promises, oceans deep

27th November, 1979

The morning air is crisp as Sirius trudges through the grounds of Hogwarts. Remus’ footsteps are solid, consistent behind him.

Strangely enough, this has been the most nervous he’s felt about one of these little missions. Something about secretly returning to Hogwarts with such a huge, deadly secret just isn’t sitting quite right in his stomach. There’s a faint ringing in his ears. 

As the entryway of the castle comes into view over the top of the hill, a hand slips into Sirius’. 

“Ready?” Remus asks, squeezing their fingers together. His silent question of are you okay? hangs in the air. After many years of conflict over that question, the pair of them have just learnt to wait until the other is ready to bring it up themselves. But Sirius knows that Remus is thinking it.

It’s been just over a week since Sirius had gotten hurt and he’s certainly still feeling it. Regulus and Remus have been pouring over any spell book they can find to try and figure out what spell was used in that Shack but Sirius can’t really find it in himself to care. He got attacked, it hurt like a bitch and now he’s basically all better! What more could there be to the situation? Still, at least they’re finding something to bond over. 

“As I’ll ever be.” Sirius grimaces, squeezing Remus’ hand in return. He presses a kiss onto the scarred knuckles, eyeing the concerned look on his face, “I’ll take it easy, I promise.”

“Okay. You better.” Remus glares with faux ferocity, stepping away from his boyfriend. Sirius takes this as his cue. 

The last time he transformed into Padfoot was when he and Reg decided to take on a lake-full of the undead so Sirius chooses to excuse the way his heart starts racing as muscle memory. 

He trots alongside Remus up towards the castle, tail wagging gently. Every scent and sound is dialled up to 11 when he’s like this. There are students getting ready for the day, others still snoring softly. Food is being prepared in the kitchens. The castle is alive and bustling. The ground suddenly feels a lot more real, solid underneath his paws.

Argus Filch greets them at the door.

“Mr Lupin,” He sneers, letting the pair of them in, “What brings you here?”

Remus smiles patronisingly, “Same reason as always, Argus. I need to report back to Dumbledore, just like every time I’m here.”

Filch nods, unsatisfied - clearly just as lustful for conflict as ever.

A demonic screeching comes abruptly from Sirius’ left. Bulging amber eyes appear in his vision, along with matted fur and a snarling maw. Merlin , does Sirius hate this ugly fucking thing.

He lets out a bark, ducking into a classic let’s play! position that has the cat leaning away in disgust. 

“Oh! I hope you don’t mind, but I brought my dog!” Remus smiles charmingly, placing a hand in between Padfoot’s ears, “I thought he could have a run around while I chat to Albus.”

“I really don’t think-”

“Thank you, Argus! The children will love him!” Remus lets out a chuckle, pushing past the other man, “Come along, Padfoot!”

Sirius smugly trots past the cat, making sure to wag his tail broadly.

The couple go their separate ways with nothing but a nod - aware of Filch’s eyes on them all the way down the hall.

It’s moments like these that has Sirius eternally thankful for the antics of the Marauders back in their Hogwarts days. He doesn’t even need to really think about it to navigate his way through the everlasting corridors of the castle. He knows every turn to take, every dusty and unused hall to go down. 

Who knew that being a little shit in school would be so key to saving the future of the Wizarding World?

He can almost hear James’ footsteps beside him, his laughter, his manic whispering. 

Sirius’ lungs are tight. The air can’t quite get through. 

The arrival at his destination thankfully prevents him from thinking about the gaping loss in his chest that has formed in James’ absence. A statue of a hooded figure holding a staff lives in the very south-point of the school, guarding what the Marauders soon learnt was a passageway down to the lake. 

Sirius takes a moment to listen out for any movement in a nearby hallway before transforming out of his Padfoot form. He reaches out to place a wary hand on the stone crow that sits atop the statue’s staff, and tugs downwards.

