Summer 1973
They stepped off the train together, after not speaking for 8 months. Regulus had followed his brother onto the train on the first day of September last year, but Sirius’ friends were nothing like he expected. Instead, he slotted into the seemingly ready-made place in the first-year Slytherin tribe. A scrawny kid with dark hair in his eyes had sloped over, scowling. Regulus vaguely recognised him from pure-blood parties etc. Crouch something. A few days later, they were learning curses. A few more, and new swear words integrated their way into Regulus’ vocabulary, and the name Barty was seemingly his new favourite. Evan entered their world a few weeks later, bringing more hexes and curses with him. Regulus felt more at home that he had ever (except maybe a specific blanket den from 1969).
It wasn’t that Regulus forgot his brother, it’s that Sirius had his own friends. The only way they fit together was under Walburga's rule.
Sirius stayed at the castle over Christmas again, but Reg went home. They didn’t exchange gifts, or even letters. It had been a miserable affair, like the year before, and Regulus didn’t like to admit it, but Sirius’ absence only made Christmas worse.
Whatever Regulus expected of the year, it wasn’t Sirius’ ignoring his notes, or smiling awkwardly. Sirius even sneered at his friends, calling them losers.
Now, the Black brothers walked towards their mother together. The train had just arrived when Sirius found Regulus, saying they had to get off together. They were about the same height now, Regulus noticed. Though this wasn't a particularly impressive height. Regulus somehow didn't feel as grown up as he expected to. It was as if going home made hi shrink back down to being eight.
They looked very similar, Sirius just had longer hair, Regulus a more pointed serious face. Neither spoke a word, all through Walburga’s lecture to Sirius.
“Glad you’re home Regulus.” She tacked onto the end- an afterthought.
Neither of them spoke a word to each other during dinner. Regulus dutifully answered questions about schoolwork and his friends- Walburga was particularly interested in Evan, probably because he was one of the sacred twenty eight. Not that that mattered to Reg. Sirius was ignored. Now that the lecture on the journey home was over, he was being ignored fully.
Neither of them spoke a word that evening, or the next day or the next.
Regulus did his homework. He read. He talked to Barty and Evan a lot. He ignored Snape, who kept sending letters trying to incite himself over.
He didn’t really like the slimy half-blood, but knew that their supposed friendship would irritate Sirius to no end, so he pretended they were the best of chums in front of his brother.
He talked to Kreacher a lot too. The old house-elf was kind of nice once you got to know him. Sometimes Regulus helped with the chores because the elf was old- or that’s what he told himself. It would be embarrassing to admit that he liked doing the washing and dishes and ironing. As long as his parents weren’t around, he was happy enough to help, and keep Kreacher company.
Still, as much as Reg tried to ignore his brother it was hard. Sirius Black was not someone easily ignored. He thumped about the house, messing his hair, swearing and mumbling under his breath. Sometimes he ripped pages from books in the library, screwed them up and kicked them about, just for fun. He tacked red and gold banners in his room.
Regulus looked the other way and put the ruined books back on the shelves. He stayed in the library all day every day. He saw Walburga burning the banners and left bandages outside Sirius’ door afterwards. He knew what she would do. The scars were evidence enough on his own back and shoulders.
He couldn’t understand why Sirius didn’t just be quiet and do what they wanted. Wouldn’t it be easier and less painful for everyone? Six weeks wasn’t too hard, surely? Regulus was already counting down how long until he was back with Barty and Evan.
But after the first week, Regulus was missing the castle more than he would’ve liked to admit. Without meaning to, he’d let the place become home, let it comfort him. He missed the corridors and grounds and towers more than he missed his friends. Like a missing limb.
One day, he saw Sirius sitting in the library. Well, laid. On the floor. On his front, clearly his wounds hadn’t healed. Regulus recognised the stiff shoulders.
Sirius looked up when Reg came in, then his eyes rolled back down to the book in his hands. Sirius had perfected the eye roll. Regulus couldn’t tell if he was reading or scribbling something in the precious history pages. He hoped it was the former. Reg sat down on his usual armchair and opened his own book, trying to focus on the words.
He desperately wanted to talk to his brother, like an ache.
Sirius was so close.
Literally within touching distance.
If he wanted, Reg could reach out his foot and nudge Sirius’ side. But he didn’t dare. Too much was different, they were no longer the little kids talking about running away and living in their own castle, or maybe a cave, or their blanket den. They were boys of the house Black. They had a duty. And Sirius wasn’t up to it- according to mother and father anyway.
Sirius suddenly sighed and rolled onto his back. Reg didn’t miss the slight flinch.
