promises, oceans deep

19th July, 1976

The house is completely silent, save for the sound of wind whistling through the cracked-open windows. The warm summer air is heavy and suffocating - pressing down uncomfortably on Sirius’ chest. His room is lit only by the dull glow of the crescent moon. 

It’s been two weeks since the school term ended and Sirius is exhausted. His mother has been after him at every corner, finding new reasons to hate him with every breath that he takes. His body hurts in places he didn’t know it could. He’s tired.

It was dinner this evening that confirmed to Sirius that he would have to leave this place, or he would most certainly die. Mother had sat down across from him at the dinner table, as she always did, with Orion sat stoically at the head and Reg on Sirius’ left. She had stared at him for a long, silent moment, an edge in her eyes that Sirius had never seen before. His hair had stood completely on end as he refused to look away. Then, after what felt like hours had passed, she did something that she hadn’t done since Sirius’ recent memory.

She smiled.

A warm smile that caused her sharp grey eyes to turn soft, like moonlight.

“Eat up, Sirius.” She had murmured, dropping her gaze once more.

Sirius isn’t sure why this was the catalyst but his gut has been screaming at him to run ever since. He hasn’t been able to catch a breath all evening and his hands have taken on a relentless tremor. He has to leave. He has to leave or she shall kill him. 

He takes in a long breath, choking on it as it fails to properly fill his lungs. Relishes in the softness of his bed. Takes in the way the moonlight falls upon the photos on his walls. Accepts his last night in this wretched, haunted house. 

The loud laughter of some rowdy passers-by startles him into action.

Sirius creeps around his room - piling school textbooks, letters, photographs with his friends, warm clothes and James’ mirror onto his bed. He knows that he should probably give James a heads-up but he can’t risk speaking into the silence of the night. Grasping his wand tightly, Sirius casts an Extension Charm on his school suitcase, before briskly filling it with his most precious belongings. 

An ache fills his chest as he realises that there is nothing much else in his bedroom of any worth to him. There is nothing else tying him to this room, other than the memories of a much younger he and Regulus laughing and playing together. And, well, he can’t really pack those. 

After giving his room a once-over to determine whether he missed anything, Sirius leaves his childhood bedroom for the last time. 

Out on the hallway, Sirius feels far more exposed. His bare feet are cold on the ground. The moon lights his path. He breathes in, once again choking on the lack of air in his lungs. He presses forward.

He knows that the third step down the staircase is particularly creaky, and that the bannister won’t support his weight once he’s halfway down. He knows the maze of this house, the obstacles that he must pass in order to escape. 

He gets only as far the top of the stairs before a voice sounds behind him:

“What are you doing?”

Sirius’ heart is in his throat as he whips round to face his younger brother. Regulus is stood behind him, with his arms crossed over his chest - though his sleep-mussed hair ruins the intimidating effect. His lips are pursed and his brows are furrowed, confrontational. 

“Reg, I…”

“You’re leaving me, then.”

Sirius’ face goes slack as he takes a step forward, “No, no, Reg, I’m not leaving you. I’m leaving them , I’m leaving her !”

Regulus shakes his head, eyes scornful, “That’s the same thing.”

“It’s not, Reg, you have to believe that it’s not.”

His brother just stares at him, anger slowly giving way to hurt and betrayal. He shakes his head, “You’re being a coward, Sirius. You’re fleeing like a coward.”

“Regulus, if I stay here, I’m going to die. She’s going to kill me.” Sirius chokes out, past the relentless pressure in his throat. Embarrassingly, tears prick in his eyes as he gazes at his younger brother. Who gazes back, pale eyes wide. The two of them just stand, air static and still. No different to the two children who chased each other through these halls, tiny hands clasped tightly together. If Sirius listens hard, he can still hear the echoes of their laughter. 

Regulus swallows hard, “I don’t- I’m-”

“You know I’m right.” Sirius interjects, voice barely a whisper. He is right and they both know it. Can feel it in the air. 

The fight leaves Regulus as he accepts the truth, folding into himself like a wilting flower. He meets Sirius’ gaze once more, grief glistening in his eyes, “Go, then.”

Sirius surges forward, hand reaching for his brother, “Reg, you know I’m not leaving you. You have to know that. You’re not like them, you’re not ruined. Not like them, not like me. You’re not ruined and I would never leave you. It’s not you. I’m not leaving you.”

