Regulus pushes up into a messy bridge. His hair falls all over his face, the ends of his curls almost brushing the floor. Walburga hasn’t taken either of the brothers for a haircut for as long as Sirius can remember, which Regulus and Sirius both love.
Regulus doesn’t realise that she simply can't be bothered. Sirius knows, but he can't tell little Reggie.
Sirius runs up to Regulus a few seconds later. He laughs when he realises what Regulus is doing. He had taught Regulus how to bridge the previous week, when Walburga had taken them to this park last week. Regulus had been trying a cartwheel, which he hadn’t managed, when Sirius offered him a different option.
“I bet you fall down first,” Sirius laughs. He sits down quickly and pushes up into a neater bridge. It only takes a second or two before he hears a quiet thud and knows that Regulus has fallen down from his bridge. He drops out of his own bridge. “I stayed up longer!” he teases. Regulus, all of six years old, pouts immediately.
“It’s not fair,” he whines. “I started before you.” His lip wobbles, and Sirius wonders very vaguely if he will cry, but Sirius is young too. He is only eight, and simply laughs and runs to the swings. Regulus quickly forgets what he was sad about, and chases after Sirius, albeit far slower. He calls to Sirius when he gets there, “Sirius, can you push me?” he asks.
Sirius grins and hops off his own swing to push Regulus immediately. Within only a few moments, Regulus is swinging to Sirius’s head height- not very high in reality, but to Regulus it felt like he was flying. Sirius runs back to his own seat and kicks himself off quickly. After a few swings, he surpasses Regulus, and keeps swinging higher.
“Hey! You’re going too high Sirius.” Regulus whines as soon as he notices. “I’ll tell Mama.” Sirius groans, convinced for that moment that having a brother is the worst thing in the world.
He gives himself one more swing, and then at the height of an arc, he leaps off. Landing on his feet is easy, and he begins running too the next toy, when he hears a thud and a cry behind him.
He spins immediately, all thoughts of irritation gone. Regulus is crumpled on the floor behind him. He clearly tried to copy Sirius’s leap to freedom but missed and tripped. Sirius runs over immediately and pulls Regulus to a proper sitting position. He gives a little sigh of relief when he sees that Regulus has only grazed his knee. The slight injury is not so small to six-year-old Regulus though, so he begins crying immediately.
“Mama!” he yells in panic. Sirius uses the bottom of his t-shirt to rub the tears from Regulus’s face, even as more fall. Regulus calls again, shouting “Mama!”
Walburga walks over finally from the bench she had been sitting on. She crouches in front of them, black hair falling neatly down to her shoulders, so different to Regulus’s tangles of curls. Her eyes flick quickly over them.
It isan assessing gaze which neither of them are old enough to understand; it is not a look of love; it is a look of calculation.
“What happened?” she asks Sirius. Regulus’s tears have slowed a little with the arrival of Walburga. Sirius swallows, pinned under her harsh gaze.
“He tried to jump off the swing, Mother.” Sirius mumbles. He folds his hands across his stomach, holding himself tightly. “I think he tripped.”
She nods and turns to Regulus, taking his hand. She is always more tender with Regulus, Sirius notices. He gets a harsh stare and Regulus gets soft condolences. Sirius steps out of the way, avoiding Walburga’s eyeline as she whispers to Regulus. Sirius hears a whisper of “Pain only makes you stronger, little prince,” from Walburga, as he turns away to look at the woods behind the park fence.
The evening is approaching, Sirius notices as he stares into the forest. Through the leaves, he can see tiny flecks of moving lights. They light the leaves of the trees around them in an odd starry glow. He stares for a second, mesmerized. They are drifting like the sparks he saw once when they had a bonfire (the bonfire had been staged, for photos in an album, just a cover. Neither boy would realise that one of their best memories had been staged for years to come). He spins to Regulus, who has stood up now and is giving a small tearful smile to their mother.
Sirius exclaims, “Look Reggie, there are stars in the trees!” Regulus spins to the forest immediately and gives a gasp of awe. Walburga purses her lips at Sirius, evidently annoyed at him for most likely interrupting her. She smiles quickly when Regulus tugs on her sleeve.
“What are they, Mama?” he asks, an elated grin on his face. Walburga takes his hand, and Sirius’s as well, talking as she leads them out of the park.
“Well, my boys, they aren’t actually stars.” She explains softly. Sirius squeezes her hand gently, soaking up the warmth as the evening gets quickly colder.
“What are they then?” Regulus exclaims, and he hops up and down on the spot for a second. Walburga laughs.
“I’m just getting to that, my little prince.” She lets go of Sirius’s hand for a second to tap a finger to Regulus’s nose but grabs it back again a moment later.
She smiles, a soft expression, and begins to explain, “Actually, they’re bugs. They're called fireflies, even though they don’t actually burn.” Regulus giggles and looks back at the fireflies. “They do a special chemical reaction,” she continues, “called bioluminescence!”
