Chapter 1
Sirius
It’s late at night when the doorbell rings to the flat James and Sirius share in London. It’s late, but both boys are still awake. Sirius is flipping through his record collection, looking for what to play next, and James is sitting on the couch reading some book Lily recommended. It has far too many words in the title to actually be interesting, but James is determined to get through it.
The sound of the bell startles them both. James looks up from the couch. “Are we expecting anyone?”
Sirius frowns. Of course they aren’t expecting anyone. The only people they ever have over are Remus and the girls, but any of them would just use their key and walk right in.
“No…” Sirius says, slipping his wand out of his pocket. Can’t be too careful these days. “I’ll go see who it is.”
James shrugs and goes back to his reading. “Alright. Scream if it’s someone trying to kill you.”
It’s a joke, and it’s meant to be funny, but it’s also kind of true. With the war in the state it is, Sirius wouldn’t be all that surprised if someone showed up on their doorstep and did try to kill them. Sirius goes to the door and peaks through the side window. He gasps at what he sees, then throws the door open wide.
There, standing on the welcome mat that pleasantly reads “Fuck off”, is Regulus Black. His face is tight and blank. He’s thin and pale and dressed in all black and dark green. Just like Sirius remembers him.
Except entirely not.
Regulus is hunched over just a bit, a hand pressed hard to one side.
Sirius doesn’t ask questions. He doesn’t pause for pleasantries. He just opens the door and wraps Regulus in his arms.
The Black family doesn’t hug. They don’t show affection. But Sirius had always been different from them.
"Oh God. Oh thank god." Sirius mutters into the cold black locks of his brother's hair.
He holds Regulus tight, cradling the back of his head in one hand, the other arm squeezing Regulus to his chest.
The younger boy doesn’t squirm, but he doesn’t hug back, either. He just stands there, unmoving. His shallow breaths rising and falling against Sirius.
He’s here. He’s alive. He’s safe.
Regulus's body is so small and thin under Sirius’s grip. Regulus has always been small and thin, but this is different. This is worse.
Sirius pulls away.
James pops his head into the hall. “Sirius, who was at the—oh.” James stops, seeing the sight before him. “I’ll put the kettle on, yeah?” he says, then leaves the brothers to their reunion.
Sirius grips Regulus by his shoulders, examining his brother from head to toe.
Regulus doesn’t move. He is still standing slightly hunched and leaning, exactly how he was in the doorway. He is completely still, his eyes half closed, his face a calm mask.
“Reg? Reg?” Sirius asks, a new wave of fear sprinting through him.
Sirius starts taking in other details. Regulus is pale. He’s always been pale, but now the only color on his face comes from two deep bruises under his eyes. Regulus never was great at sleeping. His dark hair is disheveled, nearly as much as James’s always is. He’s wearing short sleeves, even though it’s the dead of winter and he’s just come from outside. His lips are blue. He’s doubled a bit in pain. There’s dried blood on his left hand and a wet patch on his shirt. All of this is concerning, terrifying, even, but it isn’t the most disturbing part of his appearance. No, the most disturbing part is his eyes. They are blank. Empty. Like there’s nothing behind them at all.
Anger burns in Sirius’s stomach. He knows who did this. He doesn’t even need to ask.