Chapter 1
James Potter was sixteen the first time he met Regulus Black. Okay, so maybe that wasn’t entirely true. They’d been going to the same school for five years and Regulus was his best mate’s brother, so he had seen him around Hogwarts, but he had never actually spoken to him. But during the Summer Holidays of 1976 Regulus Back, who was fifteen at the time, ran away from home. And, true to his nature as a younger sibling he followed in his brother’s footsteps and ended up a bedraggled, half drowned mess on the Potter’s front doorstep. The knock had rung out at two in the morning and despite the late – or rather, early – hour Sirius had been the one to open the door.
Sirius said it was because he was a light sleeper, but James knew that Sirius wasn’t sleeping at all. He knew that there was a reason the curtains of Sirius’ bed remained open in the dorm, he knew the bruise-like shadows beneath Sirius’ eyes too well, he knew the sounds of Sirius suffocating in his own tears as he slept. James knew how Sirius thrashed violently in his sheets if there wasn’t another person nearby to wake him from the night terrors and he knew that if there was no one to wake him, Sirius wouldn’t wake, he couldn’t wake himself. Sirius had had dreams so bad that he had needed to be carried still writhing unconsciously to the hospital wing, trapped in the prison of his own mind by his body’s need for rest.
So, Sirius was the one to answer the door the night Regulus arrived. Sirius was the one to catch his little brother as he slumped forwards, exhausted and broken. He had stumbled his way over to the loungeroom where he had lowered a still shivering Regulus to the sofa that was just a bit to soft to be a decent seat but just solid enough to serve as a spare bed in emergency situations. And Sirius had already decided Regulus was staying, even before he dashed up the stairs to wake Effie and Monty. Not that the result would have been any different had he asked them first.
Sirius had gone to James’ room first. His voice had hitched as he shook James awake and in an instant James had been up, scrabbling on the bedside table for the glasses Sirius was already holding out for him. James had asked him what was wrong, but Sirius couldn’t speak properly past the pit of worry growing in his gut except to rasp out,
“Get Effie… Regulus… downstairs.” So James had darted past Sirius to slam his way through his parents bedroom door. Why he had felt the need to be so forceful Sirius was unsure as the door was never locked and even if it had been he could have just used the wand he had left on the nightstand but at the time neither boy had been thinking straight. Sirius had been half manic with worry for his baby brother and James was affected by Sirius’ stress. As James woke his parents rather unpleasantly with the urgency of it, Sirius had already reached the base of the stairs and kneeled next to Regulus’ shivering, unconscious form. He reached for a blanket, casting a nonverbal warming charm over him. The magic would have been more effective had he used his wand, but it was lying somewhere upstairs and he hadn’t quite mastered the wandless magic for the summoning charm.
The sound of footsteps thundering down the stairs had alerted him to the presence of the Potters as they all piled into the living room. The lounge wasn’t small by any means but with the three Potter’s and two Black brothers and the amount of distressed magical aura at least three of them were giving off it made the room feel crowded. Effie swept in, as concerned as she was, she was also the most level-headed. She flicked her wand – which she had had the common sense to grab – and the other couches shifted outwards to clear a working space for her. She had done an internship at St Mungo’s when she was younger and still had her license as a magical healer, so it did not take her long to set about checking Regulus for injuries, magical or otherwise.
Sirius couldn’t be separated from his brother’s side, but Fleamont ushered James away into the kitchen, requesting James help him prepare tea for everyone. James knew that really his father was trying to minimise the distractions in the room, but he went with it anyways. Though he couldn’t see Sirius from where he stood, nor hear him over the sound of the boiling kettle, he could sense Sirius’ panic ease as Effie quickly ruled out any physical injuries. He felt the fist around his heart ease its grip and his breathing start to come easier as if Sirius’ emotions were his own.
In the same way he felt his insides clench when Effie noted the traces of veritaserum in Regulus’ blood and the tell-tale signs of not one, but two Unforgiveable curses. While neither had been lethal, Euphemia was worried for the mental state Regulus would be in when he reawoke. Sirius couldn’t help but think of fourth year when McGonagall had first introduced them to Unforgiveable curses and Sirius had paused before mumbling that they couldn’t be unforgiveable. When McGonagall had asked him to elaborate, he had sensed that what he was about to say would result in extreme reactions and his voice had softened until it was barely more than a breath as he explained that they couldn’t be unforgiveable because his mother used them on him and Regulus quite often.
He would never forget the pure, unadulterated rage that had flickered across Minerva McGonagall’s face in that moment. Of course, in true McGonagall fashion, she had composed herself in a split second, but Sirius would always remember that fury on his behalf. And more then that, he would always remember that the anger he had seen had been for him, anger at what had happened to him.
It had been the moment Sirius realised that he wouldn’t make it through the rest of his schooling in that house. Grimmauld Place had never been a home, it held no love or comfort, no memories worth retaining. It was a house, that’s it. Perhaps Sirius had always known he would run away but the realisation that if he didn’t escape, he would die in that grim old place hadn’t hit him until that precise second.
He had told himself he would wait until he could bring Regulus with him though. The night he left he had begged Regulus to come with him, but Regulus had refused. It had only been five months since Sirius had run away but he could see what the weeks of solitude and the pressure of being the sole Black Family heir had done to his brother. He was curled on the couch, still soaked, his eyes shut eyes sunken in his hollow cheeked face. His hair which was curling more than usual from the damp was dull, lacking its usual lustre and it lay rather limp in a halo of darkness around his head. Sirius couldn’t help but think this was his fault. He should have tried harder.
Effie cast warming and drying charms around the unconscious form of Regulus Black, transfiguring the couch into a better bed. The Potters (Sirius was included in this grouping by everything but blood) sat around, mugs in hand like they hoped the heat from the tea itself could banish the cold sensation caused by the knowledge of the trials Regulus had gone through to get there that night.
They were all silent as they drank their tea. James sat next to Sirius, sides pressed against each other in silent comfort. After they finished Effie sent James and Monty off to bed, the two trudged up the stairs, a dejected silence hanging heavy in the air. Sirius refused to leave Regulus’ side so she helped him pull one of the armchairs closer to the transfigured couch and get settled, throwing a blanket over him and summoning his wand in case he needed anything during the night.
“Sirius dear, if you need Monty or I just call, we are only upstairs and I’m sure James will find his way back down here before the night ends.” She gave him a soft, sad smile. Sirius nodded slightly and she turned to head up the stairs.
“Effie.” She paused, “Thank you.” His voice was quiet and when Euphemia turned he was watching Regulus’ chest rise and fall as he breathed in a rare moment of peace. She smiled.