No Greater Sin

The first time Regulus boarded the Hogwarts Express, Sirius was holding his hand. They’d stood side by side on the platform, letting their mother briskly brush non-existent lint from their shoulders and make comments about their posture. She reminded them to keep their grades up; reminded them what would happen if they didn’t. Leaned down to whisper to Regulus: 

“You’ll get sorted into Slytherin. I’m certain.” It was quiet enough that Regulus was sure no one heard, and just loud enough he was certain Sirius had. 

Regulus swallowed and taken a step forward. “What if… what if I don't?” It was a suspicion that crept below his skin, still too fragile to become anything resembling hope. 

Walburga’s eyes hardened. “You will.” 

Regulus had gripped Sirius’s arm tighter, at that time still disgracefully dependent. She was right. Slytherin was where he belonged, he needed to remember that.

His mother smacked his hand away, muttering something about Regulus getting too old for that sort of stuff. The whistle had blown and the boys turned, rushing across the platform and onto the train. Regulus sent one last glance over his shoulder. Sirius never once looked back. 

--- 

Now, all these years later, Regulus has no idea where Sirius is. He stands alone, much taller now, not speaking. His mother still waits next to him, because heaven forbid he leaves her sight for more than a moment. She’s saying something, but Regulus isn’t listening. He’s scanning the platform, searching. He just needs to see. He just- he needs to make sure. And there, just there, a flash of shaggy dark hair, the glint of a silver earring, that’s him. Regulus' chest cracks open, a tiny sliver of relief peaking through. He ignores it. Sirius bounds forward to meet Lupin and Pettegrew, followed closely by Potter. Regulus studies the four of them. The way Lupin towers above them all, the way Pettigrew gained a few pounds over the summer. Sirius is laughing, his arm thrown over Potter’s shoulders. And Potter- he’s grinning, of course. Happy. Regulus despises him. 

“-egulus? Are you listening?” Shit. His mother. He should’ve been paying closer attention. 

“What?” 

“Mon dieu, Regulus, you need to listen when I speak. Are you prepared? Has the Dark Lord made his instructions clear?” He can feel her eyes on him. 

“Yes.” He winces at the hesitation in his voice, then flinches hard as she reaches up and swats him on the side of his head, tsking.

“No. Be sure. You won’t disappoint the Dark Lord.” Her gaze is sharp. He nods. “Say it.”

“I won’t disappoint.” He keeps his voice steady, not quite confident but getting there. Firm.

She glances up, about to say something else, when the whistle blows. Regulus lets out a small internal sigh of relief and nods goodbye before turning towards the train.

He meets Evan in the corridor. He clasps Regulus’s shoulder and the two of them make their way to meet the others in their compartment. 

"How was your summer? Your mum try to marry you off yet?” Evan grins. His hair has grown over the summer, flopping in his eyes.

Regulus smirks. “The weddings next week. You coming? I’ll let you be the flower girl.”

When they make it to the carriage, Regulus slides in next to Dorcas, letting Evan find his place next to Pandora and Barty. 

“How’s your summer Dora?” Evan asks, leaning over Barty to grab some Bertie Bott's Beans out of Pandora’s box. 

She shrugs, swatting his hand away. “I expanded my vegetable garden without telling my parents. I think they’re mad.” She smirks. “Worth it.” 

Dorcas raises a brow. “How big did you go?” 

Regulus can't wait for this train ride to be over. He longs to find an empty classroom where he can pull out his violin and just play. His fingers itch to reach for his suitcase. 

Pandora smiles. “I wrapped it around the house. Might’ve cut off access to the drive. I planted the flowers on the roof.” Her eyes flick to Regulus. She frowns. “What’s wrong? You’re more sullen than usual.”

Regulus glances up, caught off guard. “Nothing.” He hates it when she does that. 

Barty acts confused, glancing between them. “What are you on about Dora? He looks... normal."