Regulus nods at his nonsensical rambling, though his eyes are hard and doubtful. The trust that was once between them has been long broken and Regulus does not believe him. Sirius continues, “When I come of age, you can leave too and stay with me. Okay? I’m not leaving you, not forever. You’re going to live with me, where we can both be safe. I promise. Promise me you’ll come with me then? Please.”

He’s worked himself up, now - each word rattling in his rotten chest. He needs his brother to believe him so desperately that he fears his heart might give out. Regulus appeases him with a nod and a squeeze of his hand and a whispered, “Okay. I promise”

“We can live together, just wait a little bit longer.”

“Okay.”

“I’ll come back for you, Reg. Believe me.”

“I believe you.”

They both know that it’s a lie. Though Sirius isn’t sure which part.

“I love you.” Sirius wheezes out, hands trembling where they now clutch his suitcase.

“You should go.”

“Reg.”

“I love you, too. Go.”

-

30th October, 1979

It’s raining when the Black brothers Apparate to Grimmauld Place.

Their childhood home looms up in front of them, the sky dark with clouds. Lightning flashes suddenly, silhouetting the wretched building in bright light. Like it's a ghost, a shadow. 

Sirius grins widely, “Fitting.”

Regulus just glares at him, water running down his nose, “Shut up. I’d still prefer it if I went in by myself.”

Merlin, the little git won’t stop. Yesterday, he wouldn't shut up about how he’ll be more efficient alone, Sirius, I can’t have you slowing me down. What nonsense. Sirius is aware that it's just a pisspoor excuse for Sirius to not have to confront all that he left behind, that Regulus is actually trying to protect him. But Sirius has let Regulus cross the threshold of this rotten house alone one too many times and it's time he righted it. 

“Oh, just let us in, Regulus, I’m getting bloody soaked.”

Regulus just watched him for a long moment, face imperceptibly blank, before stepping forwards to open the front door. 

All at once, Sirius is 16 again. The tightness in his lungs is back so fast that he’s convinced that he’s never taken a full breath in all his years of living. Goosebumps line his arms and neck as the thought overtakes his mind, screaming that this is a very very bad idea. 

“Sirius?” Regulus murmurs, twisted in the entryway of the house to frown back at him, “Are you coming?”

Sirius clears his throat and nods, pushing past his brother into his childhood home. 

Everything is the same. The air is thick and heavy, that familiar musky scent hangs in the atmosphere. The hallways stretch endlessly to his left and right, dark and shadowy. It’s silent besides the sound of his own breathing and the hum of the rain pattering on the misted windows. It's all so familiar, so achingly familiar. 

A hand circles his wrist, “Come on, brother.”

Regulus leads him through the maze of the house, as though Sirius is a stranger to the layout of these walls. Maybe he is. 

The pair of them creep slowly, padding silently across the wooden floorboards. Regulus never lets go of Sirius’ wrist. He’s not really sure why they're seeking around like this; Regulus has reassured him that Walburga Black is practically catatonic, sick with grief over her late husband.

Sirius had read about the funeral in the Daily Prophet. 

Regulus stops outside his bedroom, “Right. You need to hide here while I track down the teeth. Don’t speak, don’t move, just stay here.”

“What?” Sirius exclaims, throwing up his hands, “That’s such a boring job! Why did you even invite me?”

Regulus turns to him, incredulous, “I didn’t invite you, Sirius, you insisted on coming! Now you get the boring job of staying in here and finding a place to hide this:”

He holds out a bundle of cloth, the material dark against his pale hand. 

“What's that?”

“The Locket.”

“What?! Why would you bring it here?!”

Regulus rolls his eyes, “Because no one will think to look here and I can have Kreacher look after it. Obviously.”

Sirius nods in begrudging acceptance, “Fine. But you should really start telling me about every detail of your plans because I can’t deal with more nasty little surprises.”

“I’ll tell you my full plans when you fix your attention span enough to pay attention for more than thirty seconds.” Regulus snarks, shoving the covered Horcrux into Sirius’ hand, “See, even now, you’re looking off into the distance as if this isn’t the most important thing you’ll ever do.”

“What? I’m focused.”

“You’re ridiculous. Stay here, hide the Locket.” And with that, he scurries off down the hall.

Now alone, Sirius can’t suppress the urge to do a full-body shudder any longer. His bones feel like they’re trying to break out of his skin, like there’s a million fire ants crawling beneath his flesh. He can’t think of another time where he’s ever felt so…rotten.

