Harry James Potter was the sole survivor of the attack on Grodric’s Hollow. Sirius didn’t even notice the crying child at first. He didn’t hear anything other than his own breath and blood.
James didn’t have a pulse. Sirius’ best friend and pseudo-brother didn’t have a pulse. Dead. He was dead. Sirius couldn’t get to his feet. He crawled to the top of the stairs.
Lily lay in the doorway of the nursery and the hallway. Her eyes wide open and glazed over. “No…” Sirius croaked in disbelief. His hand gravitated to cover his mouth.
A deep voice startled him out of his grief. Rubeus Hagrid was a giant of a man. His eyes were red rimmed. Sirius automatically reached for his wand. “I’m only here for Harry! Dumbledore’s orders! I’ll just- err-” the man attempted to bypass Sirius on the floor.
Harry. Sirius climbed to his feet. He leaned heavily on the wall. He was vaguely aware of his godson screaming his lungs out in the nursery. The blood rushing through his ears was far louder than any of the other sounds. Sirius fished out his motorcycle keys and threw them to Hagrid. “Take my bike. Get him to safety. I’ll retrieve him after” Sirius tried to be firm. His voice shook. His hands trembled so bad.
Hagrid hesitated. A blue blanket Peter bought Harry was cradled in the tall man’s arms. Peter. Rage washed through him, blasting away the sadness. “The rat!” Sirius snarled. Only Sirius and Peter had known James, Lily, and Harry’s Whereabouts. Sirius was down the stairs and out of Godric’s Hollow before Hagrid could question him.
“The rat! The rat! The rat!” Sirius chanted the phrase over and over under his breath. Sirius’ vision was tunnelled. One tracked. That’s how he immediately spotted the abnormally long rat tail wiggling its way through a fence hole across the street.
Sirius sprinted. He hadn’t ever run so fast in his life. Fury potent enough to make his mother proud fueled him. The rat. The rat. The rat! “PETER!” Sirius screamed. “YOU MOTHERFUCKER! THEY TRUSTED YOU! HOW COULD YOU?! HOW BLOODY-” Sirius shouted insults at the rat until he finally shifted. His animagus form really was a true reflection of his soul. His black, tarnished soul.
“FREEZE!” Someone shouted behind them.
Peter shifted before the officers could see him.
That’s how Sirius ended up charged with the murders of James and Lily Potter. Sirius felt sick at the mere suggestion he could do such a thing. ‘Look at me now mum.’ Sirius thought bitterly as he stared out the barred window of his cell in Azkaban.
“Disgraceful.” Sirius mutters to himself.
The man in the cell beside him hums. “Well I do agree, Black, did mummy ever teach you about inside thoughts?” Barty chuckled. Bartemius Crouch Junior has been Sirius’ only source of human interaction for a decade. Barty went to school with Sirius. He was a Slytherin and always with Regulus.
One delusional day, after the Dementors made their rounds, Sirius asked about Regulus. Barty replied in a strange way. He spoke of Regulus in seventh year. It was old news that Regulus had died his sixth year of school. Sirius didn’t tell Barty that though. He blamed the Dementors for Barty’s slip in memory.
Sirius ran a stressed hand down his sweaty face. He groaned loudly. “This is all that stupid-”
“-rats fault. Yeah yeah. We’ve all heard it. You know I believe you, right? Barty said, exasperated. Sirius almost swallows his tongue. “You what?” Sirius almost whispered. It is quiet for a second. Sirius begins to think Barty didn’t hear him through the wall.
A snort comes through a minute later. “Yeah Sirius, I think you a lot of things. A Gryffindor is one of them,” Barty spits the house name like bile. Sirius opens his mouth to defend himself when Barty goes on. “Which is why I know you didn’t do this. If you did, no use running away innit?” Barty is referring to when Sirius was sixteen. The memory of how he left is happy compared to this.
Sirius thinks of Peter. He growls despite not being Padfoot right now. He leans forward and bangs his head on the cold, ashy, cement bars of his window. “Plenty of Gryffindors can be murderers you know.” He bites out. Barty’s sighs sounds heavy. “Yes yes, Pettigrew. He was your little Gryffindor mate. While you were off busy playing pranks, Reg and I used to take bets. ‘How Pettigrew would backstab the Marauders’ Such a stupid name ‘Marauders’.” Barty sounds like a spiteful person who was right all along. He was, Sirius supposes.
Like a record scratching, Sirius’ head whips up. He turns sharply towards the cell wall he shares with Crouch. “You knew?!” He says in outrage. Sirius’ hands ball into fists at his sides. Barty tsks. “No, Black. I didn’t know. Just always got the feeling.” He explains.
Silence descends on them. This is not new. Sirius didn’t talk to Barty for the first two years Crouch was in. His prejudice kept him silent. Eventually, Sirius caved.
Footsteps further down the hallway breaks the quiet. ‘New meat.’ Sirius thinks. The only people who walk freely in this prison are the guards. But the footsteps turn around. They pace back and forth. Up and down the cell wall repeatedly. Sirius can feel the other prisoners perking up.
He wants that to be him. He wants so bad, to walk freely. No chains or magic cuffs. He remembers what that was like. He remembers. Joy fills his chest. Unlike every other time, no Dementors appear to take his happiness.
