losing by their side
6th December, 1979
“You’re aware that this is the dumbest thing anyone has ever done, yes?”
“Uh, yep.”
“Alright, I’m checking that you know.”
Sirius does know. He very much knows. Of all the most stupid, reckless, borderline-suicidal plans he’s ever come up with, this is probably the worst. He doesn’t need Remus to tell him that.
“And you really can’t come up with anything better?” This question is directed at Sirius’ younger brother.
Regulus scowls in return, frustrated at his own answer, “No, Lupin. If there were another option, we would be doing that rather than this.”
Remus grimaces. Of course, he already knows the answers to all these questions because of the extensive arguments and discussions that have occurred in the past few days. He just also knows that doing this won’t end well, as is evident by the furrow in his brow.
“Look, Moons,” Sirius starts, taking a scarred hand into his own, “I know this is dangerous but we don’t have any other option. We’re on a time limit now, James and Lily are in danger and we’ve done all this before. This is the last one, the final stretch.” A pause, “Besides, do you really think Reg would let me do anything stupid?”
“That’s true!” Regulus chimes in from where he’s tying up his boot laces, “If he dies, I’m resurrecting him just to yell at him.”
Remus doesn’t look particularly reassured but he stretches his lips into a smile anyway. In all honesty, it looks rather like a grimace but Sirius can appreciate that he tried. The taller man sighs, “Are you sure that I can’t come with y-”
“No!” Both brothers chime in unison. Remus is still weak from the recent moon, as well as the fact that two people is already pushing it for this mission. Complete stealth is required.
When Regulus first pitched this idea, he had initially presented it as a solo mission. Of course, Sirius would die before letting that happen. After long weeks of research and a whole load of luck, the trio had finally figured out that the final Horcrux was a Diary belonging to none other than Lucius Malfoy. After much deliberation, it seems that there is no other choice but to break into the Malfoy home and take it.
The only reason Sirius managed to convince Regulus to let him come was that he'd pointed out that he could do all the criminal activity while Regulus distracted the couple under the guise of a regular visit.
There is simply no room in this mission for a third person but that will not stop Remus Lupin from trying.
“I just really don’t feel-”
Sirius laughs, exasperated, “ Moony. It’s all going to be okay. I’ll make sure of it, I always do.”
Remus takes a deep, calming breath before smiling tightly, “Okay, yes. You’ve got it handled, I know. You should go.”
Without another word, Sirius lets go of Remus’ hand. He can’t bring himself to say anymore goodbyes or reassurances. It’s all getting rather daunting.
The werewolf takes his silence with grace, allowing Sirius to move away to stand with his brother. No more words are needed. Remus knows.
-
The Malfoy Manor is far more formidable than Sirius has prepared for.
He’s been here only once before, back when Narcissa and Malfoy first married in 1975. It had been one of the last family gatherings Sirius had ever attended.
Narcissa had looked beautiful - dress just off-white enough to match her pale hair. She’d been eager to show off her shiny ring to the guests, had urged them to stay late into the night. He remembers thinking that she also looked very, very sad.
“Are you clear on the plan?” Regulus asks, rubbing his hands together to fend off the biting winter cold.
Sirius can’t quite stop himself from rolling his eyes, “ Yes, Reg, you’ve told me the plan at least five times on the trip over.”
“Sorry, I’m just making sure.” He huffs, “We can’t have it go like the… Shack, or the Lake or-”
“Or any of them, really.” Sirius smirks. They really don’t have a great track record.
Regulus doesn’t bother responding to that - instead adjusting his coat and straightening his posture. Getting into character.
The brothers part ways shortly after; Regulus knocking boldly on the front door while Sirius sneaks in through the servants quarters.
According to Regulus, the Malfoy’s have a singular house elf named Dobbs, or something, that is always glued to Narcissa’s side. Sure enough, when Sirius lets himself in through the side door, the servant quarters are void of any life.
Step one: complete.
Step two involves Sirius attempting to follow Regulus’ concise, written-out directions on how to navigate from the servants quarters to the main study. The younger man had gone as far as to draw little diagrams when describing particularly confusing hallways. Sirius chose to keep how endearing that is to himself.
As Sirius creeps through Malfoy Manor, memories of the wedding begin to flood his brain. An extravagant, tiered cake. White lace draped over each doorway. His mother’s hand tight on his shoulder. Narcissa had wanted to get married outside, under the sun.
She’d opened all the curtains as a substitute.
The main study isn’t hard to find once Sirius breaches the central area of the house. It’s got tall double doors and a green runner leading up to it.