A thrill goes through him as the statue begins to slowly move, the sound reverberating underneath Sirius’ feet. A pale face greets him from the darkness of the passageway. 

“Took you long enough.” Regulus huffs, immediately setting off through the castle. There’s a cobweb hanging from his jumper - a factor that Sirius is choosing to leave unannounced at this moment. Regulus has been extra snappy lately - something that will not at all be helped by the embarrassment of looking dishevelled. 

“Oh, I’m sorry, Regulus! So sorry that breaking and entering a school of children took a bit of caution!” Sirius snarks, jogging slightly to catch up with his little brother. 

“You bloody well should be!” the shorter man snipes, pulling his sleeves over his hands, “That passageway was fucking freezing - I don’t even want to know how you lunatics found it.”

Sirius is once again choosing to keep the factor of the Marauders Map to himself at this time. Look, he just doesn’t quite have the energy to deal with Regulus’ outrage, right now. 

Of course, he doesn’t have much energy for anything at the moment, but that’s just because the pain’s made it hard to sleep. Sirius has personally never really been better! The lacerations are fading, their Defeat Voldemort plans are making huge progress and he has literally never felt less floaty or detached to his body! 

“Are you even listening, right now?”

Shit. 

“Um…” Sirius replies, very intelligently. 

Regulus just stares at him for a moment, face blank. Rather than berating him, as Sirius was expecting, his brother simply sighs and continues towards their destination. Odd. 

The brothers walk in silence for a long while, cautious of any early-rising students that could be roaming the halls. For once, they're both completely in the know about the plan. As it turns out, the Room of Requirement isn’t as much of a secret as the Marauders had thought it was. According to Regulus, the Slytherin Prefects during his first year had openly discussed it as a meeting place, though he suspects that the knowledge has been lost in the following years. It’s nice not feeling completely fucking useless on one of these. 

As they make the turning into the final corridor, a hand grasps Sirius’ wrist, “I’ll open it.” 

“What?” Sirius frowns, frustration building in the pit of his stomach, “Why can’t I open it?”

Regulus shifts uncomfortably, “You just don’t seem the most… focused right now. It’ll just be quicker if I do it, okay?”

“Oh, sorry, Reg!” Sirius snaps, “I didn’t realise that not listening to you one time suddenly means that I’m so brain-dead that I can’t picture a room. My mistake!”

Not even bothering to dignify that with a response, Regulus pushes past his older brother and strides down the hallway, hands clenched at his sides. 

Ugh, shit. Sirius knows that Reg hasn’t actually done a single thing all day that would warrant that response. He’s just the tiniest bit… on edge. And, yes, maybe Sirius hasn’t been particularly focused today and it hit a bit of a nerve. He vows to himself to just let Regulus take the lead from now on. No more unnecessary outbursts from now on! Because he’s really never been better, remember?

“See, this is what I was fucking talking about, Sirius Orion!” Regulus calls from down the hall, next to what appears to be the open and waiting door to the Room of Requirement, “Hurry up!”

Bollocks. He breaks into a jog down the corridor. 

The Room of Requirement looks unlike anything either brother has seen before. It’s piled high with junk and old furniture and knick-knacks. This is what they expected but Sirius doesn’t feel any less daunted by the sheer amount of searching they're going to have to do. 

He lets out a long sigh, “Right… I’ll go right, you go left.”

All Regulus can muster is a returning sigh. They get to work.

-

About two hours in, Sirius is at his wits end. 

“Reg? Reggie?” He calls into the abyss of junk. His voice echoes around the room.

“Yeah?” A voice echoes back.

“I can’t do this for another fucking second, I’m taking a break!” He shouts, sitting heavily down on a rickety old chair. His hands are calloused, his legs are aching and, don’t tell Remus, but he’s definitely re-opened one of his wounds. A break is deserved, okay? There’s only so much rummaging one can do before their mind implodes.