The footsteps halt. Right outside his cell. A paper drops and Sirius snatches it up faster than the owner could pick it back up. Sirius scans the paper. It’s today’s edition of The Daily Prophet. Dead centre on the front cover is a photo of the Weasley family on vacation. In the shortest boy’s arms is a large rat. A rat Sirius recognizes. Peter Pettigrew. He survived. The reminder Peter is still alive is the final straw of Sirius Black’s barely restrained rage. He snaps. He has to get out of here.
A new emotion builds. Sirius has to get out of here. He will get out of here. The sound of a heavy door banging shut sounds. Sirius feels an impossible amount of adrenaline explodes in him. He is practically bouncing on the balls of his feet.
“Barty,” Sirius breathes. “Barty!” He says a little firmer. “Black?” Barty replies. Sirius’ dry lips tug into a grin. He smiles so wide he tastes blood. “I’m leaving,” He announces
“Leaving?” Barty repeats, incredulously
“Yes.” Sirius confirms
Barty barks a laugh. “Okay, mate. Nice knowing you.” Barty chuckles.
In the end, escaping Azkaban is easy. The thing about Azkaban is it is designed to make you want to stay. The thing about Azkaban, is it is designed to suck all of the joy from you.
The prison is protected less than muggle ones on TV. TV. Television! Sirius remembers television. His muggle studies teacher showed his class one. Sirius and James were immediately befuddled.
‘How do they get the people in there?’ James quietly asked one day. He and Sirius stared in awe as– what their professor called– a cartoon played on the screen.
“I have no idea, Prongs” Sirius didn’t take his eyes off the television.
For the first time since before he went to Azkaban, Sirius remembers James and is happy for longer than a minute. Throughout the years, the second Sirius thinks of something remotely joyous, Dementors come running to snatch it away.
Sirius holds onto the memory of watching telly with James. He has shifted into Padfoot to sneak past the Dementors easier. The beings don’t pick up on his scent as human ones when he is a dog. They just get confused why an animal is in the prison and move on.
The real challenge is getting to land. Sirius never learned how to swim. The Blacks didn’t bother and he always stayed where he could touch in the water. This poses a problem. Azkaban is totally surrounded by water. Padfoot does not have the same hang up around swimming as Sirius does. The dog jumps in the water and starts doggy paddling.
It’s cold. The fresh autumn wind has made the water chiller than a freezer. Padfoot is covered in fur though. It insulates Sirius in a way. Still, the water is freezing. Sirius swears he almost died several times due to hypothermia while in the water.
By the end of the day, Padfoot’s feet are numb. The dog reaches land and shakes his whole body; desperate to rid himself of the cold water. Thinking it would help, Padfoot shifts into Sirius. It certainly does not help. Sirius feels his feet phantom kicking. His muscles are all so sore, he is bleeding from seven different injuries. Briefly, he wonders if this is how Remus feels after a full moon. He quickly scolds himself for even thinking about Remus.
Remus Lupin. His Moony. Sirius had gotten a flat with his boyfriend shortly after graduation. Sirius could return to their flat, he technically never moved out. Although, what if Remus is home? Would he send for the ministry? No, there is only one place Sirius can go that is guaranteed to be safe.
Grimmauld Place should have been empty. Should have. Sirius read a special editorial about The Most Ancient and Noble House of Black he found in a city trash can. The article had stated Walburga and Orion Black died shortly after Sirius was carted off. The blood magic warding the House would withstand even when his parents died; keeping unrelated people out. Which means only Black family could be in the House.
Sirius tries to remember who of his family is still alive. Narcissa Malfoy (nee Black) was one of the first names listed in the newspaper. Along with Bellatrix Lestrange (nee Black) and Draco Malfoy. Sirius remembers his cousins a bit but Draco is a completely new name. Must be Narcissa’s kid.
The short shadow in the living room window of Grimmauld suggests Narcissa probably overtook the place when Walburga and Orion died. Sirius’ mind begins to spin. ‘Where else can I go?’
Sirius can’t go anywhere else. He can’t. He devises a plan. Sirius will sneak in the House and attempt to steal clothes from his old bedroom. He’ll be in and out before anyone can think otherwise. It’s a perfect plan!
Right, Sirius begins to scale the side of the House. The eavestrough dents and small rocks fall to the ground as Sirius climbs. Memories of doing this in the old oak tree at Hogwarts resurface.
“C’mon Pete! Nearly there!” Seventeen-year-old James encourages. Sirius sits on one of the higher up tree branches. James sits across from him; closer to the truck of the tree.
“Mooooneyyyy, you’re next!” Sirius decrees
Remus shakes his head “not on your nelly, Pads.”
Sirius pretends to pout. “But Moooooneyyyyyyyy…”
Remus smiles at the ground.
“I’m up!” Peter announces. Sirius whips his head to where Peter clings onto the largest branch. He smiles and James cheers loudly. Remus applauds.
By the time Sirius falls into his old bedroom window, his hands and knees are scraped and bleeding. He crawls to his bed and gets to his feet. His room is like it’s been frozen in time. Clearly no one has been in here since Sirius ran away at sixteen.
The vulgar posters of pinup girls are still plastered on the wall across from Sirius’ double bed. For a regular thirty-two year old, the bed would be far too small. For Sirius, the bed is huge. Sirius shrunk in Azkaban. There was little-to-no sunlight, barely any food, and the water wasn’t very clean. Not great conditions for a growing twenty year old.