They walk down the road, leaving the fireflies behind them.
---
“I want chocolate cake for dinner Mama!” Regulus exclaims as they set up the table. Sirius is setting out four plates, two big plates and too small.
He had asked Orion for a big plate once, and Orion had let him; Sirius had been ecstatic, all the way through until Walburga had arrived home and swapped it out immediately.
“Well, I want… Caviar and Champagne.” Walburga answers Regulus. She scrunches her nose and grins at him, and Regulus covers his mouth with his hand and giggles. Sirius places the last plate down with a little more force than maybe necessary, filled with eight-year-old rage.
It dissipates as soon as he hears the front door open. “Dad!” he exclaims, running to the front door. Orion catches him in a hug as soon as he arrives. “It’s dinner time.” Sirius tells him as soon as he is let go. He drags Orion over to one of the big plates and sits down next to him. Regulus is already sat opposite to Sirius, so Sirius aims a small kick at him under the table. He glares at Sirius, his lips in a childish pout, as Sirius sticks his tongue out. Orion adjusts himself in his seat and looks at them, a slightly reprimanding glare. Sirius quickly adjusts his face to look contrite.
Walburga walks in and places a large dish of Pasta Bake in front of them. She begins to divvy it out.
“So, boys,” Orion announces. “What did you do today?” Regulus grins with excitement and starts talking about their visit to the park. The question distracts him easily, but Sirius keeps his attention on their parents. The pair leave the room, having a quiet discussion by the doorway that he can't quite make out. Sirius can see their solemn expressions though, and his stomach clenches. He folds his arms across himself. After a second, they reenter the room.
“Do you boys remember how I promised that we would go on an adventure one day?” Orion asks, a weak smile on his face. A foggy memory emerges in Sirius’s mind -a dark room, full of other little children; they had to be quiet, otherwise it would hurt. He stares at Orion, hoping for reassurance, but Orion doesn’t make eye contact.
Walburga has put on her dark red coat, and tells them, “We’re going on the adventure today.” She holds out their coats to them, light red for Sirius and dark green for Regulus.
Regulus had cried when they first got the coats, wanting a red like Sirius’s and had only stopped when Walburga had assured him that green was better and more grown up.
Regulus had always wanted to grow up.
They both slipped their coats on quickly. Sirius could feel the urgency, even if Walburga hadn’t told them to speed up.
---
They were in the car and pulling away only a minute later. Sirius leans across and straps Regulus into his seat before himself. Regulus still hasn’t noticed that something is wrong, hasn’t noticed that the whole car is silent other than him.
“Can we have the song?” Regulus asks. Walburga is driving, so Orion turns back to squint at him.
“What song, Regulus?” Orion questions.
“You know, you know!” Regulus exclaims. He begins singing in an off key, disjointed warble. “Help me make … uh, something… and of pleasure nothing ever lasts…” his singing fades as he looks around uncertainly. Orion laughs.
“I know what you mean.” He turns back to the front and begins shuffling around in the glove box. “You want Tears for Fears don’t you.” He gives another laugh- quieter this time- as he pulls a CD out and puts it into the car speaker. After a second, the first notes begin to play, quickly followed by the drums. “You’re my boy, aren’t you Regulus. Got a good music taste.”
Regulus grins at the praise, and soon begins swinging his arms about in an odd version of dancing. The music hasn’t stopped the sense of something is wrong from souring Sirius’s mood, so he simply stares out of the window.
‘Welcome to your life.’
‘There’s no turning back.’
Sirius stares back down the road they have come from for a moment, wishing desperately that they could simply turn around and drive back down the road. Return to their house, eat their dinner, go to the park again on the next weekend. Stay where they were, because everything may not have been perfect, but Sirius is sure that it is better than wherever they are going now.
He remembers the dark crowded room again, and how warm it had been- always too warm.
Suddenly, he thinks of Regulus. His little brother, so tiny and delicate, who cries at almost everything. If they take him to the dark room, he will cry for sure, and then they will hurt him. Sirius spins from the window and looks at Regulus, who is still dancing along quietly to the song. Sirius is sure that Regulus never deserves to be hurt. He resolves, there and then, to never let them take Regulus. Orion has taught him how to use a gun, Walburga has shown him how to punch someone. He can protect his brother.
He can't.
He turns and looks back out of the window. The sky is almost entirely dark, only a sliver of yellowish-green brushing the horizon. Dark grey clouds are covering half of the tiny smidge of light. For a second, Sirius thinks of the little fireflies in the forest. They already feel so infinitely far away.
‘Everybody wants to rule the—'
‘Say that you'll never, never, never, never need it’
Sirius hopes desperately that he will not have to protect Regulus. He hopes that this really is an adventure, and they will return as soon as it is done to their little house. Sirius has never been lucky though, and he doubts that he will start to be lucky now.
The car turns off the big road they have been following and down a small side road. It’s a dirt track, lined with trees that block out the last of the light, and it is far bumpier than the last one. The music cuts off abruptly, leaving the whole car in silence. They follow the winding road, headlights only illuminating a few meters ahead.