A crash to his left alerts him to the arrival of his little brother. Regulus stumbles past one of the endless piles of stuff, narrowly missing being brained by a falling brass vase. He settles wordlessly on the floor beside Sirius, nursing his sore hands. 

The silence between them is charged, tense. Regulus is shifting slightly, in the way that he does when there’s something he desperately wants to say but won’t. 

Sirius snorts, “What? Why do you look like that?”

“Like what?” Regulus scoffs, about half as nonchalant as he thinks he looks. 

“Like a toddler who just drew all over the walls in Sharpie.”

“What the fuck is Sharpie?”

Sirius can’t help but laugh, though he tries to restrain it under Regulus’ withering glare, “You’ve been weird all day- no, all week! Whatever it is, just tell me and we can fix it.”

Regulus stares intently at his hands, picking at his nails, “It’s nothing, Sirius, drop it.”

“Reg, it’s just me. You can say it, it's okay.”

Silence falls over the two of them like a blanket. Sirius tries not to squirm under the immense weight of it, knowing that the slightest shift will send Reg right back into his shell.

“I’m just…sorry.” Regulus mutters, almost a whisper. 

Sirius slips off of his chair to sit beside his brother on the floor, “What the fuck for, you little weirdo?”

Regulus’ eye roll expresses his disdain for that phrasing, though his face soon falls, “I basically got you killed last week and you don’t even seem angry.”

“What are you possibly talking abo-”

“No, shut up.” Reg snaps, though his mouth is curling down in the left corner. He speaks at almost a whisper, as if scared to speak it all into existence, “You were bleeding out right in front of me and I froze like a fucking idiot. You know I hardly remember that day? Because I was so far in my head? I can plan for things as much as I want but none of it will ever change the fact that I’m ultimately a massive fucking coward. So I’m sorry.” 

Sirius sits in it for a moment, staring at his brother. He looks so incredibly young like this, hunched over and willing away his tears. Sirius is sure that it’s just an older brother thing, but he’s always struggled to see Regulus as anything other than the little baby he’d climbed into the same cot as when he wailed for the warmth of his mother. Regulus has always had a softness in him - one that Sirius likes to think that he helped cultivate and keep safe, like gently blowing on a fire. It’s always made him overly protective and wary over his brother. Sirius made it his job to take the hits and to harden and toughen. Regulus was far too precious to become anything but a shield for. 

The person that Sirius has lived with these last few months, though? He has more courage and strength and ruthlessness than anyone he's ever met. 

His little brother grew up without him, it seems.

“Regulus, I-” He starts, throat tight, “You’re the bravest person I know. No, don’t scoff like that, you little shit. I’m seri- I mean it. You’re literally going head-to-head with one of the most vicious Dark Wizards history has ever known. That’s not anything to fucking scoff at, okay?

“And… I know I called you a coward for not leaving with me, I know I did. But staying was maybe just as brave as leaving. Because you plotted and played their twisted games, even when I didn’t have the stomach for it. If that’s not bravery, then I don’t know what is.”

Regulus ducks his head, croaking out a “But I left you to die. You had to get us to safety, while I was a complete wreck.”

Sirius lets out a long breath of air, curling a hand around his brother's wrist, “One moment of weakness doesn’t make you a failure, Reg. You’re always so strong. It’s okay that you lost it for a second, Merlin knows I have. Do you need to hear me forgive you, because I do, Reg. I forgive you for all of it.”

A pair of skinny arms wrap around his middle abruptly. Regulus nods against Sirius’ chest, body trembling slightly. He brings a hand up to card through his little brother’s hair, just like he had the day the house elves brought him to meet the precious new baby for the first time. Whispered comforts fall absently out of his mouth.

When the Black brothers walk out of the Room two hours later, Diadem in hand, the silence between them is no longer heavy. Instead, they joke and bicker. The ground beneath Sirius’ feet suddenly feels a lot more solid.