Sirius flops on his old bed. It’s still as comfortable as the day he left it behind. He strains his ears. There is no noise within the house. No footsteps or anything. ‘Odd.’ Sirius heaves himself to his wardrobe but bumps into- air? Sirius stubbles back, onto his bed, and curls in on himself on instinct.
Something hits the ground. Suddenly, Sirius can’t breathe. It’s physically impossible to take in air. James Potter stands before him. James Fleamont Potter, seven years younger than the twenty year old Sirius found dead in his house twelve years ago.
Sirius wants to cry. He feels tears burning the backs of his eyes. “J-James?” Sirius blinks. The boy frowns and lifts his wand. He points it at Sirius. “H-how do you know my dad?” The boy trembles. Harry. Oh Harry. Relief expands in Sirius’ chest. Along with a bazillion other questions.
Why is Harry here? What happened to Lily’s family? Who’s here with Harry? Is anyone here? Is Harry alone? Where is the person watching Harry?
Sirius gets his answer in the sound of the front door opening and closing. “Harry, I’m home!” an unfamiliar voice calls out. Sirius goes to slink off the bed when Harry leans forward a little to press the tip of his wand to Sirius’ head.
“Uncle Reg? There’s someone here!” Harry yells. Sirius just laughs. Harry even sounds like James. Sirius does the math. Harry can’t be more than thirteen. His voice is already pitching lower. ‘Just like your dad.’
Wait,
Reg?
Uncle Reg?
Sirius files through his patchy memory. None of his or James’ family has ‘reg’ in their names. Must be Lily’s side of the family. But, her family are all muggles. It has to be a Black– with magic– to gain entry in the House.
Thumping gets louder on the stairs. “Harry! Are you alright?!” the voice is panicked. And close. A man appears in the door of the bedroom and oh. There is a reg-name in the Black family. A more mature-looking version of Sirius stills. Regulus was always going to be taller than Sirius. In Hogwarts, Sirius could tell. The fact Regulus hasn’t been in prison for twelve years helps.
Regulus looks pretty much the same as when Sirius graduated. Albeit healthier. Regulus’ cheekbones could still cut glass, his eyes a gunmetal grey, and his complexion pale white. Yet, there is light in Regulus brothers eyes and a distinct lack of translucence to his skin. Sirius wants to smile.
Confusion hits him like a ton of bricks. His brother died thirteen years ago. Sirius swears he remembers that correctly. Azakban couldn’t have messed up his memory to such an extent. The Dementors took happy memories. Sirius' memories with Regulus are almost never happy.
“Why did you do that?!” Sirius screams at his brother. The same brother who just forcibly apparated them to an abandoned village. Away from the ongoing fight against a raid of Deatheaters. Away from James. Sirius stomped his foot. “Send me back!” He gritted his teeth.
Regulus’ expression stays emotionless. He’s a stoney wall of apathy as Sirius rages. The only sound he makes is his heaving breaths while his brother yells at him. “They’re all going to die! Send me back!” Angry tears brim in Sirius's eyes.
Regulus remains silent. No feeling shows on his face. “No.” he says calmly
“No? No?!” Sirius charges at his brother. Regulus wordlessly casts a shield around himself and side steps his brother. Sirius collides with the ground, shocked. He is in awe. Wordless, wandless magic is extremely difficult. Regulus got powerful.
Seeing his brother's fascination breaks Regulus' apathy. He snorts openly. His expression reverts back to apathy quickly. “I’m not sending you back, Sirius.” Regulus reiterates, eerily calm. Sirius throws up his arms. “Why not?!” The older man demands.
“Because-” Regulus begins.
The memory fizzles out.
A new memory assaults Sirius’ vision.
Sirius is sent to bed without dinner. This is the compromise he made with his mother to avoid being locked in a cupboard. Sirius' stomach growls loudly. He sighs. Sirius pulls out a piece of parchment. “Dear James,” he writes.
The bedroom door creaks open. Sirius tenses and shoves the parchment under his pillow. When he sees a short figure enter his room, Sirius exhales. However, he doesn’t relax completely. Sirius’ relationship with his brother has been strained since Reggie started at Hogwarts. When Regulus was sorted into Slytherin he started acting more cold to Sirius. More like their parents.
“I-I brought you dinner.” fourteen-year-old Regulus holds out a whole dinner plate of food. Sirius hastily snatches the plate and hides it behind his back. He sends a worried look at the door. Regulus follows his brother's gaze to the door. “They’ve gone to bed. I checked.” He says casually.
Sirius' eyes widen further. Regulus has always had more freedom, in a way, because he’s a Slytherin. But checking on Walburga and Orion Black?
“C’mon,” Regulus sombers, “I know going hungry worsens the nightmares.” He glances at the full plate behind Sirius's back. Sirius places the plate in front of him. His mouth agape. “How-”
“Eat, Sirius.” Regulus lightly kicks the footboard of his brother's bed.
Sirius bblinks. He looks down at the food and lets a smile spread across his face. He holds up a chicken drumstick. “You want some?” He asks Regulus.
Sirius blinks. So maybe there were some happy memories with his brother. None of it changes the fact that Regulus became a Deatheater. He still remembers when James told him.
“Regulus is a Prefect this year.” James came back from the Prefect cart on the train. It was their seventh year. This is their last year at Hogwarts. The mere idea should excite James. This is the last time they’ll be on this train! Sirius is buzzing.
