1. Teasing Him
"He's not an arse!" Regulus exclaimed, swatting away Sirius' hand as he reached to mess up his hair.
Sirius laughed, "Yes he is. Evan and Pandora might be alright but Barty Crouch is a complete dick."
"And you're not?" Regulus rebutted, "You and James go around making fun of Sev all the time!"
"Yeah cuz he deserves it!"
Regulus scoffed, laying back on the bed next to his brother. There was silence for a while before Sirius sighed and turned to look at him,
"I'm just messing around Reggie, I'm glad you made friends."
"Even Barty?"
Sirius rolled his eyes, "Yes even Barty fucking Crouch."
He can't help himself though, "Better than you moping around again like all of first year.” He adds.
"Shut up!" Regulus groaned.
"You don't remember? You were a sad pool of like depression and-"
Regulus jumped onto Sirius and slapped a hand over his mouth, "Shut up! I hate you." he laughed.
All of a sudden, he felt something wet slide along his hand and yanked it away in disgust. Sirius took advantage of his momentary surprise, sprung up and then tried to push him off the bed.
Regulus screamed, "Ew! You licked me!” Before desperately wiping his hand off on Sirius' pants.
Sirius was about to respond, huge grin on his face, when they heard footsteps they'd learned to recognize on the stairs.
Walburga flung the door open, her face alight with rage, "I thought I told the two of you to stay quiet when we have guests!" she shrieked.
A beat of silence.
Then, Sirius got off the bed and moved to stand in front of Regulus.
2. Protecting Him
The first time it happened, Sirius took the blame for something he didn’t do. Regulus was seven, Sirius only eight. For the first time, Walburga and Orion had left them home alone while they went to see some friends. Kreacher was there as well, but after breakfast he'd disappeared, muttering to himself about having to take care of annoying children. The boys had sat around, bored out of their minds for the first half of the day, before their restless energy transformed into a quiet game of catch, with a ball they’d stolen from one of the muggle neighbours. All was going well and Regulus found it to be quite fun, until he threw the ball a bit too hard and it flew past Sirius. They watched in horror as it crashed into the end table next to their father’s favorite armchair, knocking off the glass statue that had rested upon it. The defening sound of glass shattering filled the room. They froze, and a terrible silence soon replaced it.
The familiar crack of a house elf appearing broke Regulus out of his shock, “I-I didn’t mean to-.” He stuttered.
”We’ll clean it up.” Sirius interjected.
Kreacher stared with beady eyes and just shook his head as he conjured up a broom and dust collector.
“Maybe better to spend the rest of the day in your rooms, young masters.” He said when he finished clearing away the mess.
Sirius nodded, grabbed Regulus’ hand and started to make his way towards the stairs, before he stopped, and turned. “Thank you.”
Kreacher bowed. Then muttered, “Mistress will still notice it is gone.”
”Yes.” Sirius agreed, “She will.” He looked down at his little brother, pale faced, struggling to hold back tears and gripping onto his hand like it was a lifeline.
They were young. And yet they had already learned to fear their mother's wrath.
”Tell her it was my fault when she asks.” Sirius commanded, and Kreacher only bowed again.
Later that night Regulus sat on his bed, tears streaming down his cheeks, small hands covering his ears, trying to drown out the sounds of his brother’s screams downstairs.
As they grew older Regulus could count on one hand the number of times he had been hurt by their parents, which was saying something. Both he and Sirius couldn't remember a week without a dark bruise or cut appearing somewhere on Sirius' body, courtesy of their mother. Sirius would purposefully take the blame for mistakes Regulus had made, he would provoke Walburga to draw her attention away from his little brother, even shielding him from her violent hands.
Regulus had begged his brother repeatedly to stop. On a particularly cruel night, Sirius sat on Regulus' bed and let him clean the deep cuts on his shoulder and apply healing salve to the bruises blossoming around his neck. After his ministrations, Regulus whispered,
"You have to stop Sirius. I can handle it. I'm not a kid. You don't have to protect me anymore."
"If I don't, who will?" Sirius whispered back.
"Who protects you then?" Regulus asked.
Sirius smiled sadly at him and ruffled his hair, "I can protect myself little brother. Don't worry about me."
For once, Regulus didn't shake off his hand.
He also never stopped worrying.
The last time Sirius protected him, he wasn't jumping in front a spell or fist, but casting it instead. Regulus was in his fifth year, and by that point Sirius had already left home and despite many attempts, Regulus refused to speak to him.
So when he got caught snogging a sixth year and rumors began to spread throughout Slytherin that the pure-blooded heir of the House of Black was gay, he didn't tell Sirius about the nasty comments or dirty looks like he once would have.
Purely by chance, James, Sirius and Remus came around the corner, just as Mulciber shoved past Regulus, causing him to collide with the floor.