Regulus nods in agreement and ignores Pandora's protest. His friends slip into gentle conversation and Regulus lets his head fall back against the seat, staring out the window. He takes deep breaths, keeping his mind calm. He’s heading to school, which is usually a relief. This time though, he’s managed to drag his parents along with him. Their expectations. Their rules. Good grades, suitable friends- these were no longer expectations. They were given. They were assumed. But the task ahead of him, the monumental fucking expectation that was waiting at the end of this train ride- that was new. 

He can feel his mothers claws on his shoulders, her voice in his ear. Her whispers slide down his throat with every breath. He doesn’t know how to shut her up. He closes his mouth, refuses to inhale until his chest shakes and he’s forced to part his lips with a desperate gasp. 

The Dark Lord is there too, on his other side. He can feel his slimy words, the snake-speak that seems to curl out of his mouth and wrap its way around Regulus’s throat. He can feel them both, the Dark Lord and his mother, one on each shoulder. Neither is an angel.

He wonders if it’s common to have two devils. 

---

“You think we’ll take home the cup this year?” Evan asks, laying on his back and staring at the ceiling.

Regulus tucks his clothes into his drawers and shrugs. “Gyrfindor’s pretty good.”

“Yeah, well. We’re better.”

“You don’t even play.”

Evan lifts his head from the bed to glare at him. “I can still care. I don’t know why you’re not more invested.”

“I’m very invested. I have a reputation to protect.”

Evan rolls his eyes. “Hogwarts’ best seeker, yeah yeah. I think you’ve got that one secured, Reg.”

“I guess we’ll have to see.” But Evan’s right. Regulus isn’t threatened. 

“How was your summer, like actually?”

Regulus shoves the drawer closed. “It was fine.” 

“Didn’t kill your brother yet then?”

Oh. 

He doesn’t know.

Regulus grabs more clothes from his trunk. “Sirius left.”

On the bed, Evan goes very still. “What?”

All of the Sacred 28 families had heard, one way or another. Word travels fast among the elite. The Rosier’s, though, aren’t entirely involved with that side of things. “He’s at the Potter’s now.” Regulus says, folding an extra pair of robes. 

Evan sits up. “Wait, what? And your parents just let him go?”

Regulus does his best not to shut down. “I’m not so sure they had a choice. Besides. I make a better heir and they know it.”

He can feel Evan’s eyes on him. “He just walked out? Have you two talked?”

“No.”

“But-”

“Look, Evan, I don’t care. He’s free to make his own decisions. Free and able, apparently.”

“I guess so,” Evan mutters. “Huh.” He pauses. “...Doesn’t he know, like, a lot?”

Regulus shuts the drawer. “My parents never really let him get close to all that business. He made it very clear he’d sell them out in a second.”

Evan rolls his eyes. “I thought Gryfindors were supposed to be loyal.”

Regulus ignores the way that stings. “That’s conditional, it seems.”

“So do you think your parents will leave him be?”

“I guess so.”

“At the Potter’s? Really? I know Potter and Sirius were friends, but to live with him…”

“I know.”

“It’s just all so dramatic.”

“We’re the Noble and Most Ancient House of Black. It’s in our nature.” Regulus fixes him with a look. “You haven’t unpacked yet.”

“...No.”

“Why?”

“We were talking.”

“And yet here I am, trunk empty.”

“Fine.” Evan pushes himself off the bed and pulls his trunk towards him. 

And that’s that.

---

That night, Regulus creeps out of his dorms and into the halls. The dark clings to the corners of the castle, only broken by small patches of candlelight. He lifts his lighted wand higher, brushes his curls out of his eyes, and moves forward. The Dark Lord had mentioned the entrance to the Chamber lies somewhere on the 2nd floor. Other than that, he’d been frustratingly sparse with the information he’d provided. Regulus doesn’t even know what beast lies within. No one's found the entrance to the chamber in decades. Even Dumbledore failed. It was impossible. 