James looks nervous, though. He sheepishly rubs the back of his neck and looks off to the side. Sirius snorts, trying to lighten the mood. ‘Mama's boy’ he signs to no one. “What did he do now?” He asks James. The boy fidgets with his sleeves. “Just tell me, Prongs.” Sirius is getting anxious now.
“We-” James looks at Remus pleadingly. Remus nods and slides closer to Sirius. “We got in- in a fight. He called Lily a mud-”
“You hit him.” Sirius interrupts. He takes a silent intake of breath. He doesn’t phrase it like a question. It’s not. If someone badmouthed Lily, James would raise hell. He doesn’t care- he doesn’t care it was Reggie- he doesn’t- he doesn’t- “Sort of.” James whispers. Sirius raises an eyebrow. “‘Sort of’?”
James coughs. “His mates dragged him back before I landed the hit. Crouch accidentally tore his robes. Sirius, he has the Mark…” James goes on but Sirius can’t listen. ‘Not Regulus. Not him. Please,’ “You’re certain?” Sirius cuts James off mid sentence. James nods, miserably. “I’m sure. I saw it.” James oddly looks like he’s about to cry.
Remus frowns. Peter audibly gasps. Sirius can’t hear anything. Yet, he can hear everything. ‘Not little Reggie. He wouldn’t- he’s a good person. Right? He’s-’ Who is he kidding, Regulus wanted this. He always wanted this. Just like their parents. Noise began to filter into his ears again. Sirius takes a calming breath. Remus bumps Sirius’ arm. A strange sense of comfort washes over the dark haired boy.
“Well!” Sirius clears his throat. “He made his choice. That’s that then!” Sirius exclaims. James looks slightly shocked. Sirius excuses himself from the group. He doesn’t return to the cart for the rest of the ride to Hogwarts.
Regulus is studying Sirius. Scanning him head to toe. His eyes rake over Sirius's body. Regulus’ brows are slightly furrowed. Sirius’ mind is scrambled. He cannot think of any words. Harry speaks first. “Uncle, do you know him?” Harry presses hard with his wand. The pain doesn’t even register right now.
Uncle? How is Regulus Arcturus Black, Harry Potter's uncle? Seriously, how? Regulus died. Sirius grieved. There was a funeral. Now, little Reggie is an uncle? Sirius tries not to think of the logistics, he’ll ask Regulus later.
For now, new worries fill Sirius’ head. Is Harry aDeatheater? Surely not, Harry is a halfblood. Does Harry even know that? What does he know? What has Regulus told him? How long has Harry known Regulus?
Regulus turns on his heels and clears his throat. “Dinner will be ready in five minutes.” He walks out of the room. Sirius looks up at his Godson. Harry slowly withdraws his wand from Sirius’ forehead. “Who are you?” Harry crosses his arms over his chest. Sirius raises an eyebrow. “Does he usually leave you with strangers?” Sirius inquiries. Harry huffs and holy merlin his expression is exactly like Lily’s. “If Reg left me alone with you you’re not a threat I can’t handle.” Harry explains.
Sirius scoffs. “Sounds like Regulus.”
Harry cocks a brow. “What would you know?”
Sirius rolls off the bed, standing on the other side of the room. “The gits my brother.”
Harry’s eyes widen. “Sirius Black?”
Sirius smiles a little. “The one and only.”
Harry runs out of the room. Sirius tries not to take it personally. He follows behind the boy to the top of the stairs. Rapid French meets his ears. Sirius can’t admit he’s not impressed with Harry’s well practised accent. Not as smooth as Regulus’ but still fluent.
Regulus doesn’t speak much. When he does, it’s a clipped answer or a comment about dinner. His voice is low and grows less and less distinguishable throughout the conversation. Sirius redirects his attention away from the terse conversation. He heads back to his childhood room.
It really hasn’t changed here. Sirius opens his closet and all his old clothes he left behind are untouched. So untouched some of them have mothballs and teeth marks from mice chewing them. The perseverance spell Sirius used to charm his clothes with must have ran out years ago.
He tugs a plain white dress shirt off the hanger and grabs an unchewed pair of slacks. Then, he heads straight into his bathroom. Sirius grimaces at his own reflection. The mirror doesn’t lie. Sirius might only be thirty-two but his appearance makes him look like he’s pushing forty.
Sirius strips and gets in the shower. Small tasks wind him so he ends up sitting on the shower floor. The water is freezing cold at first but Sirius doesn’t finch. He’s used to cold water, especially after today. The temperature warms and steam rises in the bathroom air. Sirius watches as murky, grey water swirls down the drain.
He drops his head back so warm water runs through his hair. Sirius locks aren’t as long as they used to be. He kept his hair shorter in prison. Still longer than his brothers’, from what Sirius saw earlier.
With shaky hands, Sirius squeezes half the shampoo bottle onto his hand. He doesn’t care about the most likely expiry date of the shampoo. His hair doesn’t seem to mind either. The soap won’t go past the entanglement of knots; it takes Sirius longer than ever to rinse the shampoo from his hair completely.
After the shampoo, Sirius empties the whole bottle of conditioner on his head. He feels childish tears sting his eyes when his fingers run into knot after knot in his hair. There was no soap in Azkaban. No vanity. Then again, there was no one to see him. Now there is perfectly proportioned Regulus and youthful Harry; Sirius wants to make a good impression.
