Chapter 2
September 5, 1975
Regulus
This week has been nothing but a blur to him. He hasn’t had a normal sleep ever since he left Hogwarts back in late June, waking up from nightmares every single night. Regulus hoped he would feel better once he got back to Hogwarts, but it seems like this summer has changed him completely. He feels like every bone, every cell, every atom, and every molecule of his body has been irrevocably destroyed, and it will take ages for him to regenerate himself piece by piece.
He gets up, showers, changes his sheets, goes to breakfast, goes to classes, has lunch, does his homework, goes to dinner, showers, and forces himself to sleep, only to wake up an hour later from the nightmare he has to relive every night. He can barely pay attention to anything, his mind constantly switching from one thing to another.
Friday starts pretty much the same. Regulus doesn’t have many plans for today – except, maybe, finally getting some rest from this draining week. He has to be even more dedicated to his studies this semester, as at the end of his 5th year he will have to pass his OWLs, the results of which will determine whether he will stay at Hogwarts for the next two years, or will be forced to dedicate himself completely to the family, provided he gets at least one E.
Regulus spots Dorcas waiting for him in the common room, legs bouncing, obviously dissatisfied with something. He wonders what could have happened so early in the morning to piss her off.
‘What the fuck took you so long? I’ve been standing here for ages,’ Dorcas says, rolling her eyes, and turning to head to the Great Hall.
Regulus smirks, following her. So he is the reason she’s mad.
‘Morning, Dor. It’s very nice to see you in high spirits,’ Regulus pauses, noticing a small bruise just above the collar of her shirt. ‘I was taking a shower, not as if you could relate, judging from your looks. Crazy night, ha? Who are they?’ he says, clearly enjoying himself. If his love life (life in general) is shitty, and least he can live vicariously through his friends.
Dorcas follows Regulus’ gaze and, covering her neck, says ‘None of your business, Black.’
‘Whatever, Meadows. Now, what’s the emergency? It’s not as if we had any classes together. Or did you decide to go through the program of the fifth year again?’
She smiles and bites her lip, clearly hesitating. ‘I need you to do me a favour. We’re friends, right?’
‘’Course we’re friends. What is it?’
Dorcas stops in the hallway, dragging Regulus to the nearest empty classroom and casting a silencing charm.
‘Promise you won’t ask any questions or make fun of me. I swear I will kill you,’ she says in a threatening voice, which Regulus finds nothing but amusing.
‘Sorry, Dor, but I can’t. I have to know what I have to deal with. What if I sign up for something reckless?’
Dorcas smirks. ‘Well, it actually is a bit reckless.’
‘I’m all ears.’
She comes up to him, taking both of his hands in hers. ‘I need you to steal a snitch for me.’
Regulus looks at her, clearly not amazed. ‘Well, I don’t see any problem in stealing one snitch, but I don’t understand why you want me to do this.’
‘I said no questions, Black.’
‘I never said I agreed to it, Meadows. Now spill it.’
Dorcas lets go off Regulus’ hands and starts spinning round the classroom, dramatically gesticulating.
‘I don’t need just any snitch, Reg. I need the snitch which McKinnon caught during the last Slytherin-Gryffindor match.’
Regulus smirks.
‘No, Reg, it’s not what you think. I need it for a prank,’ Dorcas pleads, clearly trying to defend herself.
‘Prank,’ he repeats, not believing her for a second, but deciding to play along. She silently nods. ‘And why exactly can’t you steal it yourself, then?’
‘If I get caught, I will be in detention for ages. I have no relation to Quidditch, so no matter what I say, I will end up in trouble. If you get caught, though, which, I’m sure, won’t happen, you could come up with an excuse. You’re a seeker, tell them you needed some emotional support from holding a snitch or whatever. You’ve never broken any school rules,’ Regulus smiles to himself, ‘they wouldn’t be harsh on you.’
‘Okay, Dor. I’ll do it for you.’
It’s very convenient when everyone believes he’s a dutiful student. Regulus would care about getting in trouble if he weren’t sure he would get away with it. The only question left unanswered now is how to get into Professor Hooch’s office undetected and make sure the blame is put on someone other than him.
‘Thank you, Reg, I knew I could count on you!’ she pulls him in a hug, and he does his best not to push her away. The only person he has learnt to trust in terms of physical affection is Remus, and he’s still learning to be more open with the rest of his friends. So, against his worst judgement, he hugs her back, and slowly withdraws. ‘Now, shall we go for breakfast?’
