Summer Silence
Regulus sat by the window in the drawing room, eyes fixed on the heavy front gate through the sheer lace curtain. The house was quiet—too quiet. It reminded him of the year before, when silence had been the only thing left after the screaming.
But today was different. Today, Sirius was coming home.
He hadn’t written. Not once. Not for Christmas, not for Regulus’s birthday. Not even a postcard. But Regulus told himself that didn’t matter. Hogwarts was busy. Sirius had new friends. He was probably having too much fun to think about home, about Regulus.
Still, he watched the gate like a hawk, heart pounding.
He had imagined this moment a hundred times. Sirius walking through the front door, ruffling his hair like he used to, laughing that laugh that made everything else fall away. Maybe they’d sneak onto the roof again, talk about things they didn’t understand yet, pretend the world wasn’t pressing in so tightly around them, and things would start to feel a little more like they used to. Before Hogwarts. Before Gryffindor. Before everything went to hell.
The front door opened.
Regulus jumped to his feet as the heavy oak door creaked open. He heard the scrape of a trunk dragged across the floor, heavy footsteps. He didn’t know whether to bolt out and greet him or wait.
Then he couldn’t stand it any longer.
He rushed to the staircase.
There he was.
Sirius stood in the entryway, taller, thinner, different. His hair was longer, messier. His eyes were tired. The crimson trim of his robes stood out like a warning sign. Gryffindor. Regulus felt the air tighten, their mother’s rage already radiating through the house like heat before a storm.
Walburga stormed into the hallway, her voice a blade.
“You will not disgrace this family further. Do you understand me?” she spat. “You will behave. You will keep that filthy house out of my sight, or you won’t see next term.”
Sirius didn’t flinch. “Brilliant. Can’t wait,” he muttered.
That earned him a fistful of his hair and a hissed threat, sharp and low. Regulus winced as Sirius’s head was yanked back, but his brother didn’t cry out. Just stared her down.
“Do you understand?” She hissed.
“Yes,” he growled.
She released him with a shove and a final glare, then disappeared down the hall.
Regulus stood frozen at the top of the stairs. He wanted Sirius to look up, to see him, to smile. To say that everything was going to be alright.
“Sirius,” he said, soft and cautious. “You’re home.”
Sirius looked at him.
And then looked away.
“Unfortunately,” he muttered, hoisting his trunk and stomping up the stairs. He brushed past Regulus without a glance.
Regulus didn’t move. The sting of that moment pierced deeper than any curse. He stayed rooted in place until the silence wrapped around him again like a second skin.
He didn’t know what hurt more—being alone for that entire year, or realizing that now, even with Sirius home, he might still be all alone.
Eventually, he followed. That tiny moment of being brushed past like he was no one—it stings worse than anything their parents ever did.
He quietly makes his way to his brother's room, each step a little slower, more cautious. He doesn’t know what he’s walking into. He doesn’t even know what he wants to say.
Sirius’s door was ajar. Regulus hesitated, then knocked once, softly, and stepped in.
His brother stood with his back to him, trunk half-unpacked, clothes strewn across the floor.
“Sirius…” Regulus’s arms wrapped around his own ribs, like he could hold himself together. “I… I missed you.”
At first it didn’t look like his brother was going to respond, his back was to him and Regulus could see the tension in his shoulder, but after a moment Sirius stopped and let out a deep breath.
Then, a muttered, “I missed you too.”
Regulus’s breath caught. It wasn’t much, but it was something.
He lingered. Watched his brother, uncertain.
“Do you want to go to the roof?” he offered, desperate to reach for something they’d shared. “We haven’t in…a while.”
Sirius sighed, back still turned. “No, Regulus. I don’t want to do that.”
The words weren’t angry. Just tired.
“I just… I wanted to talk,” Regulus said, voice barely above a whisper. “I thought maybe…”
Sirius turned, eyes flashing—not in fury, but frustration. “I don’t want to talk, okay? Just get lost and leave me alone! I don’t even want to be here! I want to be with my friends, not stuck here in this fucking house with you!” Sirius’ voice cracked with frustration, anger bubbling just beneath the surface.
Regulus recoiled, as if he’d been slapped. His eyes widened, and a cold, hollow feeling flooded his chest, spreading like ice. He stood frozen in the doorway, unable to breathe, as his brother’s words hung in the air between them like an insurmountable wall. The sharpness of Sirius’s voice cut deeper than Regulus had expected. He could see the raw, unchecked anger in his brother’s posture, but the coldness in his tone was what really gutted him.