It takes him until the water runs cold again but Sirius can run his fingers through his hair with only a little struggle. Sirius turns off the water and climbs out of the shower. He gropes the general vicinity of his towel rack. A tower of clean white towels cascades down. ‘Huh, maybe someone has been here since I left.’ Probably that old House Elf.
Sirius heads down the stairs after dressing. His clothes still fit him. If anything, they dwarf him now. Harry is sprawled across the couch in the living room, levitating a book above his head with his wand. The boy shoots Sirius a dirty glare as he sees Sirius. ‘He must have learned that from Reggie.’
Sirius finds himself wondering, again, what Regulus has told Harry about him. Clearly nothing good. Sirius wanders down the hall; following his nose. Whatever the House Elves are making sure smells delicious.
Grimmauld Place is just as how Sirius remembers it. The House hasn’t changed a bit since he ran away at sixteen. Except for a lot of the furnishing. Regulus has definitely changed the style and feel of the house– assuming Regulus is the House owner.
Oh shit! Sirius should’ve asked. He hopes Narcissa isn’t the owner. Lucius works at the ministry. He would for sure rat him out. Bellatrix is in Azkaban though. Only a tone deaf fool could block out his cousin's manic laughter. She never stopped. Barty constantly complained.
At the end of the hallway, what was the grand dining room is a large kitchen. Sirius raises both his eyebrows in shock. This isn’t a kitchen for storing leftovers; it’s a full on industrial kitchen. The stainless steel appliances, white countertops, and sleek black cupboards are shiny and spotless. The most surprising element of the kitchen though? The lack of House Elves.
Regulus is standing at the stove with his back to Sirius. He has his long sleeves rolled up to his forearms and his hair tied back in a low pony. Sirius can’t help but drop his eyes to Regulus’ inner left arm. There is no Dark Mark.
There is no Dark Mark!
Renewed fear and sick hope burns Sirius’ gut. “You don’t have the Mark.” He breathes out the obvious. Regulus drops the ladle he was stirring with. “Well spotted.” Regulus sounds tense and defensive already. He yanks down his sleeves. “Where’d it go?” Sirius asks dumbly. Regulus reaches above him and pulls out three porcelain, white bowls.
“Dinner’s ready!” Regulus calls out. Sirius awkwardly stands in the kitchen; shifting foot to foot. Regulus rolls his eyes and shoves one of the plates at him. “Dining room’s that way.” Regulus gestures to the small room to his right.
Harry comes dashing into the room. He snags a plate and runs past Sirius, almost knocking him over. Regulus gives a small grin and shakes his head. “Watch it, Harry!” Regulus yells after the boy. Harry shouts an apology and Regulus chuckles.
Sirius attempts a grin and follows Harry. The dining room is rather quaint. The table is a circle; stained dark oak, and the walls are covered from floor to ceiling in windows. Harry is sitting in one of the chairs. His black hair is unruly and his glasses are just like James’.
Harry looks up. His eyes narrow in on Sirius. “Why do you look at me like that?” Harry asks. Sirius hesitates. He sets his plate down by the spot across from Harry. Sirius chews on the inside of his cheek, considering his words. “I look at you like that because you look just like-”
“My father.” Harry finishes. Sirius smiles.
Regulus comes into the room. A pot of something and a plate floarts behind him. Regulus isn’t even looking. Sirius is impressed. The pot gently lands in the middle of the table. Harry picks up his plate and the ladle. Regulus clears his throat. Something crosses Harry’s gaze and he sheepishly smiles at Regulus. Then, he sets down his plate and reaches for Sirius’.
Sirius has a sickening thought. He recognises the signs of abuse. Harry’s reaction is ticking all the boxes. “Are you hitting him?” Sirius dead eyes his brother. Harry sputters and almost drops Sirius plate in the soup pot. Regulus’ eyes widen and sadden a little.
“No! Uncle Reg doesn’t hit me! Why would you even ask that?!” Harry sounds outraged. Regulus just stares at his brother. Emotionless Reggie again. “Harry, why don’t you take dinner to your room? Sirius and I have much to discuss.” Regulus leans slightly towards Harry. Harry nods. “Sounds like it.” The boy fills his own bowl with soup and storms upstairs.
“You don’t hit him.” Sirius repeats. “So what? You and I both know abuse isn’t just hard hits. Right, Walburga Junior?”
Pure rage flashes across Regulus features. “I’ve been more than accommodating to you for a sorry excuse of a blood tie who turned their back on me twenty four years ago. You can either shut up and listen! Or I’ll tell the ministry where to find you. Deal?”
Betrayal and bemusement fought for dominance in Sirius. This is what Regulus always was like, wasn’t it? Same old Regulus, thirteen years older. Sirius wants to laugh at the familiarity. He doesn’t. Fear of the ministry coming after him wins out.
Regulus smiles cruelly. “Very good.” He ladles soup into his bowl while levitating Sirius’ with silent, wandless magic. “I’ll have to get used to that.” Sirius quips. Regulus raises a brow but catches on fast. “I only use my wand if I’m duelling with Harry. If I’m not, well,” Regulus takes out his wand and twirls his hair around it. “It’s a wonderful hair accessory.” Regulus grins.
Sirius chuckles and shakes his head at the table. “Start from the beginning.” Sirius said
Regulus swallows roughly. “You mean when you left me for dead when I was fifteen?”
Sirius feels a familiar anger spike. “I mean when you sided with our parents and watched me take over a dozen Curcio’s for you”
“Then how about we start with when I got the Dark Mark, shall we?” Regulus’ voice is cold and deadly.