Inside is just as ornate. Lucius Malfoy is a man of expensive taste, as is reflected by the blackwood furniture and velvety accents. An ornate bookshelf runs along the far left wall. On the desk sits a picture of Narcissa in what Sirius can guess is her sixth year of Hogwarts. Next to her stands a seventeen-year-old Lucius in his Quidditch gear.
Sirius circles the desk, spotting the drawers that Regulus informed him would be there. The drawer on the bottom right is the only one with a keyhole.
“Alohomora! ” Sirius whispers, grinning widely as the tiny click he hears.
Hands numb with anticipation, Sirius pulls in open to reveal a brown, leather book bound with twine. A dark aura emanates strongly from it. The Diary. The final Horcrux.
He can’t help the manic giggle that escapes his mouth as he uses his wand to Levitate the Diary into the pouch tied around his waist. Remus had charmed it to hold an infinite amount of objects, so the Diary slides right in, untraceable.
A little voice in his head is screaming at him to go, go, run! you’ve done it, go! but Sirius Black is nothing if not insatiably curious. He opens the next drawer along. If the Death Eaters are stupid enough to keep the Diary defenceless like this, there’s no telling the plans that may be stored in this study alone. The amount of attacks that could be prevented, the lives that could be sav-
“Oh, Sirius.” A voice sounds behind him, “I wish you’d have just left it alone.”
Heart in his throat, Sirius stands up, wand at the ready.
Lucius Malfoy is stood in the doorway, cane at his side. He’s shaking his head in disapproval. He even looks a little bit sorry.
Before Sirius can even begin to cast a spell, he’s being thrown across the room by an invisible force. The wind is knocked out of him as the ornate bookshelf crashes down on top of him. There’s blood
dripping from his head into his left eye. Dazed, Sirius attempts to rise again.
Lucius tuts disapprovingly, reaching down to pluck up Sirius’ wand from where it’s fallen onto the floor, “Don’t bother, Black. You’re outrageously outnumbered.”
“Really?” Sirius grits out, “Because the only other person I see around here is you, Malfoy.”
The blonde throws his head back in a cruel chuckle, before slipping Sirius’ wand into his pocket, “Five of Lord Voldemort’s favourite Death Eaters are downstairs as we speak, Black. They’re having a nice little chat with your brother.”
The rage and fear that immediately washes over Sirius is enough to push him up onto his feet. As soon as he does, however, the world tilts sideways and goes fuzzy in the corners. Blood continues to ooze from his forehead.
Lucius’ hand clamps down on Sirius’ forearm, dragging him out of the room, tutting as the other man stumbles and trips, “Hurry up, Black. You need to be here to welcome the Dark Lord.”
Oh, no. No, no no. This isn’t how it was all supposed to go. Merlin, he had one job. Slip in, grab the Diary, get out.
As the pair draw nearer to the dining room, Sirius can feel the presence of ever-closer Voldemort - can feel the Dark Magic rooted in his shattered soul. His heart lurches at the idea of what it may feel like when he actually arrives. The nausea tightens its grasp on Sirius’ throat.
The dining room doors are wide open, dim light spilling out into the hallway. Even here, Sirius can hear the echoing sounds of leering and laughter from the Death Eater’s inside. The mocking directed at his brother.
Lucius drags him through the door frame, free hand spread wide and swaggering, “Look who I found nosying about upstairs!”
Sirius feels his stomach drop as he takes in the image before him.
Four masked Death Eaters haunt the room, leering over Regulus Black from where they’ve bound him to a dining chair. He’s got blood dripping from his nose. It looks crooked.
They’ve hurt him.
“Regulus!” He can’t help the shout that erupts from him, slurring and distorted as it is. Lucius barely manages to grab him as he lurches towards his brother.
One of the Death Eaters lets out a cackle, pulling his mask off. It takes a moment for Sirius to identify him as Antonin Dolohov, almost unrecognisable through scruffy facial hair and dark, sunken eyes, “Ah, he arrives! Sirius Black, king of the traitors!”
He strides closer, closer enough to reach out and grab Sirius by the shoulder - uncaring of the wince that his rough touch causes. Dolohov smiles, speaking softly, “I’ve been waiting to do this ever since I heard about your mother blasting you off your family tree. All that influence and you throw it away like it's nothing. You’re a coward, Black. You and your brother.”
Sirius spits in his face.
The animal part of his brain watches in satisfaction as Dolohov recoils. The rational part screams just as fiercely blood, there’s blood in your spit! you’re bleeding!
Dolohov is frozen in contempt, fingers smearing the splattering of red. His eyes are dark, cold, inhuman. Regulus lets out a pained groan.
The sound of distress from his little brother draws the attention from everyone in the room. He’s folded in on himself as much as his binding will allow, continuing to let out low keening sounds.
