Hidden Alcoves
Angry was an understatement.
Sirius curled his knees up and dabbed away at the blood blossoming from the surface with a pair of frilled socks that he didn’t particularly care for. They were a gift from an estranged cousin that was probably also his aunt. With a family tree as knotted and incest filled as his, it was difficult to tell. He hissed in a breath when he brushed over a nastier bruise, the one that had taken the brunt of the fall. He avoided thinking about how he ended up here, instead focusing on what James would say if he saw him right now.
“Mate, that’s nothing. Remember when that bludger broke your broom and sent you spinning to the ground? Now that’s a problem. You almost didn’t have a broom for the championship!”
Sirius would laugh and they’d walk it off and he’d forget all about the jagged cuts in uneven lines up and down his knees and calves. With James it was easy to forget about the scars.
But James wasn’t here, and he wouldn’t be for a long time.
You’d think after all this time lacero wouldn’t hurt as badly anymore, but he was still shocked every time he felt the spell rip his skin apart. It’s not that he didn’t know it was coming. He knew better than to expect that his parents would accept him home with open arms, especially after the mistake he’d made today. He still couldn’t believe that he had forgotten to put a disillusionment charm over his new tattoo, which was still startlingly noticeable, the ink fresh and dark.
Dorcas had done it, as it was difficult to tattoo something on your own collarbone. He had to beg Regulus, bribe Barty, convince Evan, and finally pinkie promise Pandora he wouldn’t use it against them before Dorcas finally agreed to do the tattoo. His brother’s friend group could be frustratingly annoying sometimes. Except for Pandora. Sirius liked her, she was good for Reg. Stubborn, yes, but goodhearted nonetheless. Who knew why the bubbly Ravenclaw clung to the rather moody group.
Sirius was quite a fan of tattoos and planned to give himself more at some point, as his steady hand that had been artfully trained for polite signatures and threatening letters was peculiarly good at tattooing little doodles down his arms and stomach. The other Marauders hadn’t said it specifically, but he knew they loved them too. James was essentially Sirius’s canvas, Marlene too. They loved letting him practice on them and doodle whatever he wished. James had one behind his ear in Hindi that Sirius had done for him, partially hidden by his hair. मेरे सितारों के लिए was what he had asked for. James had refused to tell him what it meant, which had irked Sirius to an alarming degree, but it wasn’t his place to ask. Tattoos were interesting that way, the way that a tiny drawing can hold so much meaning for a person. Remus wasn’t a tattoo person, though Sirius could tell he liked them. The ink just irritated his scars and messed with the healing process, so Sirius had taken a liking to lightly tracing stars over each and every scar on Remus’s long body. Ballpoint pen was better for his skin, apparently. Peter had only asked for one, just a little one near his ankle-I solemnly swear that I am up to no good. They had all marveled at the phrase, jealous that they hadn’t thought of it first.
His mistake wasn’t the tattoo. He loved the tattoo more than anything, except for maybe the person he had gotten it for. When he had first proposed the idea to Remus he had grimaced and shook his head, not wanting Sirius to make a decision so permanent for him, but the excitement and disbelief in his eyes had been all the confirmation that Sirius needed. His mouth had said, “Don’t do this for me, Sirius.” but his eyes had said, “He wants to do something for me? Something this important?”
His heart gave a little flutter at the idea of Remus’s eyes, but he quickly pushed him out of his brain. His mother could be listening in on his thoughts at this very moment, and Sirius would do anything he could to make sure Remus wasn’t used as a weapon against him. Grimmauld Place was an alternate world that the Marauders did not belong to, especially not his Moony.
Once the socks had soaked up most of the blood, he reached for his trunk that Kreacher had brought up just hours before - or was it mere minutes? Who knew, the torturing had felt like it had aged Sirius ten years, but then again, the drab of Grimmauld Place tended to do that to anyone who stepped in it. It dug into your deepest loves and desires before crumbling them and the hope to ever see them again to pieces. He grabbed his trunk - which he’d burned the Black family crest off of back in second year - and flung it open. He had packed haphazardly before he left, his mind still in denial about coming back to his childhood home. It happened every year, and his friends were ready for it, so they had packed most of his things for him, including a little gift to help him get through the summer from each of them.
James had given him a Gryffindor flag to add to his collection that Sirius was going to pin to the wall once he could stop fucking bleeding. Remus and Peter had teamed up with their gift for him. Remus had given him an ointment that Sirius himself had applied to Moony’s fresh cuts after the full moon that helped them fade and took the sting out. Sirius remembered slathering a glob of it on a particularly ugly one across Remus’s back after the February moon, and he had watched Remus’s whole disposition relax once he had applied it. He had let out a sigh of relief, and now as Sirius rubbed it over the cuts on his knees and calves he could see why. It was like a cold breeze on a hot summer day, the perfect kind of relief. It didn’t take the sting out entirely, after all, these were magical wounds, but he could already see the cuts start to close up in front of his eyes. The tape had been Peter’s idea. It was essentially muggle medical tape, but they had charmed it to carry the ointment’s relief constantly, and so when he wrapped it around his lower legs the relief stuck.
When he had finally finished stitching himself back together, he leaned back against his bed, a pocket of dust flying up when his back made contact with the old sheets. His legs felt a lot better now, encouraging him to grab the Gryffindor flag out of his trunk and pull over an expensive chair from the corner of the room. He climbed up on the chair and pinned the flag to the wall, casting a glance behind him carefully, checking that the door was shut and secure. He pulled out his wand and quietly cast a permanent sticking charm to the flag, ensuring that Walburga couldn’t take it down. He wasn’t allowed to do magic outside of school, but laws often went unnoticed in the Noble House of Black, government officials too terrified of his family’s horrific reputation to care much about a measly little charm. He smiled quietly at the minor victory over his mother, though he knew he would only get more scars from it. Any tiny rebellion was a win in his book.