“It was a warm, sunny, summer’s day. You were probably off playing Quidditch with James in the Potter’s backyard. While you were doing so, I was being reminded that if I refused the Mark today then Walburga and Orion would hunt you down and Imperio me to watch again as they tortured you until ‘you were so delirious you would take the Mark without thinking.’”
“Again? Reggie-”
“My name,” Regulus deeply inhales, “is Regulus Arcturus Black. I took the Dark Mark so our parents didn't go after you. I betrayed Voldemort and committed treason. I destroyed six horcruxes before Harry was even born. And when James and Lily died and you got yourself thrown in Azkaban? I retrieved Harry from a terrible, abusive home where he was being mistreated multiple times a day. I broke years of generational trauma. I adopted him.
“Harry James Potter-Black has been in my care since he was five years old. He is a Gryffindor. He is a Quidditch player. He is a fucking great kid! I did that! Me!” Regulus takes another grounding breath. “I am Regulus Acturus Black and I am a fucking amazing person. Now who are you, Sirius?” Regulus spoons a casual bite of his soup into his mouth.
Sirius is speechless. He doesn’t know what to say to that. He latches on to the least important bit of information. “He’s a Gryffindor?” Sirius says timidly, almost in a whisper. Regulus laughs airily. “Yes. He was sorted into the lion’s den in his first year, much to my disappointment.” Regulus spoons more soup into his mouth passive aggressively.
“But- you accept him?” Sirius tilts his head
“I’m not a monster, Si. You being a Gryffindor was never the problem.” Regulus waves his spoon in the air.
Sirius considers that. “Then what was it?”
Regulus looks confused.
“Why wasn’t I good enough to leave with?” Sirius says almost soundlessly.
Regulus’ features soften. It’s almost like the young boy Sirius begged to run away with him is standing before him.
It was Christmas Break and Sirius was packing his trunk for the Potters. He would be spending the holidays there regardless of what his parents said. Fifteen year old Regulus stood in the doorway.
“What are you doing?” Reggie questioned. Sirius didn’t look up as he shoved another jumper in his trunk. “Going to the Potters.” Sirius confirmed, stone cold. Regulus’ nervousness was palpable. “Sirius-” Regulus started. Sirius looked over his shoulder at his brother.
Regulus fiddled with the sleeves of his dress robes. “It’s Christmas. Can you stay for dinner at least?” Regulus asks. Sirius’ mouth twists in discomfort. He couldn’t say no to Reggie but he didn’t want to play pretend tonight.
“Sirius!” Walburga yelled. Both the boys flinched. Sirius eyed his brother with suspicion as he made his way downstairs. Softer footsteps echoed behind him. Sirius looked back to see his brother slowly descending the stairs as well.
Sirius cleared his throat. “What do you want, mother?” Sirius demanded. He made no effort to mask his brutal words. Walburga clucked her tongue in annoyance. Orion entered the room. “You need to respect your mother, boy.” The old man scolded. Sirius threw his head back and laughed. “You mean like you do?” He retorted.
Orion downed the rest of whiskey in his glass. “I told you he is too young.” He addressed his wife. Walburga hummed. She waved off her husband and assessed Sirius. “Sirius, tonight you will pledge your allegiance to the Dark Lord completely and take the Dark Mark. Any objections?” Walburga smiled condescendingly.
Refusal shot out of his mouth before anything. “Fuck no!” Sirius yelled. Walburga frowned and looked up at Orion, who sighed deeply. “You can make your point without all the inappropriate language, son.” Sirius’ father pinched the bridge of his nose.
“I will not pledge myself to any blood supremist! Not now, not ever!” Sirius threw his arms up. Walburga flexed her fingers around her wand. She twirled it. “I’ve had just about enough of your childish games.” Walburga sighed. She pointed her wand at her son. Sirius was expecting ‘lacero’ or a different cutting curse to hit him. Instead…
“Crucio.”
Unbearable pain made Sirius collapse. His knees bit into the carpet. He couldn’t scream. Maybe he bit through his tongue. Bile rose and tears rolled down his face. It felt as if all Sirius' worst memories took physical form. He thought he was dying. He must’ve been.
Before the agony lifted, Orion stepped close enough Sirius saw the tips of his shiny shoes. “Crucio.” Orion muttered. This time, Sirius did scream. He thought of Remus’ screams on a full moon. Sirius wouldn’t die. He just thought he would. This was another step of his parents' sick games. They would get bored soon.
But they didn’t. Walburga and Orion took turns cursing Sirius until he fell unconscious. Sirius doesn’t remember what happens next. He just remembers waking up on the Potter’s couch, sore from the pain, replaying his torture like a record. ‘Regulus just stood there.’ Sirius thought, in disbelief and horror. Sirius laughed. ‘Of course Regulus just stood there!’ He’s cowardly little Regulus. Mama’s precious baby boy. Maybe this is what Regulus wanted all along.
“Sirius, I couldn’t leave. I had to stay. When you’re losing a fight, distraction is the final resort. I was your distraction” Regulus lifts his bowl to his mouth and gulps down the rest of the soup. Sirius watches in slight amazement. His brother has changed so much since he last saw Regulus.
The older man thinks on this. It makes sense what Regulus is saying. He always found it odd that Walburga and Orion just forgot about Sirius. Sirius figured that was because they had Regulus.
They had Regulus.