Orion jerks up, turning and staring behind them.
After a second, he winds down the window. Once it is down, they can all hear what he has heard as well. There is the rumble of another car behind them, loud in this silent night. It’s possible, of course, that someone has simply coincidentally turned down the same road as them. But this late in the evening, when they have been leaving in a hurry?
Orion winds the window back up.
“Turn off the lights and drive faster, Walburga.” He announces quietly. “We’re being followed.” Regulus turns to stare at Sirius in the back of the car, who gives him a tiny shrug. The lights click off, and they are driving in the dark.
They are all thrown to the right as Walburga spins them quickly around a corner. Sirius gives a grunt and Regulus lets out a whimper. Sirius reaches his arm across and holds Regulus’s hand.
The car turns again, and they are thrown to the left. Sirius falls into Regulus with a thud, but quickly rights himself. Regulus is squeezing his hand desperately tight.
Finally, the car turns to a more open field. There is a long road down the middle- a runway, Sirius realises, noticing the plane. To the side of the runway is a shed like building with no door. Walburga brakes quickly to a stop, but she doesn’t turn off the car engine.
“Out!” she shouts after a moment, making Sirius jolt in shock. He unstraps himself and scrambles out of the car quickly. Regulus runs around the back of the car and grabs his hand again. Sirius notices the dim light shining off Regulus’s cheeks and realises that he has been crying silently. He squeezes Regulus’s hand, and Regulus squeezes back.
Once Orion is out of the car, Walburga begins driving again. Sirius can hear the other cars again, and they are definitely getting closer.
“Quick boys, we need to get to the plane.” Orion whispers. He puts a hand on each of their backs, attempting to usher them to the plane, but Regulus twists against him.
“What about Mama?” he squeaks. “She needs to come with us!”
“She will Regulus. Your Mama just needs to put the car in that shed and then she’ll be with us.” Orion explains. He begins trying to usher them to the plane again, and this time Regulus lets him.
They reach the plane and Orion opens the door quickly. The interior is small, but there is enough space for four small seats. Orion lifts Regulus into the plane first, then Sirius. Through the window of the plane, Sirius can see his mother running from the shed over to the plane; she must have parked the car. Orion is about to climb in himself when-
They all hear the spray of gunfire. Regulus screams- or maybe it is Sirius, or maybe it’s both of them. Sirius lunges out of his seat, pressing his face to the glass. He watches Walburga crumple to the ground. He watches his mother- usually so controlled and neat- collapse, as if she has fallen from the height of a swing. Sirius stares for a second, frozen.
She does not move.
“Mother?” he calls quietly, unsure. She is not moving, and Sirius realises abruptly that maybe she is dead. He screams then, “Mama!” and finally Orion moves from the entrance of the plane. He reaches an arm in and presses a button- Sirius is not sure what- but the engine of the plane stutters to life.
“Strap yourself and your brother in Sirius.” Orion tells him in a controlled voice, before he turns and runs.
Sirius chokes in a breath but does as he is told. He pushes Regulus down into his seat and straps him into his seat quickly.
“Is Mama okay?” Regulus asks him quietly. He is sat unusually still and is simply staring at Sirius. It would be impossible to miss the clear terror on Regulus’s face, and Sirius knows he needs to comfort him.
“She’s fine, Reggie, don’t worry.” Sirius lies. He looks out of the window again, but all he can see is the car lights of whoever was following them. He squints for a second, and he can see many figures by the cars, but it is too dark to make out more than that. After a second, Orion is back at the plane door, and he passes the slumped form of Walburga into the passenger seat, before clambering in himself.
He begins pressing buttons on the console, and they start moving, but Sirius is just staring at Walburga. Something is wet and glistening on her neck, a dark red that matches her coat. It takes Sirius a moment to figure out what it is, but then it clicks. There are bloodstains on his Mother’s neck. There are bloodstains on her neck. There are bloodstains on her neck. There are bloodstains on her neck. There are bloodstains on her neck. There are-
Regulus is crying, Sirius notices suddenly. Sirius shuffles over to him and wraps his arms around him. He registers faintly that he never strapped himself in, but it doesn’t matter. The plane jerks off the ground, but it doesn’t matter either. Regulus is crying, and their mother is dead, so he hugs Regulus and stares at his mother and nothing else.
He does not move for hours. Neither does she.
---
Regulus falls asleep at some point on the journey. Sirius does not- he has watched the night fade to pale blue and that blue to dawn and that dawn to the day. He is still awake as the plane lands.
The door is wrenched open by someone Sirius does not know and they take his mother out the plane and lay her on a stretcher. For a second, Sirius wants to protest, but he is tired, and he must protect Regulus. He shakes Regulus awake gently. Regulus’s eyes blink open. His eyes flick over their surroundings.
“Where are we?” he whispers to Sirius. Orion is beckoning them out of the plane now so Sirius hauls Regulus into his arms the best he can and pulls him out of the plane.
