Sirius's Escape
Regulus awoke on Christmas morning to Kreacher perched at the foot of his bed, staring at him creepily.
He jumped up, shoving the house elf to the floor with a yelp. Kreacher popped back up, not even spilling the tray of hot tea and cookies he was balancing with one hand.
“Kreacher?” Regulus said blearily, rubbing his eyes as staring at the house elf with surprise. It was early morning, sunlight filtering weakly through the dusty windows and illuminating Kreacher’s large, bloodshot eyes and wrinkled skin. Regulus fought back a wave of revulsion.
“Yes Master Regulus. I have brought you some Christmas tea, and biscuits.”
Regulus blinked, sleep making his brain fuzzy and slow. Was it Christmas already?
Regulus had mostly forgotten about the Christmas season, faintly aware of the holiday but not expecting any change or celebration in his daily life. The Black family never celebrated holidays, so although Regulus had grown up hearing tales of candy canes and presents, he had always been left wondering what it would be like. This year though…
“Are these from my Mother, Kreacher?” Regulus asked.
“Yes, Master Regulus. Mistress Black asked me to bring you an especially delicious Christmas breakfast. She says you have a big day ahead of you, Master Regulus.”
“Bloody hell.” muttered Regulus, taking the tea from Kreacher with thanks and wolfing down several biscuits. “I wonder what she wants.”
“Should I ask her, Master Regulus?” Kreacher asked.
“No! No, no.” Regulus said quickly. “Just tell her thank you for the tea.”
“Of course.” Kreacher said with a little bow, adjusting his fluffy white loincloth before disappearing with a crack.
Regulus took a few minutes to drink the tea in his bed, savoring the peaceful silence of his room and the gentle gray of the December sky outside. Downstairs, he could hear his mother walking around--the sharp click of her heels was unmistakable--and knew he was expected down soon. Sirius was still asleep, he reckoned. He wondered if Kreacher had brought his brother some biscuits and tea too. Sirius would probably throw them out, Regulus thought amusedly. He would think they were poisoned. Knowing his mother, they might have been.
Sighing, Regulus swung his legs out of bed and donned a pair of black robes with the Black family crest embroidered on the breast. His skin erupted in goosebumps from the draft that seemed to constantly plague the house. Standing in front of his full length, polished mirror, Regulus methodically brushed out his dark curls and fixed them into place, using a fine tooth ivory comb to smooth out any stray hairs. He checked that his robes were clean and ironed, although he would have been very shocked to find a wrinkle in them, and slipped into a pair of fine leather boots waiting freshly shined by his door. Taking a deep breath, he glanced at the mirror one final time, adjusting his impeccable appearance until he could find anything his mother could possibly complain about.
“Ok.” he breathed, downing the rest of his tea and slipping out the door before Kreacher could come back.
Sirius’s room was completely silent when Regulus passed it on his way downstairs. He paused, listening for a faint rustling that would indicate that his brother was awake.
“Sirius?” he called quietly, knocking gently on the dark wooden door.
There was no response. Regulus noted that there was no light shining from beneath his door.
“Sirius!” Regulus said again, banging harder. “Come down for breakfast, or Mother will have your skin.”
Yet the room remained as eerily silent as ever. Regulus took a step back, the annoyance fleeing from his mind and being replaced with worry.
“Answer the door, Sirius.” he said again, bending down to look through the small keyhole carved into the wood. He was met with darkness; Sirius must have stuffed the hole with something to keep his mother-or him- from doing this exact thing.
Faintly, Regulus could hear the clatter of pans as Kreacher made breakfast, and the sharp, high pitched tone as she seemed to be lecturing someone, likely his father. She sounded impatient, or more so than she always does, and Regulus felt a jolt of anxiety at the thought of her reaction if his older brother was late to breakfast.
“Come on, Sirius,” he repeated uselessly. “We have to go downstairs for breakfast, we’ll be late. Please just come down.”
The door did not move, but loomed impenetrably before him.