He pads down the stairs softly, not wanting to wake any of the paintings on the walls. He rounds the corner and stops abruptly. There, two boys are giggling, their arms full of sweets and what looks like dessert from dinner. It’s Pettigrew and Potter, because of course it is, which means Lupin and Sirius can't be far behind. They never are. Regulus takes a deep breath and sets his face, remaining coolly neutral. He raises his wand slightly and moves forward. Potter glances up and his face falls as he straightens.

“Potter. Pettigrew.” Regulus doesn’t look at them, fully intending to keep walking. Maybe this didn’t need to be harder than that. But no, never. Not when Sirius was involved. Because there, in the space next to Potter, the air moves oddly. Sirius and Lupin appear, pockets also bulging with muffins. Sirius holds some sort of fabric that shifts in the light. Regulus cocks his head and narrows his eyes. He’s read about something similar somewhere, but what … ah. An invisibility cloak. How had his brother managed to get his hands on one of those? He’s distracted by Sirius' grey eyes, locked on Regulus. So fiery. Sirius had always burned hot. Regulus matches his glare. 

“Regulus.” And immediately, the sound of Sirius’s voice washes over him. Regulus hasn’t heard it all summer. He clings to it, pushes it away, hates the way it scratches just below his skin. 

“Sirius. A little late to be out of bed, don’t you think?”

Sirius ignores him. “How was your summer, Reg? Nice and cozy?” 

“Not quite as cozy as yours, I imagine.” Regulus lets his eyes flick to Potter, who’s studying him cautiously. Regulus doesn’t let his gaze linger. 

“Not a full Death Eater yet, then?"

"You'd know if you were still around."

Sirius scoffs. "Like you ever told me anything when I was."

Regulus should've known they'd instantly jump to this sudo-fight conversation. There's too much here, too much to not say. Every sentence is emotionally charged, locked and loaded with the weight of a thousand things they never said when they still had time. 

“Sirius,” Potter says, stepping forward to put a hand on Sirius’s arm. “Leave it. Let’s go.” Sirius shakes him off. 

Regulus rolls his eyes at Sirius’s dramatics. “Listen to your goons, Sirius. I’ll see you around.” He pushes past Potter, but Sirius moves quickly, blocking his path. 

“How’s mum, Reggie?” His voice is cruel. A knife in his sleeve, a shot aimed to kill.

“You could always ask her, Sirius. I’m sure she’d love a letter.” 

“And how are you? À quel point t'a-t-elle blessé?” Sirius’s eyes glint. Next to him, Pettigrew and Potter exchange worried glances. 

To Sirius, every cut, bruise, or curse on Regulus’s body would be proof that he was right to leave. That being at that house brought nothing but pain. Regulus refuses to give him- to give anyone- that luxury.

“What does it look like?” 

Regulus watches as Sirius looks him up and down. He waits, drawing his magic up and over his skin. An extra layer, always. Eventually, Sirius nods, but there’s something sour in the twist of his mouth.

“Still her little pet, then.” Sirius says, taking a step back. And- just- how does he not get it? What doesn’t he understand? I have to be, Regulus wants to scream. If I’m her pet it's because you left me no choice. You handed me a collar when you went out that window.  

“Guess so.” Regulus says instead. Sirius, if anything, gets madder. If there’s one thing Regulus knows about his brother, it's that Sirius thrives on attention and- subsequently- reactions. Don’t give him one, he gets frustrated. It's Regulus’s favorite game. 

Sirius is looking at him with pure disdain written into every feature. “Good to see you’re still a fucking coward, Reg.”

Regulus moves before Sirius can say anything else, walking as quickly as he can down the hall. His steps echo in the silence. 

Naturally he pauses, turns back.

“Dad sends his best.” 

Then he's forcing his feet to move, rounding the corner and leaving his brother and his friends behind him. He has to keep looking.