“I don’t know Reg, but I’ll protect you.” He whispers as he moves. Orion lifts Regulus out of Sirius’s arms once they are out of the plane and sets him on the ground. Sirius steps in front of Regulus carefully and looks around.
They are on some sort of landing area, surrounded by soldiers. Men in green suits holding guns in their arms. Some of them have Walburga on a stretcher and are carrying her away. Sirius wants to speak, to ask what they are doing to her or where she is going, but he needs to make sure that Regulus is okay. There is nothing more important.
“Will Mama be okay?” Regulus asks as soon as he spots her, and Sirius wants to scream. Can’t Regulus see how important it is to be quiet right now, to not draw attention?
He can, even at six years old, but he is too worried about Walburga to care about himself.
Orion crouches down beside Regulus to comfort him, saying, “She’ll be fine, Regulus. The doctors here are the best.” Regulus gives a small nod, uncertain, and reaches for Sirius’s hand. Sirius takes it and stares at Orion. He doesn’t trust that Orion was telling the truth. Walburga had seemed quite dead to him.
“Uncle Orion!” calls a voice from across the landing area. A woman is marching over, tall and commanding looking. Sirius’s eyes are drawn immediately to her boots, magnificent black combat boots. He wants a pair of them himself one day.
She reaches them and stands with her arms spread in front of Orion. After a few seconds stood waiting, she speaks again. “What, no hug for little Bella, Uncle?” she gives him an odd grin- Sirius isn’t sure why, but it seems fake. “Oh well,” she laments, “You used to be more fun.”
“Where are Cygnus and Druella?” Orion asks harshly. Something in Sirius’s gut twists- this ‘Bella’ doesn’t feel like someone you should be rude to. He grips Regulus’s hand more tightly and looks back to make sure that he is still there.
“Oh, didn’t you hear?” she asks, with a tone that makes Sirius sure that she already knows the answer. “Druella and Cygnus both died, and I’m in charge now.”
“How did they die?”
“Oh, that’s just semantics, Uncle!” Bella laughs. “All that’s important is that you give the records to me.” The smile falls off her face, and Sirius takes a step back. “Now.”
Orion reaches slowly into his pocket and draws out- well Sirius isn’t entirely sure what, but it looks important. He hands it to Bella, whose smile comes right back out as if it had never left. She hands the thing to one of the soldiers and turns back to them.
“Perfect!” Bella claps her hand and smiles. “Now, you need to reintroduce me to the little ones, we haven’t seen each other in ages.” She crouches down in front of Sirius and offers her hand. He resists the urge to step back- sure that it would be a bad idea- and shakes her hand. “You must be Sirius!” she exclaims. “I’m your cousin, Bellatrix, but you can call me Bella.” She pulls him from the handshake into a short hug.
“Hi” he mutters quietly. She coos at him, and he resists the urge to fold his arms across his chest.
“And where’s Regulus then?” She asks. Sirius steps to the side just enough for her to be able to see Regulus, and no further. Bellatrix waves at him, and beckons. “Come closer, I don’t bite.” She bares her teeth in a grin, and Sirius wonders if that really is true.
Regulus seems to have had the same thought as Sirius, because he steps back from Bella. She frowns and waves a flippant hand to one of the soldiers.
“Bring him to me.” She orders, and one of the soldiers steps forwards to take Regulus away from Sirius.
That is when all hell breaks loose.
Sirius spins immediately towards the soldier. Walburga has taught him to throw a punch and he uses that now, hitting him in the jaw. The punch probably didn’t have much force to it, but it is enough to startle the man. Sirius knows full well that he cannot beat the man just by hitting him, so he does something else. He yanks the pistol from the man’s holster and aims it straight at him.
“Touch him and I’ll shoot!” Sirius shouts, and there is not one inch of him that is bluffing. He can hear another soldier trying to circle him and he spins quickly with the gun. “If you take him, I will kill you all.” He pulls Regulus closer against him and glares all around them. Bellatrix is watching him with an expression he can't discern, although he doesn’t think that it’s anger, as he would have expected. She says something to Orion, who nods and walks over to the pair.
Sirius points the gun straight at Orion, but his hands are shaking. “Stay- Stay back.” He commands, but there is a definite tremor in his voice. Orion keeps walking closer until the tip of the gun is pressed to his chest.
“You would not shoot me, would you, my boy?” Orion whispers to him. One of his hands reaches out and covers the gun, pulling it out of his hands. Sirius clenches his now empty hands into fists and stares at Orion, who reaches out to cup his face. “It is alright,” he consoles, “This is the best path for you both.”
Sirius opens his mouth to ask what he means, but then he feels something sharp press itself into his neck. A syringe. There are soldiers behind him- of course there are, how could he have forgotten- and they are taking Regulus. He turns to fight, but his limbs feel like jelly, and he collapses into Orion’s arms.