When classes are over, Regulus goes to the library, looking for a book he hasn’t read yet, which is a challenging task. Sometimes he thinks he has read every single book at the Hogwarts library, as every ‘new’ book he chooses to read gives him déjà vu.
Today he decides to reread A History of Magic. Regulus thinks it’s a boring book and doesn’t deserve half as much attention as it gets at Hogwarts, but it gives him a sense of stability. History doesn’t repeat itself, of course it doesn’t. But wizards make the same mistakes under different circumstances. No one actually learns from the past, and it’s a bit depressing. Is it all for nothing? Can we never breach this cursed circle of human flaws? ‘We can’t,’ Regulus thinks. It would make us someone we are not. ‘We are flawed’. Everyone is flawed, and it’s a constant. Everyone makes mistakes, and it’s a fact. The greatest wizards and witches of all were also wrong. You can’t always be right. It would disturb nature’s delicate balance.
Regulus needs this reassurance that he’s not alone in it. That others were also wrong. That others also made bad choices and were mistaken, taking things for what they never were. But what about him? Can his actions be justified? For Merlin’s sake, he’s just a kid. He can’t be that bad, can he?
He never considered himself a good person. He knows for a fact that he is not, and he’s not sure he wants to be. He just wants to be good enough for him. He was the only person who could ever see the light in him, who showed him that he could also shine as bright.
Sirius. His big brother. The one who would always take a fall for him. The one who would leak his wounds after their parents locked them both in a tiny cupboard because they didn’t behave. The one who would sing him to sleep with that muggle song he overheard somewhere.
The one who stood up to their parents and put Regulus under much more pressure. The one who never knew it became Regulus who took a fall for Sirius. The one who still believes Regulus hates him for being the black sheep of their family. How ironic.
Regulus knows he can’t escape anymore. He’s too far gone to pray for his salvation. He knows he has to belong here, even if it hurts, even if it’s the last thing he wants for himself. He has to take Sirius’ place and be the heir. He’s been playing his role so believable that no one would ever question his dedication and commitment to this family for a second, and he knows exactly what he needs to do to make sure Sirius’ fate is different from his.
He sighs, putting the book away and stretching his legs. It’s getting late, and he promised to meet Remus, so he gets up and heads straight to the dungeons, hoping to wash this day away before his roommates get back from dinner.
Talking to Remus is easy. He never asks any personal questions and always knows when to shut up. But clearly not today.
‘Reg, I know it’s none of my business, but you haven’t eaten much lately,’ Remus says quietly.
Regulus flinches as if he has been hit.
‘If you know it’s not your business, then why the fuck did you decide to bring it up?’ Regulus wanted to relax on this Friday night, and now his plans are ruined. Who does Remus think he is, coming to his room and clearly picking a fight?
Regulus knows his eating habits are fucked up, he knows his brain is fucked up, he knows his communication skills are fucked up. He also knows that he doesn’t want to talk about it with anyone. He doesn’t want to listen to what they would say. They wouldn’t tell him anything he doesn’t already know. And what’s the point in opening up, if your weaknesses can later be used against you?
Maybe Regulus is being unfair. He knows Remus’ secret, and he trusts him better than he trusts himself sometimes. He is sure Remus would never do anything to hurt him. But Regulus can’t talk to him about his own problems. He doesn’t think he deserves any help or understanding, especially when his best friend is suffering much more. Regulus has to deal with his shit on his own. Should he be surprised that everything is falling apart? Maybe not.
Remus sighs. ‘I know you don’t like to talk about personal stuff, and I promise I will never bring it up again unless you want to talk about it yourself, but it hurts to see you in this state. You look like you haven’t slept in forever, you’re a walking corpse at this point, and I hate seeing you like this. You’re my best friend, but you look like a stranger.’
Regulus spits, ‘Well, don’t look at me, then, if my appearance disgusts you so much.’ His defensive mechanisms totally suck.
‘Reg, you know it’s not what I meant. Stop being a little shit, I’m just trying to help,’ Remus says, moving closer to Regulus, trying to show he doesn’t mean harm. Regulus immediately moves back from him.
‘I didn’t ask for your help, Lupin. Shut the fuck up or leave. I’m not having this conversation with you.’
‘Okay.’