He couldn’t move. His heart hammered in his chest, and for a moment, all he could do was stare at Sirius. His brother’s back was still turned, shoulders tense, arms rigid as he continued to sort through his trunk, refusing to face him. The silence in the room felt suffocating. It was as if the anger in the air had swallowed every chance of understanding, leaving nothing but emptiness between them.
Regulus wanted to say something—anything—that would bridge the distance, that would make Sirius look at him the way he used to. Why are you acting like this?What happened to us? But the words were trapped somewhere deep inside him, too heavy, too painful to bring to the surface. The lump in his throat felt like a stone, crushing him from the inside.
"Fine," Regulus whispered, voice barely audible, like it was meant for himself more than anyone else. His heart was aching, but he didn’t have the strength to voice it. He felt so small, so invisible—like the little boy he had been before all of this, the boy who used to chase after his older brother’s approval, only now he wasn’t even sure it was something worth seeking anymore.
He turned away, but every step he took away from the room felt like dragging his feet through thick, unrelenting mud. The house felt colder now—no warmth from Sirius, no connection, just the oppressive silence that followed him through the empty hallways. The walls seemed to close in on him as if the weight of everything unsaid, everything that had built up between them, was pressing down on him from all sides.
His brother didn’t want to be here. He didn’t want to be with him.
Regulus knew, deep down, that this house was a cage for both of them, but it hadn’t occurred to him that Sirius would be this desperate to escape him. For a fleeting second, Regulus had dared to believe that maybe, just maybe, things could go back to how they were before. That the space between them could heal. But now… now, he could see that hope had been nothing more than a fragile dream.
As he reached the door to his room, he stopped for a moment, the pain of that realization hanging heavily in the air. His hand rested on the doorknob, and his chest felt hollow—like a part of him had just cracked open. I thought you’d come back for me, Sirius. I thought you’d come back for us. But there was no answer, no comforting voice. Just the oppressive silence, closing in tighter with each passing second.
∼⭒⋆☆✶☆⋆⭒∽
“What the fuck is wrong with you Black!?” Barty's angry voice came as the memory cleared. A hard glare on his face as he looks at the older Black brother.
Sirius looked like he didn’t even hear the angry voice, just staring at the blank screen where the memory had played out. Regulus looked at his brother, trying to read the expression on his face but being unable to.
The memory was not a pleasant one for Regulus, he never liked to show weakness and this? This was just pathetic. To see his younger self look so small and meak, begging his brother to just spend some time with him.
It was truly embarrassing…
But Sirius’s hand, still gripping Regulus’s arm, was trembling.
“Est-ce que je t’ai vraiment dit ça?” (Did I really say that to you?) Sirius whispered, eyes wide with something like disbelief.
“Oh, forgot that, did you?” Regulus shot back, voice sharp—but it faltered, just a little, the sharpness of his words betraying his internal turmoil. The anger simmered beneath his skin, but it was tangled up with the pain he’d been holding onto for too long.
Sirius looked up at him then, his silver eyes wide with something close to regret, a flicker of guilt, but it was so fleeting that Regulus barely noticed it before it was gone. His brother opened his mouth to say something, but then he just... stopped. The words caught in his throat. He let out a frustrated sigh, dragging his hand through his messy hair before he looked away again, facing the blank screen. The tension in the air thickened as the silence stretched between them. Around them Regulus heard the whispers of the student body, a low, constant hum in his ears.
“You don’t get it,” Regulus said, voice low. “I was just a kid. And you came back and... it was like you didn’t see me anymore.”
Sirius looked pained, but said nothing.
“Je ne voulais pas te blesser,” (I didn’t want to hurt you,) Sirius finally said, his voice a little hoarse, like it was struggling to get the words out. “J'étais en colère… Je suis toujours en colère. Mais pas contre toi. Je n'ai jamais voulu te donner l'impression… que tu ne comptais pas.” (I was angry... I’m still angry. But not at you. I never wanted to make you feel like... like you didn’t matter.)
The words were quiet, almost too quiet for Regulus to hear over the pounding of his own heart and the hum of the students talking about what they had just seen. But they hung in the air, and for a moment, Regulus could almost believe them.
Sirius turned around then, facing him fully. His expression was no longer filled with anger, but with something more complex. Regulus didn’t know if it was pity or guilt or something else entirely, but it was there. The same old regret he had seen in his brother’s eyes when they were younger, when things were simpler.
“Reg,” Sirius said, his voice softer now, less angry, but still holding that sharp edge. “I never wanted to leave you behind. You have to understand that. I just... I couldn’t stay there anymore. I had to leave, for me. I couldn’t be part of that anymore. But I didn’t mean... I didn’t mean to make you feel like you didn’t matter.”
Regulus let out a small, bitter laugh. “Well. You did.”