The last thing he sees is not Regulus, or Walburga, or even Orion. It is Bellatrix staring at him as if he is a puzzle she is longing to solve. She notices him staring.
She laughs.
Sirius remembers nothing else.
---
Regulus fights as hard as he can to hold on Sirius, but they are being ripped apart. Sirius’s hand slips out of his, and between one second and the next he vanishes, leaving Regulus alone.
A recuring theme, Regulus will later learn.
---
15 years later
---
Even though Sirius isn’t an assassin (anymore), he can't seem to catch a break from the Order of the Phoenix agents attempting to capture him.
Sirius snorts. Attempting is a kind way to put it, he thinks; they are failing miserably. Considering they are a top-secret government agency, he would have expected them to be better at this.
At very least, he would have expected them to be searching for him in the correct country. It is honestly embarrassing for them, in Sirius’s humble opinion. California is in no way close to France.
Sirius had been in California a week ago, to be fair- to visit his best friend, James. They had spent the time together surfing, and bowling, and dancing, and all the things Sirius had missed out on during his teenage years.
The waves had been a quiet rhythm in the background as Sirius had sat on his balcony, awake, even at midnight. He couldn’t sleep and didn’t want to wake James, and so had resigned himself to a night of quiet nostalgia.
His youth wasn’t something Sirius wanted to repeat, he had thought, but if he had to, he would choose to redo it with James. Make good memories instead of the decade of training and killing, fighting and blood. Maybe Regulus would even be with them, Sirius had mused, that evening. It has been years since Sirius had left the Red Room- destroying it completely in the process- and thinking of Regulus has become far more uncommon, reserved to late nights alone and the days he is reminded of his past.
After they had been torn apart, so many years ago now, they had been kept apart. It was months after they had been brought to the Red Room before Sirius had found out Regulus was even alive. He had learned it from the small glimpses of him across the corridor as their classes had been driven past each other. Small moments of silent eye contact, blank expressionless faces, never even turning their heads form their places. The first few times, Regulus would stare at him eyes wide with fear that only Sirius could see. Over the years, the expressions had faded, or maybe Sirius simply stopped being able to recognize the fear.
The recognition kept fading until the only reason Sirius had been able to tell that Regulus still recognized him at all was the tiny flicks of his eyes. To Sirius for a second, then back ahead. Glimpses, and nothing more.
The glimpses had always hurt, to Sirius. They had been a reminder of the perfect life he had lost. A reminder of the brother he couldn’t keep. He had hoped for and dreaded the glimpses, for the reminder that there was more to life than the walls of the Red Room. More to life, even if they never saw it.
They had known the risks, and followed the set paths, never deviating, all the way until Sirius decided to run in the opposite direction.
These had been their only interactions for thirteen years, all the way until Sirius had left and torn the cages up behind him. Hopefully Regulus had run free through the hole in the bars. That’s what Sirius had believed. What he had hoped for.
He had never gotten around to checking. Sirius wasn’t sure how to check up on someone he hadn’t known for fifteen years.
His small phone screen is rested sideways against the bathroom mirror as Sirius does his hair- which has grown past his shoulders by now. He is braiding the top half out of his face, glancing between his phone screen and the mirror.
Movement on the phone screen draws his gaze from the mirror. He ties the bobble on his wrist- one of many- to the end of his plait before picking up the phone.
On the screen, a series of armed soldiers are running across the screen. Sirius recognises the pillars in the background as the lobby of the hotel he had been staying in. They must have finally gotten around to ‘capturing’ him, a week too late.
He swipes a finger across the screen, switching the security footage to show the front of the hotel.
Moody is immediately visible, stood directly in front of the hotel, radiating so much smugness that Sirius almost laughs. Moody has always been overconfident; Sirius has thought so on many occasions. The man- a high ranking officer of the Order- has been chasing Sirius for the past two years.
Ever since Sirius left the Red Room and became more visible to the public- as in able to be out and about for more than just missions- he had not been left alone. If Sirius had stayed anywhere too long, Moody and his little group of incompetent gunmen had shown up. It hadn’t taken Sirius long to pick up on the pattern, and it hadn’t taken him much longer after that to begin making a sport of it.
To add to the fun of the situation, last week while staying with James, Sirius had managed to get Moody’s phone number. He had asked one of James’s friends, a man named Peter, who had helped Sirius escape the Red Room in the first place. He was a talented hacker and had been invaluable in hiding Sirius and James as they escaped.
Sirius had offered him money in exchange for the number, but Peter had refused, telling Sirius that he ‘just wanted to fuck withMoody’.
Sirius slipped the burner phone from his pocket- which he had purchased just to safely mock Moody- and entered his number. With a quick glance to the screen to ensure that Moody hadn’t moved, Sirius pressed call.
After a second, the Moody on the camera fumbled for his pocket. Sirius held the burner phone to his ear, a smirk already pulling at his lips.
“Hello?”
The voice is gruff in the receiver, and quite irritated-sounding, Sirius notes with glee.