"Get out of the way, faggot." Mulciber sneered down at him.
Before Barty or Evan could react, Sirius, who'd apperently decided pulling his wand out of his pocket would take too long, ran over and brought his fist down hard on Mulciber's nose.
Mulciber yelled and reached up to clutch at his face as blood spurted through his fingers.
"What the fuck did you say? " Sirius shouted, finally pulling out his wand.
Mulciber smiled, showing teeth smeared with blood, and also drew his wand, "How poetic, the blood traitor coming to defend his fag brother."
Sirius shook with rage, but before either of them could utter another word, Professor McGonagall hurried down the corridor.
She instructed Evan and Barty to take Mulciber to Madame Pomfrey and then turned a sharp look towards Sirius,
"Mr. Black, you can follow me to my office."
The next day, Sirius cornered Regulus after his potions class.
"Why didn't you tell me?"
Regulus stayed silent, glaring up at him.
"Reg I just wanted to help-"
"I don't need your help." Regulus hissed coldly, and then shoved past his brother.
Later, he would realize Sirius didn't only do it for him. He saw his brother and Remus walking a few days after, hands interlocked, and he remembered how Remus' face had paled when he heard the vile word. After their relationship was revealed it was all anyone could talk about, and once again, Regulus was quickly forgotten.
Sirius had always felt the need to jump in, to protect him, and it only ended in him hurt or in trouble.
Regulus hated him for it.
But mostly, he hated himself.
3. Leaving Him
Regulus Black vividly remembered the day Sirius left 12 Grimmauld Place for good. He had woken up that morning with a bad feeling in his gut. Though, that could've just been the blow to his stomach from Walburga's fist last night when he tried to make her stop kicking Sirius' limp body that was curled up on the floor. When he made his way downstairs, his mother and father sat at the dining table, as Kreacher served more eggs and toast. Orion Black flipped the page of that morning’s daily mail and Regulus made out the headline "Dark Activity Increasing" in bold before sitting down as well.
Sirius never came down for breakfast.
The brothers had been distant with each other for the better part of the year. Regulus surrounded himself with friends whose parents held the same ideals as his, and he had obediently crafted himself into the son his parents wanted. It was easier that way. Sirius on the other hand seemed to hold James and his parents in a high regard. He came home for holidays and summers, only for screaming matches with his mother to erupt, both arguing what was "right".
That evening, during dinner, Walburga put her fork down and looked between her two sons, settling her gaze on Sirius.
"Sirius, you're sixteen now, and it's time for you to understand what is required of you as the Heir to The House of Black. Tonight, you will accompany you're father and I to Cygnus Black’s house for the meeting. "
Sirius scoffed, "I'm not going to one of your stupid "pure-blood" gatherings."
Walburga was out of her chair in an instant. "This isn't a joke boy!" She stormed around the table, grabbed Sirius' left arm and pushed up the sleeve, digging her nails into the skin at his forearm.
"Today was the last day for your silly disobediance. The dark lord will mark you and you will live up to your name."
Sirius ripped his arm from her painful grasp, causing his mother to stumble backwards, "What the fuck are you talking about marking me? I won't sit around and follow your orders like a fucking puppy." At that he shot a pointed glance to Regulus, who just looked down at the table. "I'm tired of hearing about how you think we're better than everyone else. Some of the best people I know are muggleborns and halfbloods. I'd die before I let you and your fucking lord touch me."
Regulus had never seen his mother look less than her best. She prided herself on being immaculately put together, something she forced upon her family too. Her sons never had scratches on their knees or mud on their pants like other children. No. They were to be perfect at all times. So the dishelved state of her clothes from her loss of balance and the wild look in her eyes as she stared at her first son startled him. Regulus had never seen such pure hatred lining her face.
And yet it was still a shock when their mother raised her wand and spoke one unforgivable word.
Crucio
Instantly Sirius froze in place and there was silence. Then he collapsed to the ground writhing in excruciating pain. Agonizing, horrible screams filled the room, and Regulus knew then that it was a sound he'd never forget.
In the end, Sirius sobbed on the floor and finally begged his mother to stop after the fifth round.
"I'll go! I swear I'll go and I'll get the mark. Just please... please stop!" He cried.
Regulus hated every minute of it. He had never heard his brother beg. Not once. There had been many times where he should have, where others would have. But throughout all of the years of abuse, Sirius had never once begged for her to stop. He had told Regulus once, "I won't give her that satisfaction."
At this, Regulus threw himself over his brother's body. "Mother, enough. He understands now. Let me get him cleaned up and ready and he will go." Regulus shushed the soft sound of protest that still left Sirius' lips.
Walburga's stare seemed to burn through Regulus. But she stopped. She put her wand away, then turned and walked out of the room without a glance back.