“Reg? Are you really mates with Snape? He’s such a dick. I can’t believe you survived a whole year hanging ‘round with him.”
No.
“Yeah.”
“One word answers. Great. God it’s so boooooooring here, how are you coping?”
This was their first conversation in ages. It felt odd- forced. Or maybe Reg had forgotten how to have a conversation with Sirius.
“Schoolwork. Erm Barty and Evan.”
Sirius made a face. He didn’t like Barty. Oddly, that didn’t bother Regulus that much anymore.
“You have an owl then?”
“You know I do. They took yours away didn't they?"
"Ugh yes,"
They were silent for a few seconds. Regulus floundered, trying to think of something to say.
“Can I ask a favour? Will you let me borrow him-”
“Her.”
“Right. Well- I … can i borrow hi- her to…to”
“Sure. You have a letter?”
Regulus wasn’t sure what made him say yes. It was dangerous and stupid. But it was sort-of worth it to see his brother's face crack open into the wide grin he remembered from years ago. It was looking into the past.
Reg’s chest ached.
Sirius handed it over- a fat parcel of paper. Reams and reams of the stuff. How on earth did he have so much to say to James after only a week in this boring house. Probably describing their next prank or something similarly idiotic. Rreg tried not to roll his eyes.
“There’s stuff in there for Lupin too.” Sirius said unnecessarily, sat up down, on the floor.
“Oh alright. I’ll send it in a bit.”
But Sirius’ grey-blue eyes didn’t leave him.
“Fine I'll do it now.”
“Thanks Reggie- you’re an angel!”
Reggie. That one hurt.
He got up and went to Astra, the huge hawk owl in his room.
Regulus felt that their conversation had broken the ice. Sirius sometimes caught his eye. Or they talked in the hallways, always passing each other, like at school. Revolving around one another like polar opposites. Reg hoped that maybe it would be like this at school- almost friends again.
Thank god, Sirius stopped being as reckless after that. He was calmer, less angry.
Regulus passed on a few more letters and gave Sirius his letters back. He began to feel like an owl himself. I mean how much could you want to say to one person? And it was dangerous, they could only attempt a letter a week, sometimes not even that.
The summer went awfully slowly- a drag of family gatherings in old suits and reading and dusting companionably with Kreacher, who was suddenly all over Reg.
“Master Regulus doesn’t need to help Kreacher with the cooking if Master doesn’t want to,”
“I want to Kreacher- and I make better pastry than you,” He smiled slightly at the elf, who poked his side with the wooden spoon.
“Cocky master,” The elf smiled, his ears lifting.
“Just the truth Kreacher- go on pass me the rolling pin and you can do the veg.”
“What do you think you’re doing?”
Reg’s blood turned to ice.
He didn’t dare turn around. He didn’t dare face her. He couldn’t. He knew the look of disappointment that would be staring at him.
“I said," What are you doing, Regulus?”
“Nothing mother.”
Regulus stepped backwards, finally turning towards her. He kept his eyes lowered to the flour-dusted floor. He held himself still, holding his breath. He braced for the-
Slap.
Reg gasped slightly, staring at the floor. Tears threatened to overflow, but he didn't let them
He wouldn’t cry. He wouldn’t cry. He. Would. Not. Cry. Not in front of her anyway.
Walburga grabbed the old elf by the scruff of his neck and dragged him away. Kreacher didn’t even put up a fight. Regulus wondered if she would kill him quickly. He suspected not.
Something wet landed on the floor. Shit. Not here, not here, not here. Not here.
He ran from the kitchen, slamming into his room.
Fuck. What had he done? What had he done??? All he could think of Kreacher- but no screams came like he expected them to. Maybe she had sworn him to silence.
Images ravaged his mind of Kreacher trying to hold in screams as she tortured him, unable to even squeak without disobeying orders. Horrible pictures of the scars from his own back, that pain, all transferred onto the scrawny elf. Kreacher writhing in pain, Walburga syphoned away the blood before it even fell.
Regulus pressed his cheek against the window. His breath steamed the glass. The coolness of it felt good against the left side of his face, where his mother had slapped him. It didn’t really hurt anymore- just felt warm. It didn’t matter anyway.
The next morning- September 1st- Reg woke up with a start. The whole left side of his face ached and felt freezing. He’d slept pressed against the window. Gingerly, he tested his jaw- sore but bearable. She slapped so that they didn't bruise in such a noticeable place. His back was another story.
There was no Kreacher. No sign of the wizened old elf anywhere.
Reg pushed back his sadness, his regret and guilt. He left head held high, not looking anywhere but forwards. At least it stopped the tears. His mask was solid and unbreakable.