“Hello, Moody.” Sirius mutters into the receiver cheerily. “I hear you were looking for me.” The Moody on the screen looks around, clearly nervous. Sirius smiles. “You know, all you had to do was ask, Moody.” He needles.
“Sirius Black?” Moody asks.
“The one and only, at your service.” Sirius announces, and has to resist the urge to bow mockingly, aware that Moody can't see him.
“Ask a murderer like you to just give himself up?” Moody exclaims angrily.
“Yeah, why not?” Sirius asks, and then giggles, just to incense Moody more, and adds, “It is polite, you know.”
“As if you would give yourself up.” Moody spits. Sirius watches Moody’s figure spin around on the screen angrily, and smirks.
Sirius tells him, “Well, you’ll never know if you don’t try.” Amusement laces his voice. On the screen, Moody very obviously scowls.
Moody growls, “Why on earth do you think I would believe you would give yourself up.” Sirius grimaces at the ugly sound, and holds the phone a bit further away, as if the spit Moody was almost certainly giving out could reach him. It isn’t enough to dissuade him from his needling, if anything, it makes Sirius want to tease him more.
“I’m a man ruled by my passions Moody, haven’t you noticed?” Sirius croons into the burner phone. To be fair, it isn’t even a lie- Sirius has loved to break the rules, ever since he received the freedom to do so. Even this call now is just messing around, making up for his lost youth. Perhaps Regulus is making up for his--
Sirius cuts the thought off there and focuses back on Moody.
“If by that you mean you’re a murderer, then yes, I have noticed.” Moody sneers the term, and Sirius can see him glare at his phone screen. For a moment, Sirius cannot breathe.
Sirius used to feel very guilty for the lives he had taken. He would sit with James and cry, he would flinch at the implication of monstrosity, he would blame himself for everything he had done. It was James who had helped him to acknowledge that it was not his fault. It has taken Sirius a few years, but he has finally mostly accepted that the past was not his fault. He has his bad days- of course he does- but things are a lot better now. And he is not going to allow Moody to ruin that for him today.
Sirius takes a breath and laughs into the receiver.
“Now, now, Moody.” On the screen, Moody has not moved at all, unaware of the moment Sirius had a second ago. Sirius keeps going, determined not to let Moody gain any ground. “That was years ago. I can't believe you’re holding it against me.”
On the screen, a younger man with dark hair approaches Moody and tells him something. Moody smiles- evidently, he believes it’s good news, Sirius thinks.
“Give it up, Black, you’re just diverting because you know you’ve been caught.” Moody crows into the receiver, and Sirius almost laughs. He wants to force Moody to say please though, so he decides to save it for the right moment. Instead, he just mocks a little further.
“Really, Moody? You’re about to catch me now, when you never have before?”
“Yes.” Moody says, certainty in his tone. Sirius can see the smug bastard on the screen, and he relishes his next words.
“Why don’t you check in with your people? Maybe that young man you were just speaking to?” Sirius watches Moody twitch, then flounder on the screen, and he smirks again. “See if they’ve found me yet, in that room on the third floor of the hotel, which you’re so sure I’m inside.”
Panic immediately covers Moody’s face. He turns and hurries in the direction of the young man, leaving Sirius’s phone screen. Sirius swipes through a few other camera viewpoints, but Moody is not immediately visible. The receiver on the burner phone crackles again for a second, telling Sirius that the call hasn’t been muted.
After a moment, fragments of sentences can be heard. The words sound far away from the receiver and Sirius can only make out about half of it.
“Have you found-”
“He’s not there? What do you mean, he must-”
“Goddamn!”
Sirius grins at himself in the bathroom mirror and makes a mental note to thank Peter again for the number. Finally, Moody returns to the phone screen, looking exhausted. Sirius hears Moody’s voice again through the burner phone.
He mutters, “Well played, Black,” then straightens up on the screen. “We’ll have you soon.” Moody tells Sirius.
“You will, will you?” Sirius laughs into the phone.
“Of course.” Moody calls, “The Order will always succeed, you monster!”
In that moment, a part of Sirius clenches up. The word fits Sirius like a glove. He has shot and murdered dozens of people, without remorse or care. Sirius had only learned remorse after he left, and it never felt good enough. He is and has always been a monster.
Sirius nearly buckles under the word. He has learned, though, to never let an enemy get an advantage in a fight. Moody will not beat him. Sirius refuses.
Smile wiped from his face, Sirius responded still spoke with faux cheer, saying, “With those manners?” He wrinkled his face. “Eesh.”
“Just you wait,” Moody spat.
“You could just ask politely,” Sirius offered.
“What,” spat Moody. “Dear Sirius Black, please give yourself up to the Order of the Phoenix, thank you, signed Officer Moody.”
“Yes exactly!” Sirius exclaimed, making sure the patronising edge to his voice was audible. “You’re getting it. Just with less sarcasm, and I’m sure it will work!”
“Please give yourself up to the Order,” Moody tells him. Sirius can see him glaring into his phone on the video and he relishes it.