Regulus expects Remus to stay. He expects him to apologise for starting this conversation. Regulus isn’t in the wrong here, is he? Remus should’ve known better than bringing up the topic Regulus hates even more than the topic of his family.
Instead Remus stands up and heads towards the door.
‘See you, Reg.’
Regulus doesn’t say anything and doesn’t turn his head to the door until Remus leaves. When he does, Regulus casts a silencing charm and screams.
September 7, 1975
Sirius
On Sunday morning Sirius is up early. Not by choice. He thought it was an unspeakable rule that no one gets up on weekends earlier than noon, but James is built differently.
‘Morning, Pads. Fancy a morning fly?’ James whispers, trying not to wake up Peter. Apparently Peter deserves sleep more than Sirius.
Sirius sighs and mumbles, ‘Fuck off, Prongs. Only you would wake up at 6am on Sunday for practice. I’m out.’
‘Where’s your enthusiasm? You were the one who told me last semester you would do whatever it takes to beat Slytherin this year,’ James smirks, patting Sirius on the head.
‘I don’t care, Prongs. The version of me which prioritised Quidditch above all is dead now. The brand new me puts sleep first, and I suggest you do the same.’
‘Whatever. See you later,’ James says, leaving quietly in his Quidditch form, a broom in his hands.
Sirius’ attempts to fall back to sleep are vain, and he decides to start working on his Defence Against the Dark Arts essay. He thinks it’s unfair to give such enormous amounts of homework after just one week of school, and he would rather discuss their new prank with Peter.
James, on the contrary, has already finished his essay. He has many more responsibilities now that he’s the captain of their Quidditch team, and does his best to complete homework as soon as possible to clear his schedule for extra practice.
Sometimes Sirius wishes he were more like James: more patient, more determined, more focused. Everyone loves James, and those who claim they don’t, are either liars, or Slytherins (Sirius doesn’t have any prejudice against them, or so he says). He has the brightest personality, he knows how to support people, he is very good with words, he never loses his temper. Sirius thinks he’s the complete opposite.
Sirius’ attention span is that of a 3-year-old. Give him an opportunity to distract himself and he will gladly take it. He has no idea what to say when someone is upset, unable to read people’s needs and emotions. He explodes with rage after any minor inconvenience, and his words shoot to kill when he’s mad. He’s nothing like James, and he wishes his brain were wired in a different way – the way which would finally let him be a trustworthy friend, a supportive classmate, and a loving brother.
Sirius regrets a lot of things, but he regrets nothing as much as he regrets losing Regulus. He’s not dead, but sometimes Sirius feels like he is. He remembers how close they were as little kids, how much adoration they both had for each other, how they promised it was them against the world, how there was nothing that could break their brotherly bond. How naïve it was of Sirius to believe they would last forever.
Sirius knows he would do anything to ensure Regulus’ safety, and he knows in order to do so he has to sacrifice something. There is nothing in this world for free. It doesn’t matter to him that Sirius is no longer the one to know about his little brother’s worries, he is not the one Regulus comes to when he’s scared or has a nightmare. He loves him the same way he did when he first saw him, the same feeling of excitement and happiness rushing through his veins as when he held Regulus for the first time.
Sirius spends so much time trying to understand when exactly everything went wrong, but it seems like it wasn’t just one thing that ruined them. Sirius can’t help but put blame on himself for the distance between him and Regulus, even though he’s well aware he has tried everything to get him back. Maybe he just didn’t try hard enough.
Sirius has almost finished the first paragraph when Peter starts snoring. ‘Wonderful,’ Sirius thinks, unable to focus on his essay at all, now that the room is full of noise. He casts a silencing charm over Peter’s bed. ‘Well, at least one of us can have a good sleep today.’
Sirius lays the parchment on the table and, stretching his arms, heads to the common room.
‘Morning, Sirius,’ Mary says, lying lazily on the sofa.
‘Morning, Macdonald. Up early?’ Sirius sits next to her.
‘Yeah, couldn’t sleep. Tried to finish my Astronomy homework, but my brain can’t function when I’m hungover. What about you? I didn’t expect you to be up till lunch.’
Sirius clicks his tongue. ‘James left for practice earlier, and Peter snorts loudly, so I couldn’t fall back to sleep. I swear the sound is worse than that of screaming Mandragoras, even the silencing charm doesn’t help.’
Mary laughs and says, ‘I believe you. You boys are gross.’