Lucius adjusts his grip on Sirius, throwing out his free hand in incredulity, “What did you idiots do to him? The Dark Lord wanted the younger Black to himself! If you’ve hurt him so much that he’s-”
One of the masked Death Eater’s lets out a nervous scoff, “Calm down, Malfoy. We just roughed him up a bit.”
Strangely, a laugh bubbles in Sirius' throat, even as his vision swims, “Yeah, but the little tyke’s fragile. ‘s got bird bones.”
The Death Eater who had spoken before is silent, warily eying Regulus’ haunched figure. His pained groans don’t cease. Sweat is beginning to plaster his curly hair to his forehead. Dolohov observes him for a long moment, brows furrowed. He sighs, “Untie him. See what the damage is.”
Two of the Death Eaters hesitate before surging forward and untying Regulus’ haunched figure. Without the support from the ropes, the smaller man tumbles down onto the floor, lying prone and listless. Sirius has to stop himself rushing forward to tend to his brother. As if aware of the thought crossing Sirius’ mind, Lucius tightens his grip.
Dolohov pokes Regulus with the toe of his boot, rolling him until he’s flat on his back. He reaches to check for a pulse, “Still alive. No need for the hysterics.”
Sirius allows himself to breathe, peering down at the slack, pale face of his brother. Just as he’s about to turn his attention back to their captors, a flash of grey catches his eye. Regulus is glancing up at him, alert as ever despite his limp figure.
That sneaky little bastard.
As soon as his little brother moves, so does Sirius. He throws his elbow back into Lucius’ nose, hearing a satisfying crack! as he does so. Regulus moves faster than lightning, rearing up from his place on the floor to shoot past their disoriented captors towards Sirius. The brothers move in sync towards the exit, Regulus reaching out to steady Sirius where his dizziness causes him to stumble. With freedom just brushing their fingertips, the doors slam closed.
Dolohov lets out a laugh, wand clutched in his fingers, “A nice try, Blacks. Admirable, even. Unfortunately, I just can’t let you go.”
“What are we worth to you?” Regulus snarls, hand clutching tightly around Sirius’ upper arm, “What will he give you for us? Whatever it is, it won’t be enough.”
“See, that’s where you’re wrong.” Dolohov shakes his head. He’s smiling, manic, “You’re his biggest nuisance right now, the two of you. And I’m the one who found you out. I followed you all the way home, Baby Black, after that meeting. I followed you all the way to London, to your traitor brother and his queer boyfriend. I found you out.”
Regulus simply smirks, “And it still won’t be enough, Antonin. Tom Riddle is a man who only serves himself. You could wipe out the entire Muggle-born race and it still wouldn’t be enough to get him to honour you. You’ve wasted your whole life on a seismic lie.”
The thought makes Sirius chuckle. Dolohov snarls at him, “Got something to say, traitor?”
“I don’t even know who you are!” Sirius slurs, smile still set on his face. It's true. Before this very moment, Sirius wouldn’t have been able to pick Antonin Dolohov out in a crowd, “You’re a nobody. Not even killing the Black heirs can change that.”
“Do you really think so?” Dolohov asks, voice barely a whisper. His pupils are blown wide and his wand is pointed directly at Sirius’ bleeding forehead. His next words are just as quiet, “Avada kedavra.”
Sirius is moving before he can even think about it, grabbing his brother and jerking them both out of the way.
The blinding beam of green light sails right past Sirius’ ear, ricochets off of the mirror behind him before careening directly into-
A body hits the ground.
A body with long, bony fingers and black, shaggy hair and a mole resting on a left cheekbone.
A body hits the ground, still and lifeless.
There’s an animalistic screeching, screaming, wailing ringing out across the dining room. It’s drowned out by a buzzing kind of sound, right in Sirius’ ear. His throat is sore, stinging.
Oh. Maybe the screaming is him.
He can feel raw power sparking and exploding out of him with every wail, can feel the way it starbursts across the room. Can feel the moment it stops the hearts of the dark figures in his periphery.
The wailing persists.
There’s hands on him, a new figure, pushing him away from the body. There’s someone shouting, shouting, shouting into his ear.
“Sirius, you have to go! You have to move!” Pale, feminine hands grasp at his wet cheeks. A white-blond head moves into view. The shape of it all is distantly familiar, “Sirius, please. I know, I know, but you have to run !”
He’s pushed, pushed away and away and away. His legs move him on autopilot. The ringing in his ears hasn’t stopped but the screams have. He thinks his face is wet.
Sirius Black’s legs carry him out and away from the Malfoy Manor and into the woods and away from Antonin Dolohov and his conspirators and away from a lifeless body.
Away from the lifeless body of his little brother.