That’s the effect of 12 Grimmauld Place, it rots you from the inside out. It wraps its dark, shadowy fingers around your mind until you decay and fester and spoil.

Sirius can’t remember it ever being so powerful, though all the years away have probably chipped away at his immunity. His tolerance to Grimmauld has shrunk and now he’s here with no armour. He’s floating away again, drifting…

Thunder crashing outside startles him back into his body. Air suddenly fills Sirius’ lungs. Right. He has a job to do.

He pushes into Regulus’ old room, neat and tidy as always. He scans the space for a place to hide the Locket, anywhere that can hold something this dangerous safely. 

Bingo, he smiles as he spots a shoebox resting on top of Regulus’ wardrobe. Sirius reaches for it, tugging it down into his hands. Luckily, there’s nothing of value in there, just a pair of shiny, clean loafers that Regulus grew out of. After tucking the wrapped Horcrux in between the shoes, Sirius puts it back on its resting place, immediately feeling lighter now that it's out of his grip. He settles on Regulus’ bed, victorious in the completion of his duty.

It’s ten minutes before he grows restless. 

Against his better judgement, Sirius pokes his head out of the doorway, scanning down each end of the hallway for any sign of his brother. Merlin, how long does it take to find some teeth?

He shudders at the thought. I mean, teeth ? Really?

Ignoring every instinct telling him to stay put, Sirius pads down the hall in search of his brother. Would he have gone to Mother’s bedroom? The library? The music room?

He gets his answer as he suddenly hears a rusting coming from the sun room, Padfoot’s advanced hearing coming in useful. He approaches the room, relief loosening his chest at the thought of no longer being alone in this wretched building. 

“Reg, thank Merlin. I thought you had disappeared-”

He stops short, heart stuttering in his chest.

“My darling boy. You’re home!”

Walburga Black is sat in Sirius’ favourite leather armchair, frail and small. The sun pouring in from the tall windows lights up her translucent, thin skin. Her face is a web of blue veins. Her clawed hands are clutching at her heart.

Sirius can’t make a sound. 

“Come closer, sweet. Let me look at you. My beautiful boy.”

As if pulled by string, Sirius edges towards his mother. Up close, her eyes are milky and her whole body trembles as if stood in a chill. Sirius doesn’t think he’s blinked in the last minute. 

Her shaking hand reaches for his wrist, just as Regulus’ had only half an hour ago. 

She smiles.

“Oh, my son is finally home. My star.”

He sinks to his knees beside her. He thinks he might be crying. Her hand brushes his cheek.

“Sirius, my darling boy. How I've missed you.”

When Sirius was really little, he had wished every single night that his mother would speak to him like this. That she would gush of her love for him. That she would hold his hand, like he had seen other mothers do to their little boys.

By the time he was 7, he had given up. 

Someone who had hurt him so much would not hold his hand. 

But now, Walburga touches him with all the love and tenderness of Euphemia Potter. She whispers of how she’s missed him terribly. She smiles in a soft way that crinkles the taut skin around her eyes. 

Sirius feels sick, he feels so sick. 

“Why are you crying, darling?” She frowns, swiping at the tears escaping his eyes, “Is something wrong?”

Yes, yes, yes! he wants to scream. Yes, of course something is wrong! 

Before he can make his mouth shape some kind of coherent sound, a shuffling behind him draws his attention away from his mother. Regulus is stood in the doorway, hand outstretched, “Come on, Sirius. Let’s go.”

Sirius feels paralysed for a moment. Almost every part of him is urging him to go with his brother, to run away from the danger. But the six-year-old inside him pleads for him to stay, stay with Mother. Look how kind she’s being, isn’t this what we wanted?

“Sirius, come on. It’s okay.” Regulus is staring at him blankly, sternly. Except his mouth is doing that wobbly, curled-down, crying thing - the one tell he has never been able to quite let go of. 

On shaky legs, Sirius removes himself from his Mother’s side. Ignoring her pitiful noises of distress, he allows himself to be led out of the room by his younger brother. He feels untethered, like he’s going to drift away, like his head’s filled with helium.

Your little disappearing act. 

Sirius drifts until he feels cold take hold of him. Regulus has led him gently all the way out of the house. The rain is coming down harder than ever, soaking through his clothes in seconds.

All he can do is sink to his knees on the front steps, sobbing into his hands. He sounds like a blubbering, pitiful child but Regulus curls a hesitant arm around his shaking shoulders nonetheless. 

The door creaks to a close behind them.