Regulus helped Sirius up to his room and frantically searched through his stash of healing supplies. Pushing aside bottles and salves he realized this wasn't just another cut or bruise. He had no idea what to do.
"I'm ok Reg." Sirius coughed and then croaked, "Stop flinging things around. Besides I'm not actually going to that meeting."
Regulus whirled around, "You have to" he said. "She almost- She almost killed you Sirius."
"But she didn't." He tried to smile, but it was more of a grimace, then doubled over in another coughing fit. When he lifted his head, his lips were smeared red.
"Stop it! This isn’t a game Sirius. You can't just avoid it and make jokes like you do with everything else. She's going to make you!" He yelled.
Sirius flinched and then Regulus watched as a tear slowly fell down his cheek.
"Then I can't stay here anymore." he said softly.
4. Asking Him To Leave
"Come with me." Sirius had begged him as he stuffed clothes into his trunk.
Regulus had shook his head.
"We can leave and go to James'. His parents won't care, they'll help us." Sirius continued.
"I can't." Regulus' voice broke.
"Why not? Do you want to stay with them? Do you actually agree with all of it?" Sirius had asked, a look of hurt crossing his face.
At that Regulus had let out a slightly hysterical laugh, "It’s not about whether I agree with it. You don't understand. You're never here anymore and you spend half the summer with James." The name was said with disgust. "You don't know what's going on Sirius. Things are happening, and just because you can't see them doesn't mean they aren't real. You don't fucking know everything!" Subconciously his fingers tugged at the sleeve of his left arm.
"And you do?" Sirius had sneered.
"Yes I do!" Regulus had shouted back, "I've been to a meeting." he confessed bitterly.
Sirius had staggered back in shock. "What? When?" His voice trembled as he asked.
"Doesn't matter." Regulus dismissed. "Point is, while you and your Gryffindor friends spend the year in your bubble, Barty, Evan, and I do what we have to. We don't have a choice."
"You do Reg." Sirius said softly and carefully approached his brother, gripping his shoulders and looking into the eyes that matched his own, "Come with me. I'll keep you safe. We never have to come back here and you never have to go to another meeting. It'll just be us."
Regulus hesitated and for a moment Sirius thought he might agree. Then his eyes hardened and he shoved Sirius' hands away.
"I can't."
The words were final and both brothers knew something irreperable had been broken between them.
Regulus knew Walburga would never let both of them go. She'd had two sons for a reason.
He was furious at Sirius for asking him to leave as if it was that easy. Like it was a simple choice.
So, after his mother furiously burned Sirius' name from their family tree and took out the full extent of her anger on the son who stayed, she'd taken Regulus to another meeting.
He had winced as painful dark ink seeped into his skin and that night tears had streamed down his cheeks as he looked at the ugly mark branded on his forearm.
He hated Sirius for leaving him.
5. Replacing Him
Regulus Black hated James Potter.
He hated his big smile and his over the top personality. He hated that James was always nice to him whenever he saw him, hated the pretty golden flecks in his eyes and his constant need to rake his fingers through his hair.
An act that shouldn't be as attractive as it was.
But most of all, he hated when James Potter would call Sirius his brother.
He first realized this in his first year, sitting on the train in the compartement with his brother and his friends, listening to them catch up. He had zoned out of their conversation for a bit when James' voice pulled his attention.
"I mean we're practically like brothers anyway-" he was saying.
Regulus felt a horrible prickly sensation fill his chest.
Sirius already had a brother and he was sitting right across from them, even if James and Sirius had forgotten that fact.
But then Sirius left James, Remus and Peter, hours later when the train had stopped and Regulus' nerves kept his face pale and hands shaking. He told them to go ahead and that he'd catch up, and Sirius walked Regulus over to all the other first years, hugged him and told him it didn't matter what house he was in, that he would always look after him.
Regulus forgot all about James' previous remark.
In his second year, he watched Sirius send a letter back home, asking if he could spend half of the summer with James at the Potter house. Regulus tried not to feel guilty for wishing their mother would say no. A week later, Regulus watched from the Slytherin table, as Sirius and James whooped and celebrated, already making plans for their time together. Jealousy made his sweet morning juice taste bitter on his tongue.
In Regulus' fifth year, Sirius ran away to James' house. Regulus didn't call him brother after that.
~
In the end, Sirius would never know what Regulus had done. As the years passed, he thought of Reggie only as a kid he used to know. Regulus Black was just another Black who had stayed loyal to the family name, a Death Eater through and through.
Then, in 1979, his little brother died at eighteen. And nothing was ever the same.
Sirius didn’t speak for a week.
Years later, when he escaped Azkaban, he visited the empty grave as Padfoot. His mind was fractured, slipping between memories—one moment, the boy he had grown up with, all bright eyes and innocence; the next, a hardened face, etched with bitterness and hate.