“Okay, Sirius.” Regulus said, glancing nervously over his shoulder as if his mother would come thundering up the steps. “I'm not risking my hide for you. I'm going downstairs, if you know what's best for you you’ll come with me.”
He hadn't expected an answer and didn't get one, yet as the minutes ticked by Regulus found himself unable to leave his brother's doorstep. He should go downstairs, keep out of trouble while he could, but something inside him wanted to keep banging on that door, pleading for Sirius to come out. Regulus could help him, if only he would just play along some of the god-damned time.
“Fine.” Regulus sighed to himself. He lifted his wand. But, instead of casting a spell, he stuck the narrow wooden tip into the keyhole, twisting it expertly until he heard a tell-tale click. Magic wasn't allowed outside Hogwarts, but Regulus had learned over the years, especially when he was locked in his room for hours on end, that muggle magic tricks sometimes worked just as well. The door opened gently with a creak, and Regulus slipped inside.
“Go away, Reg.” Sirius said the moment he walked into the room. Regulus didn't know what to say. His brother was suspended halfway out the window, his trunk fully packed and on the floor beside him. His owl hooted hopefully, and Sirius shushed it immediately, looking fugitive and rather stupid in his awkward position.
“Bloody hell Sirius, what are you doing?” Regulus asked, bewildered.
“What do you think?” his brother snapped, blowing a lock of dark hair out of his eyes. He moved another inch out of the window, now balancing precariously on a small, tiled ledge.
“Well,” said Regulus. “It looks like you’re trying to run away. But even you, Sirius, wouldn't be as stupid as that.”
Sirius grinned apologetically.
“It seems, my dear brother, that I am.”
“Where are you even going to go?” Regulus asked, too bemused to be offended by his sarcastic tone. Sirius’s face became guarded.
“I don't know,” he said shortly. Regulus detected his lie.
“James’s house?”
Sirius said nothing, but the expression on his face told Regulus all he needed to know. Regulus almost winced at the pain that squeezed his heart for a moment.
“Don't go.” he said automatically. Sirius looked angry.
“Why?” his brother asked, gray eyes shining with fury and something Regulus couldn't name. “So I can spend another week of hell here? So you can do nothing as I get tortured again and again? I'm sorry, Regulus.” The worst part was that Regulus thought that he meant it. “I really am. But I can't stay here any longer.”
Regulus was reminded painfully of the conversation he overheard with James. He bit back the words he wanted to say, taking a deep breath and looking at his brother calmly.
“Don't go.” he said again. “You’ll never make it. Mother will find you before you make it down the street.”
“no--I have a way. I'll get out--”
“No you won't.” Regulus said coldly. Sirius looked taken aback. “I promise you, she will find you, and think about what will happen then. Think, Sirius. You can run away, but now is not the time to do it.”
Sirius said nothing, but when he looked at Regulus, there was such grief in his eyes that Regulus knew his brother had realized he was right. Good. Regulus thought. Sirius could hate him, as long as he didn't get himself killed.
“Come on” Regulus said gently after Sirius had spent a few long seconds staring forlornly out the window. “Let's go downstairs.”
His brother nodded slowly, eyes empty and expression numb. He helped Sirius lift his trunk back into its original position, hang up his owl, and put on a fresh set of robes. Regulus didn't miss the longing glance he cast at the cloudy world outside; pity for his brother passed over him. He knew the feeling of staring freedom straight in the eyes, and being unable to take it, all too well.
“I won't tell anyone about this.” Regulus said to Sirius as they walked out the door together, pausing at the foot of the stairs lined with the heads of old family house elves. Sirius didn't even respond, just looked at Regulus with silent acceptance before turning his back to him and walking down the stairs. Regulus didn't care; at least Sirius was still here.
“Sirius.” Regulus called after his brother. The other boy turned, his perfectly built, haughty face cast in an expression of misery.
“Merry Christmas.”
Sirius looked surprised, then a small smile tugged at the corners of his mouth.
“Thanks, Reg.” he said, his first words since climbing back in from his window. “You too.”