Regulus sits on Sirius’s bed.
“You’re leaving.” He says. It’s a statement, not a question. He already knows the answer.
“Yes.” Sirius huffs irritatedly, pulling a duffle bag out of his closet.
It’s been a rough day at Grimmauld Place. A rough summer, really.
“For good, this time?” Regulus asks, trying to make his voice as bored and disinterested as he can. He doesn’t need to ask it. He already knows the answer, but he has to hear it from Sirius’s lips, because if he doesn’t, some little part of him will always hope.
Sirius starts tossing things haphazardly into the bag.
I’m sorry. He wants to say. I’m sorry. But he doesn’t say that. It isn’t really his fault, is it?
Instead he says gently, “Yeah, Reg. For good.”
Regulus’s lips twitch in a frown before righting themselves to a neutral line. He picks at a thread on Sirius’s comforter.
Stay. He wants to beg. Please, don’t go. Don’t leave me.
But he can’t say that. He can’t show that kind of weakness. Besides, it wouldn’t make any difference. When Sirius has made up his mind, he’s made up his mind.
Instead he says, “You’re going to the Potters’, I take it?” with a cool raise of an eyebrow.
Sirius looks up at the disdainful look on his brother’s face.
Come with me. He wants to say. Run away with me just like we talked about when we were kids.
But Sirius can’t say that. Regulus won’t come. And even if he did, Regulus wouldn’t fit in at the Potters. Effie, Fleamont, and James are so full of love and energy and Regulus is so… stiff. Aloof. And… well… hard to love. Not that the Potters wouldn’t try, they’d shower Reggie with as much care and attention as they do James and Sirius. But Regulus wouldn’t accept it right. Watching him battle against the Potters’ kindness and the Potters fight against Regulus’s coldness would only tear Sirius apart. No, it’s better if Regulus stays.
Sirius yanks open a drawer with more force than is necessary, “Thought I might go somewhere I’m actually wanted.”
It was the answer Regulus expected, but that doesn’t make it hurt any less.
You are wanted. Regulus wants to say. I want you. Please, stay.
But he can’t say that. Sirius can’t stay. They both know what will happen if Sirius stays. Neither one of them will ever say it aloud, but it’s only a matter of time. No, it’s better if Sirius goes.
Instead, Regulus hums noncommittally.
Sirius steals another look at his kid brother before adding a toothbrush to the duffle. Regulus is sitting so primly on the edge of his bed, a stern mask on his face. The perfect Black.
You know why I have to go. Sirius wants to explain. They’ll kill me if I don’t.
But he can’t tell Regulus that. He can’t call Regulus’s family monsters, even if it’s true.
Instead, he says, “There’s nothing left for me here.”
The words twinge painfully in Regulus’s chest, but he refuses to show the ache.
What about me? He wants to ask. What about your little brother? I’m still here.
But he can’t say that. He can’t beg for his brother.
Instead, he calms his emotions and darkens his face. With all the cruel callousness he can muster, he says “No. There isn’t.”
Sirius doesn’t look at Regulus. He can’t stand to see the disgusted sneer he knows he’s wearing. Regulus has become so like their parents these days.
I love you, Reg. he wants to say. You don’t deserve to grow up like this.
But he can’t say that. What good would it do?
Instead, Sirius tucks his wand into his pocket and zips up the stuffed duffle. “I should get going before it’s too late.”
Regulus stands up from the bed, a lump forming in his throat. He never really thought this moment would come.
“Right then.” He says, heading toward the door. He pauses with his hand on the knob.
Good luck. He wants to say. I love you. I’m rooting for you.
But he can’t say that. He’ll start crying if he says that.
Instead, he says harshly, “I’ll tell mother you’ve got a headache.” And shuts the door behind him.
Sirius stares at the back of the closed door. The anger and fury that have been roiling inside of him his whole life bubbles to the surface. It shouldn’t be like this. It shouldn’t have to be like this.
With a ferocious shove, Sirius knocks the packed duffle bag off of the bed and onto the floor with a dissatisfying flop.
He won’t be taking the bag. He won’t be taking anything. He doesn’t want anything that will remind him of this house.
Throwing a middle finger in the air, Sirius leaves the room, walks out the front door, and never looks back.
He never sees Regulus’s tear-stained face in the window, watching him go.