say it to me
“You’re leaving,” said Regulus.
“I am,” said Sirius.
Between the black duffel bag slung over his shoulder and the fact that he was literally halfway out the door, it really ought to have been clear enough. It was three in the morning, not as though Sirius was popping out to the shop.
“Going to the Potters’?” asked Regulus.
Merlin. He wondered at himself. Had he followed Sirius just to stand at the bottom of the stairs, stalling and saying stupidly obvious things?
To his credit, Sirius only seemed mildly annoyed by this. But then again, it was dark.
“Yeah.” Sirius sighed. “Gonna rat me out?”
“No,” said Regulus.
“Coming with me?”
“No,” said Regulus again.
Sirius crossed his arms.
“Why’d you follow me, then?”
I don’t know, Regulus thought. I think it was to stand at the bottom of the stairs, stalling and saying stupidly obvious things.
Then, because you weren’t going to say goodbye.
He went with I don’t know. No point in looking stupid and vulnerable.
Sirius stared a moment. His shoulders softened.
“You could come with me,” he said. “I’d rather not leave you.”
Regulus twitched. A laugh bubbled up in his chest, rotting into sludge before it could escape him.
“Funny way of showing it.”
“Regulus, don’t start.”
“Oh, I won’t. I’d rather not wind you up,” said Regulus. “What, don’t believe me? Could it be because I’m actively winding you up?”
Sirius glowered.
“Prat. I just asked if you were coming with.”
“Because I caught you legging it. That’s hardly admissible as evidence—“
“I asked!”
“It’s fine Sirius, I don’t care, just don’t say you’d rather not leave me when we both know, if you had it your way, you’d be on the Knight Bus right now, and I’d be in my room, none the wiser—“
“If I had it my way, you’d be on the Knight Bus with me, five years ago! But you always say no, and I can’t keep asking you to go with me when I already know the answer, Regulus, I can’t—“
“ Right, at least you don’t have to feel guilty about that. Can you imagine if you left and you hadn’t checked that box? You’d be tucked at the foot of Potter’s bed tonight, on tenterhooks, wondering, Aw, bugger, should I have invited Regulus? I really didn’t want to leave him behind to clean up my mess—“
“I don’t sound like that!”
“— yes you do, this is you, Oh drat! I just hate that Regulus has to be the heir now instead of me! I hate that he’s going to be all alone this summer with a bunch of arseholes, while I drink lemonade that my new Mummy made, and play Quidditch all day with my Best Friend, James—“
“I can’t stay here for you!”
Regulus’s jaw clicked shut.
Sirius was red in the face, his breath unsteady.
Balls. He looked proper upset. Regulus felt— well, he only meant to wind Sirius up a bit, really. Something he said must have gone too far. He thought over his little tirade.
In retrospect… well.
In retrospect, it was still quite funny.
At the foot of Potter’s bed.
Pretty dead-on, that.
But also, in retrospect... he was being a bit of a prat, to be fair.
“I know,” said Regulus to the floor. A big, empty pit was growing inside of him.
Sirius scrubbed at his eyes with the heels of his hands. It was unpleasant to watch.
“You’ll be a good heir,” said Sirius thickly. “Much better than me.”
There was a scuff on the marble from Sirius’s stupid muggle boots. Regulus thought, It probably won’t be there tomorrow.
“Just— keep your head down, yeah? Like I taught you? Stay in your room, or the Library, and when you need anything— food, or help, or, just— call for Kreacher. Don’t beg them. Never beg.”
Regulus nodded. His throat ached.
“I have to go,” said Sirius, turning to face the London street.
Sirius started down the stairs.
The air was unusually hot, even for July. It was so heavy and dense that Regulus was sure he was going to drown in it.
Sirius reached the sidewalk.
It all seemed to be happening in slow motion, or on a delay maybe. He felt numb and shaky, his lips, his hands.
He’s actually leaving. I can’t do this. I don’t want to be heir. I can’t breathe. I hate July.
Sirius had left the door open. Why would he leave the door open? Was it an invitation for Regulus to follow him? Was it because he wasn’t fully set on leaving? Was this was just another one of his terrible pranks, and he was going to do a lap around the block and come back laughing? Was this real, was he, were they—
Regulus didn’t register himself running to the door until he was clinging to the ancient frame.
“Sirius,” he called, panting.
Sirius turned back immediately, eyes wild.
Stay. As he anticipated the word, he felt that familiar, stubborn tension where his tongue met his throat. He still got stuck sometimes, on sounds like ‘ st’, or ‘ str’. If he tried now, he’d stumble over stay.
Don’t go, he thought instead. He could manage that. Sirius would run right back to him, if he asked. He always did.
In the glow of the London street lamps, his brother’s eyes glinted like Silver Sickles.
“Yeah?” said Sirius.
He looked so tired. Hungry and breathless.
Sirius wasn’t supposed to look that way.
Regulus couldn’t leave with him. It would never work. Their parents would drag them both back with a vengeance that they could not protect each other from, and they would suffer dearly. By Sirius’s own logic, there was no sense in that.
We can’t take care of each other if we’re both hurting. That’s what Sirius always said. It’s why he took Regulus’s punishments. It’s why Regulus wasn’t allowed to defend him.
They couldn’t both get out. One of them would have to hurt.
It was all quite ironic, really. Not that Sirius had any appreciation for irony, the daft prick.
Regulus loved him. Regulus could appreciate irony.
He inhaled July.
“Don’t come back.”