‘That’s why you love us, Macdonald.’
‘Don’t think that highly of yourself, Black.’
Mary closes her eyes and starts drifting off, her dark skin glowing, as rays of sunshine illuminate her face, making her squint her eyes, adjusting to the light. Sirius shamelessly stares at her. He’s wondering what it would be like to kiss her, but the thought of it immediately grosses him out. He’s almost sure it’s because she’s his friend, and kissing his friend would be weird.
Sirius puts a blanket over Mary and gets back to his room. Peter is still asleep and snoring, so Sirius decides to go to the library to find a book on Inferi for his essay.
He doesn’t put on his robes like he would usually do, as Sunday is one of the two days a week when he can wear his muggle clothes. He had to hide them away while at Grimmauld Place, because if Walburga or Orion found out he wore jeans or a T-shirt with Bowie, he would be punished without another word.
The true heir is only allowed to wear perfectly ironed suits, must never put his hands into pockets, and shall keep his posture straight. Sirius doesn’t understand how any of that can help him carry out the responsibilities put on him by his beloved maman and papa, but he does as they wish while at Grimmauld Place. At Hogwarts, however, he gives approximately zero fucks about his robes, his pockets, or his posture.
Putting on his leather jacket and taking the parchment, Sirius leaves at once, hoping to get to the library before it is crowded with other nerds. It’s hard to believe many people would willingly read history and potion books on a Sunday morning, but some Hogwarts students never cease to amaze him.
Sirius walks down the aisle, looking for the book which could possibly contain the information he needs, when he spots someone sitting in an armchair in the corner of the reading hall. Sirius stands on his toes and tries to catch a glance of the person, when they, as if feeling someone’s gaze on them, look him straight in the eyes.
Remus Lupin.
Sirius’ relationship with Remus Lupin can be defined in one short sentence: it was hatred from the first sight. Actually, it was much more complicated, but Sirius would never admit he felt butterflies in his stomach when he saw Remus for the first time in the Great Hall. But after an 11-year-boy, looking angrily at Sirius, said ‘You better stop staring at me, or I’ll curse you,’ he realised they could never be friends. Sirius was relieved after Remus was sorted into Slytherin. That’s where he belonged, Sirius had thought.
Was Remus Lupin a bad person? He definitely wasn’t. Only when marauders found out he was a werewolf did Sirius realise the reason behind Remus’ schemes. His rudeness, impoliteness, and clear lack of manners were nothing more but a defensive mechanism, a mask he had to wear to ensure his own safety. He never hurt anyone unless they hurt him first, and he never let anyone in. Except Regulus.
Sirius would be lying if he said he didn’t envy his brother. What did Regulus have that Sirius didn’t? He is definitely not the one helping Remus during full moons. He must be unaware about his condition at all, because Sirius sees no reason as for why Remus would reveal his secret to the younger boy. Sirius is sure that if he could go back in time, he would have befriended Remus when they were younger, but it seems like Remus would strongly disagree with him on the matter. His loss, actually.
‘Black, you better stop staring at me, or I will curse you,’ Remus says coldly, looking down at his book, clearly unimpressed by Sirius’ attempts to do…whatever he was doing.
‘Bastard,’ Sirius thinks, returning his attention back to the search of the books on dark creatures.
‘What did you just say?’ he hears. Sirius’ heart drops for a second, realising that he was thinking out loud. Again.
‘I said "bastard". Do you want me to repeat it?’ Sirius hopes he sounded as calm as he wanted to. In reality, however, he thought he would die right there on the spot, or maybe the roof would fly off and he would get blown out into space, saving him from being in close proximity with Remus Lupin.
Remus puts his book away, straightens his sweater and starts slowly approaching Sirius, who is leaning on the nearest bookshelf.
‘I dare you to.’
‘Bastard.’
Remus smirks. ‘Very bold of you, Black. Not very nice, though. Didn’t your parents teach you manners, hm?’
They did, but fuck manners. Sirius wasn’t the first one to insult.
‘You are going to talk to me about manners? Lupin, you’re threatening to curse people for looking your way.’
‘Not people, just you. No offence, but your presence here is irritating.’
With that, Remus goes past Sirius, not looking at him once, as if there was an empty space at the spot where Sirius was standing. Sirius exhales with relief, but he is no longer in the mood to read or write anything. Why is every interaction with Remus so draining for him?