The coin drops. Sirius’ spoon clatters in his empty bowl. Regulus didn’t stay out of hatred for Sirius. He stayed for Sirius. Tears well in Sirius's eyes. Similar emotion flashes through Regulus’ eyes but he quickly clears his throat and exits the dining room.
Sirius collects the two brother’s bowls and hastily trails after his brother. “Regulus, wait!” Sirius yells. Regulus disappears into the kitchen. “Bugger fuck! Wait!” Sirius tumbles into the kitchen. He dumps the dirty dishes on a random counter and turns to his brother.
The kitchen is alive with magic. The dishes are washing themselves and the mop is moving around the floor. Sirius has a hard time navigating his way through the room without running face first into a pan. Regulus moves about gracefully. It’s obvious he’s had practice at this. “Ah!” Sirius ducks to avoid a butter knife to the face. He hears Regulus snicker.
“Don’t you have House Elves to do this shit for you?” Sirius asks his brother. Regulus gifts his brother with a flat look. He snaps his fingers and everything speeds up. Then, everything stops. The dishes return to their spots in the cupboards. Sirius looks around. Some of the cabinets are still banging shut. “Bloody hell.” He exclaims when the kitchen quiets.
Regulus smirks. “You bloody bastard,” Sirius heaves a breath. “How are you still alive?” The abrupt change of subject makes both boys wince. “I have to get Harry to bed.” Regulus says apathetically. “Fucking hell, the boys nearly thirteen! When we were his age, we fell asleep to the sound of mother shouting! Harry will be fine!” Sirius just wants answers.
Regulus frowns; looking at Sirius in a scrutinising way. Suddenly, Regulus summons a business card. He shoves it at Sirius. “Book an appointment with this person. Only then, will I allow you to be around Harry unsupervised.” Regulus carries on upstairs.
Sirius turns over the card in his hands.
Tawney Thompson - Squib - Licensed Therapist - (888) 888-888
Sirius scoffs. He doesn’t need therapy. Regulus is crazy. Harry is Sirius’ godson. He’ll see Harry anytime he bloody well likes! He doesn’t need a chaperone.
He angrily stomps up the stairs and freezes immediately. There is a snake randomly lying outside Harry’s room. Regulus is definitely crazy. Sirius is about to scream. He lets out a choked sound. Harry drops the magazine he was reading and looks at Sirius in annoyance. Then, he sees the snake and opens his mouth.
Harry starts whispering loudly in a different language. Sirius can’t differentiate which language. The words sound like they could be English put in reverse. Sirius doesn’t understand a word of what Harry is saying. The snake, on the other hand, does.
It rises up and moves rhythmically for a few seconds. Sirius is ghostly pale within seconds. His muscles scream at him to do something but he can’t move. It’s as if there is a sticking charm on his feet. The snake darts for Harry. Sirius shouts in warning. Regulus appears from the bathroom looking frazzled.
“What’s going on?!” Regulus demands. Harry answers from his bed. “I left my door open and Parsley got out. I forgot we have company.” Harry shrugged a bit bashfully. Regulus chuckles. “Well he’ll have to get used to Pars.” He walks up to the foot of Harry’s bed and picks up the snake.
Parsley wraps himself around Regulus’ arm. Regulus says something to the snake that reminds Sirius of when their mother would claim she could talk with animals.
“Sirius, pet the snake. He won’t hurt you.” Walburga insisted after a few drinks one evening.
“How do you know?” Sirius was barely four and just came to say goodnight to his parents.
“Because he told me,” Walburga slurred.
“The- the snake?” Sirius’ eyes widened.
There were rumours his older cousins whispered about how people could speak to snakes. Parselmouths, they called them. Bella always said she wanted to speak Parseltongue. She practised daily. Narcissa and Sirius used to tease her when she failed. Now, Bellatrix speaks Parseltongue effortlessly.
“Just touch the snake, son.” Sirius' father sighed, clearly exasperated.
Sirius reached out with a shaky hand. He didn’t even touch the snake before it whipped around and bit him. Sirius screamed. Tears were falling. He flailed his arms around until the snake flew off his arm, across the room. It hit the wall with a ‘thunk!’ The snake didn’t move.
Walburga cried out. “Boy,” Orion started, “you’ve upset your mother. Come here!” Orion companded. Sirius’ feet moved on instinct. Walburga blubbered about the snake. She pulled tissue after tissue from the box floating beside her. Sirius frowned, still too young to be immune to his mothers guilt tripping habits.
He wordlessly held out his hands. Palm up and welcoming. He was ready for his punishment. Sirius faced his father. Orion hit him with the lascero curse five times. New tears rolled down Sirius’ cheeks. He went to bed with blood soaking his sheets that night.
“-rius? Sirius?” Regulus’ voice pulls him out of his memories. Sirius rubbed his left wrist where the snake's teeth marks scarred him. Regulus eyes him knowingly. Sirius mutters an apology and shuts himself in his room across the hall.
Sirius is in a stare off with a nude model. A nude model from the seventies. He originally stuck up these posters seventeen years ago in an attempt to cross his mother. Now, they are just cringey. Sirius should’ve stuck up pictures of male models. Then again, Sirius was scared, even then, to admit he is queer.
A knock on the door sounds. Regulus enters before Sirius can say ‘come in’. A silencing spell fills the air. “Ask.” Regulus perches himself on the arm of the old chair in the corner of the room. Sirius blinks. “Ask what?” Sirius spits.