“Say pretty please,” Sirius orders cheerily.
“No!” Moody exclaims angrily. Sirius watches him gesture angrily on the screen and has to resist laughing.
“It’s been years and you haven’t caught me Moody,” Sirius points out. “You wouldn’t leave a murderer on the lose when you could do something, would you?”
“As if this would help,” Moody mutters sullenly.
“You’ll never know until you try it,” Sirius tells him, stifling his laugh.
“I will not sink so low as to beg a murderer,” Moody growls. “We will get you.”
“And what if I killed more people?” Sirius suggested off-handedly. “It’s been years, but I’m sure I can still do it.” He wouldn’t really, not at all, but Moody doesn’t have to know that.
“You wouldn’t,” Moody says, but he sounds unsure, and a glance at his phone shows Sirius Moody’s panicked expression.
“Come on Moody,” Sirius calls tantalisingly. “All you need to say is pretty please, and I might give myself up.”
There is a long, crackling pause, and then: “Pretty please?”
Sirius hums, then says, “no, I don’t really feel like it,” and he hangs up the phone.
---
Regulus stares through the sight of his rifle at the woman in the house across the street. Andromeda, her name is- or so he has been told. She moves in and of the range of the window, making herself tea.
The building she stands in is called the Bir Nazarian technically. Regulus found this out from the information file he had been presented with, though apparently the name has fallen out of use. The building sits on the Rue Nabulus, the street which is separating Regulus and Andromeda right now. He doesn’t know who she is, or what warranted her assassination, but he doesn’t particularly care. Bellatrix wouldn’t have sent one of her best assassins to Morocco without reason.
Regulus watches Andromeda set herself down at the table after a minute, mug in hand. He eyes her carefully through the sight, perched like a bird on a balcony on the building across from the Bir Nazarian. Any second now-
“Target in sight, Regulus?” Dorcas’s voice crackles through his radio.
Regulus is the head of this mission- whether that is because he is Bellatrix’s favourite or because he has been the best assassin in the Red Room for the past ten years, he isn’t sure. Dorcas is guarding their escape route and keeping a look out, and Regulus is going to take the shot.
Regulus doesn’t move his gaze from Andromeda as he responds simply, “Yes.”
“Fire in ten seconds.” Dorcas tells him crisply. Andromeda has stood up from her table, but Regulus can hit a moving target with ease after his years of practice. He moves his finger to the trigger and follows Andromeda across the room she is in with the tip of his gun. His mental countdown has reached five when someone enters the room and Andromeda grabs a small case from the table and moves out of the window.
“Shit.” He mutters. He turns on his radio. “Dorcas, the target has moved out of sight.” He blinks for a second, staring down at the empty room, before the radio crackles to life again.
“Regulus, I can see Andromeda entering the street.” Dorcas tells him. He moves immediately from his crouch and turns his radio on again.
“I’m pursuing on foot.” He replies concisely. Turning quickly, he leaves the balcony he had been crouched on. The room behind it is nicely furbished- usually, this is is a holiday let house. The Death Eaters had rented it out for this assassination, everything already set out for Dorcas and Regulus when they arrived, including weapons. He puts his sniper rifle down on the bed, switching it for a small pistol.
Regulus runs out of the room and down the flight of stairs to the street.
“Dorcas, I need directions.” He calls into the radio.
“Down the street you’re on, turn right, and then immediately left.” She tells him. He starts jogging down the street straight away. “And Regulus,” she continues, “The street she’s on is a blind spot. I won't be able to see or help you.”
Regulus turns to the right and spots the left turning. It is immediately obvious why Dorcas won't be able to see him- the street is narrow and cramped, without room for even a car.
“I see her.” He tells Dorcas. Andromeda is near the end of the other road, walking with her head down, but Regulus recognises the dark curls and jacket. “I’m going in.” he mutters to Dorcas, then starts down the street at a quiet jog. He is only about ten meters from Andromeda when she notices him. She glances back at him with obvious panic on her face and starts sprinting.
It is an easy problem to fix, Regulus thinks as he lifts the pistol. He fires quickly, hitting her in the thigh. She crumples immediately, and Regulus runs up to her, ready to finish the job. However, before he has aimed, she spins from the floor, kicking the gun from his hand. He frowns. Apparently, she isn’t as helpless as she had seemed.
He draws a knife from his belt and lunges at her. Andromeda catches his hand and pulls him easily behind her. She is fast, he realises.
He spins, attempting to slash again, but she is still holding his arm away from him. Regulus feints, trying to pull her hand away from his, but changing course at the last minute to backhand Andromeda across the face. She gives a gasp and loosens her grip on his knife hand for a moment. Before he can use that to his advantage and free his hand, however, she uses her other arm to pull him off balance, then kicks his leg when he stumbles.
Regulus is knocked to the floor, and he pulls Andromeda with him as he goes but cracks his head hard against the wall of the alleyway.
Regulus blinks, disorientated.