Regulus doesn’t flinch at his brother's aggressive tone. He stares back at Sirius. “Ask.” Regulus repeats. Multiple emotions come to the surface of Sirius. Rage is one of the first. “Fuck this! Fuck you! Same old Regulus. Always wanting to sit around talking about feelings!” Sirius shoulder checks his brother. It doesn’t work. Sirius stumbles to the side.
Regulus remains emotionless. He steadies his brother with a single hand. Sirius flinches. The small movement seems to be Regulus’ undoing. He drops his brother's arm like it burns and snarls. “I don’t even know why I try to be nice to you! You’re like a rapid, untrained, scared attack dog who’s been kicked one too many times. I understand being locked up in Azkaban was hard for you, I do, but the world kept turning when James and Lily died! Wake up and smell the roses! You didn’t have it the worst!”
Sirius opens his mouth to disagree but Regulus interrupts. “I’m still going. Mary Oblivate’d herself to forget the tragedy of that night, Remus has been drinking himself from overdose to overdose to cope, Harry lives with a target on his back, So many people were affected! If you need to whinge about how your life sucked, call Tawney. But the rest of us? We are too busy trying to sort our shit out to deal with yours.”
Regulus is gasping for air by the end of his rant. Sirius stands there stunned. He feels as if he’s just taken a dozen Unforgivables to the heart. He strings what little information Regulus just word vomited and paints a picture. ‘No!’ he almost yells aloud. The people he thought he would have after escaping, he might not after all.
Mary would treat him like a stranger. Remus might not even recognise him, Harry has the most reason to hate Sirius. Harry hates him. The mere idea almost sends Sirius to his knees.
He collapses down on his bed. “And what about you, Reggie?” Sirius almost whispers. Regulus sighs and walks over to Sirius’ bed. He flops down on the other side of the bed. The two brothers sit in silence, staring up at the ceiling.
Regulus blows out a breath. “I,” He starts, “am holding it together.”
Sirius rolls over onto his stomach. He studies his brothers' barely concealed eye bags and sleepless eyes. “Really?” Sirius whispers.
Regulus laughs a little. Tears rise in his eyes. Regulus covers his face with his hands. “No.” He admits. “I am a fucking wreck.” Sirius is quiet, waiting for his brother to continue. “I mean, I’m better off than others. Evan visits. Rosier.” Sirius tries not to let his disgusts show. Evan Rosier was in Reggie’s year. They are both Slytherins. The two became Deatheaters only a year apart.
“I go over to Lupin’s after fulls to help out.” Regulus says casually. Sirius, however, does a double take. Absolutely no one should know about Remus’ lycanthropy. Regulus isn’t stupid. He has to have figured out what ‘helping Remus after every full moon’ really means. Sirius eyes his brother.
Regulus meets his gaze and rolls his eyes. “C’mon Sirius, his name is Remus Lupin. Wolf wolf. Not very discreet.” Regulus snorts. Sirius gapes at his brother. “He didn’t tell me for four years! And I had to figure it out! What, are you two best friends now?!” Sirius is not feeling remotely jealous right now. Not at all.
“Maybe because Snape already knew.” Regulus narrows his eyes at his brother. Sirius feels heat burn his flesh. He rubs his red cheeks. Old regrets return with a violence.
Remus hadn’t spoken to Sirius in five weeks. Sirius stopped begging him to talk after four. Instead, he pleaded with his eyes. He mouthed apologies in the dark. No, he didn’t beg Remus to speak but Sirius’ remorse was a tangible thing.
He didn’t write that summer. Sirius did. Unanswered letters were delivered to the Lupins everyday. Even James suggested Sirius give Remus space. The latino boy was there for Remus after that night. Sirius pleaded for James' memory and a Pensive in the boys’ nightly conversations.
“Where would you even get a Pensive Pads?” James rubbed his glasses on his pyjama shirt.
“I’ll knick Dumbledore’s! Pleasee James!” Sirius clasps his hands together.
“Pads-”
“James, he won’t even look at me.” Sirius whined. His vision blurred. He averted his eyes from James’. ‘I deserve this. I deserve this. I deserve this-’
“Pads-” James presses his lips together. He’s done great being neutral but it's clear James thinks Sirius deserves what Remus is doing.
Sirius feels himself grow a little bitter. “Nevermind. It’s fine.” Sirius says
“Pads-” James sounds a little guilty. Sirius squashes the satisfaction he feels.
“I’m tired, James.” Sirius forces a yawn.
James nods. “Alright mate.”
Sirius cries himself to sleep that night. ‘I deserve this. I deserve this. I deserve this!’
“Yeah,” Regulus nods. “Low blow.”
Sirius swallows. His throat feels like sandpaper. “Ditto, Reggie.”
The two brothers sit in silence for a while. Regulus giggles. “Merlin, we’re messed up.”
Sirius barks a laugh. “Yeah~” He sings.
More giggling ensues. “I should go. I have to get Harry up tomorrow.” Sirius forgot it was early September. Tomorrow would be when Harry is due to start school.
“Reggie, d’you ever think you’d be a parent?” Sirius asks
Reggie laughs breathlessly, “Not in a million years.”
Sirius chuckles. “Yeah, you seem to be doing good though.” Sirius hums.
Regulus stares up at his brother, unseeingly. “I’m not sure I am.” He whispers.
Same old self deprecating Regulus.