The street sways slightly beneath him.
Darkness is crawling across his vision.
There is a ringing in his ears.
‘Pain is just a barrier to completing the mission.’ It has been drilled into his head since he first entered the Red Room at six years old. The pain in his head is dizzying, and he may have a concussion, but he pushes it down to continue with the mission. He forces his focus from the pain in his head to the woman next to him.
He rolls over and pulls Andromeda into a headlock, reaching with his free hand for the knife that fell to the ground when they collapsed. It takes him a second to realise his mistake in leaving Andromeda’s hands free, but by then she has managed to push herself up off the ground and flip the pair over. He is face down on the floor in a moment, one hand in front of him scrabbling for the knife. Andromeda uses one hand to push his head down, curling her fingertips into his close-cropped hair and pulling.
Regulus gives a grunt, his face pressed to the ground, but he has finally found the knife. He reaches behind his head and manages to slice her hand.
Andromeda lets out a harsh gasp behind him, and he smiles at the sound.
Regulus twists his neck and shoves her hand off his head. She has managed to straddle his back already and he can do little more than turn his head and use his knife hand. He notices a small red tube in Andromeda’s hand, and she point it at him. Regulus is frozen for a second, unsure what to do, when he remembers her shot leg abruptly and bashes the hilt of his knife against where he estimates the wound is.
Judging by the choked groan behind him and the looseness of her hold on him, it was a hit. He uses Andromeda’s weakness to push her off him and lifts himself to a lunge, before he spins and stabs the knife through her ribs. Just as he does, she thrusts something to his face, and there is an explosion of red across his vision.
Odd red dust settles over his face and chest, and he rubs his eyes on instinct. The dust sends a cold shiver through his body, a full shudder. Regulus feels his gaze slip out of focus and he falls from his lunge back to the ground. Part of it got is his mouth, an arid, burning, dry powder. He coughs harshly, trying to clear it from his throat.
Something is wrong.
Regulus looks down at his hands, forcing his eyes to focus. The light seems harsher suddenly, as though a gauze has been lifted from his eyes. As though the world had been in black and white for- well almost as long as he could remember- and now it was in screaming colour. His eyes flit around the street for a moment, before looking down.
There is a small spatter of blood across his left hand, the one he had been holding the knife with. The knife is missing, and he looks around for a moment before he realises it is still in Andromeda’s chest. It clicks then, in his head, that he has just murdered someone. He had driven the- his knife into someone’s chest with the intent to kill. Andromeda’s life is about to end because of him. Many people’s lives already had.
His breath hitches in his chest, and it takes him a long moment to move again. It is Andromeda’s hoarse, rattling breath that pulls him from his mind and back to the present. Regulus turns to look at her.
“No- Andromeda are you… I’m sorry.” He whispers, reaching out to her. A soft sob forces its way from his chest and out of his mouth. Regulus stares down at her. The knife is buried in Andromeda’s heart. She will be unconscious any minute, he knows, and dead soon after. There is nothing Regulus can do. Another sob bubbles up from his chest, and he closes his eyes.
His eyes flick back open when he feels something pressed to his hand. It is a small case- the one from the apartment that Andromeda had taken from the table, he realises after a long moment. Regulus stares at her, and realises she is trying to say something. He leans closer.
“Run.” She whispers to him.
He stares at her, unsure what she means. After a second, her eyes flutter shut. Blood is still oozing from the chest wounds, so he knows she is still alive. He blinks a few times, staring down at her.
A minute passes, maybe two, before his radio gives a short burst of static. Dorcas’s voice comes crackling through to him, and he registers suddenly how cold it is.
“Regulus, mission report. Is the target dead?” Dorcas asks.
He realises then what Andromeda meant by run.
Regulus needs to leave. He needs to get far away from the Red Room. He needs to escape the assassinations, the murder, the blood on his hands. The spatter of blood across his left knuckle.
“Come in, Regulus. Is she dead?” Dorcas speaks again.
There is a tracker in his thigh, Regulus remembers. It needs to be out before he can escape, but his knife is still in Andromeda’s chest.
“I’m sorry.” Regulus whispers as he pulls the knife out of her chest. He wipes it quickly on the bottom of his shirt to clean Andromeda’s blood off.
He pushes the blade into his left thigh, letting out a small cry as he does. His breath is coming in short, sharp breaths. He feels the tip of the knife hit the tracker and pulls the knife out. The cut isn’t too deep, only about an inch, but it hurts like a bitch already. The knife clatters to the ground.
Regulus digs his finger into the wound and tugs the tracker out. His eyes are watering as he throws the small chip to the ground.
He lifts the small case from Andromeda, and staggers to his feet.
His past is left down the small street. His past is a small tracker covered in blood, and a dead body. His past is a used gun discarded on the ground and a knife covered in two people’s
blood. His past is the radio on his shoulder, which he drops to the ground as he walks, crackling with Dorcas’s voice.
He walks out of the street and into the future.
---