He dumped the rest of the contents of his trunk onto his bed, he would deal with it later. He filtered through the robes and sweaters he had stolen from Moony until he found what he was looking for; a photo of all of his friends. He and Remus were in the center, and Sirius was planting a fat kiss on his collarbone, teeth scraping against the skin, that had been visible for a few days afterwards. Remus’s cheeks lit up a scarlet color every time the photo version of him did it.
James had an arm slung around both Regulus and Lily on each side. He had been acting weird around Regulus recently, but Sirius wasn’t worried about it. Sirius and Regulus were slowly starting to mend their torn apart relationship, and James was extraordinarily good at making someone feel like they could be a family.
Regulus’s friends were casting James a wary glance, Barty and Evan especially. Dorcas didn’t look like she gave a shit, especially with Marlene’s arms wrapped around her waist. She was glowing. Pandora was the only one who was looking at James and Reg with a somewhat knowing look, and all Sirius wanted was to know what that look meant. Merlin, that girl was a mystery unto herself, but Regulus seemed to understand her plenty well. Sirius shook his head; he would go mad before he could figure out all of the separate intricacies of Pandora Lovegood.
Mary had her arms looped around both Lily and Marlene’s waists, smiling her dazzling Mary smile. Her and Sirius had gone out in fourth year before deciding they were better off as friends, and they both seemed happier now that snogging was out of their agenda.
Peter was sitting on the floor in front of all of them, smiling softly and looking down sheepishly. Peter was quiet, but Sirius appreciated him, and especially the charmed tape. It was going to be a lifesaver.
Even though Regulus’s friends didn’t particularly like his friends, they liked Reg, and Reg (sometimes) tolerated James and Sirius. The only real bridge between the two groups was Regulus and Remus’s friendship, plus Dorcas and Marlene’s relationship. Lily, Reg, and Remus had created a book club a few months ago, and now they were all talking on a daily basis. He loved his friends so much, every single one of them.
Which was why he had to hide this photo. If it were found by his mother it meant that suddenly there were ten more people that Orion and Walburga could use against both him and Regulus, making the existence of the picture in the first place dangerous. He loved that he had a huge family away from this awful place, but really only Regulus’s friend group was safe here, and that was on a good day. Who knew what deals and risky trades had occurred during the course of the few months he had been at school with their families.
He knew that if he kept this photo somewhere he could constantly be looking at it, it would make him weak. Sirius was good at separating Grimmauld Place and Hogwarts. He was a different person in each of them. Regulus wasn’t as good. He was cold and guarded everywhere, with everyone. If Reg was the one with the photo, Sirius was sure he’d be fine. But Regulus was not. So Sirius had to hide it. He couldn’t risk bringing Padfoot to the home of Sirius Orion Black, heir to the Noble House of Black.
He grabbed his trunk and stabilized it on the chair, before reaching up toward the ebony ceiling his cousin Andromeda had painted when he was just a toddler. She always loved painting. Both her and Sirius had a mutual respect for art and the people who created it, so they had bonded a lot during his younger days. Andromeda had fallen in love with a muggle. That was her mistake. She had been disinherited and burned off the family tree, which was honestly a better way to turn out then where he was headed. As the Black heir, it was a lot harder for Sirius to escape. That didn’t mean he didn’t dream about it though.
There was a hidden compartment that Andromeda had charmed into the ceiling, located right above the Sirius star. A place only for Sirius, no other constellations belong in that exact spot. The universe would fall into chaos, you see? He stuffed the photo in the ceiling panel, before leaping off of the trunk again and searching for the second photo. He let a big smile encompass his face when he found it simply to let it out, before shoving it away. Smiles were dangerous. Smiles equal questions. Questions equal screaming from Sirius and calm demands from his mother. His mother’s calm demands equal more scars. Or even worse. Sirius didn’t know how long his tape and ointment would last at this rate.
The one he had already stashed in the ceiling moved, like all wizard photos did. However, the one he was gripping in his hand did not move. It was one of those muggle photo booth pictures, he and Remus had found it in a muggle town when he had stayed at the Potter’s last Christmas. To be fair, he didn’t have his parents permission to stay at the Potter’s, but it was still a better Christmas than what he would have gotten if he had come home. Even when they chopped off nearly all of his hair as a punishment. Regulus had to brew a potion to help grow it back once they were in school. He turned his attention back to the picture in his hand. There were four photos. In the first one Remus was smiling stoically at the camera while Sirius had an arm slung around his shoulders and had his tongue out, making a ridiculous expression. Remus was mid eyeroll in the second photo with Sirius’s lips pressed against a scar on his cheekbone, and in the third photo Remus was looking at him with playful eyes. They were snogging in the fourth and final photo. This was the chain of photos that single handedly kept his flame for life alight. His Moony. This was all for him. Without his moon and his sun to guide him, it was easy to simply give up, especially during the summer. He enjoyed the moment for as long as he could, before shoving his overflowing love for Moony deep down inside of him, and placing the photo booth pictures high up in the ceiling, hiding it where only Sirius can exist.
Three Days Later
Regulus wished he was angry.
His room was cold even though his window was open, early summer sun attempting to warm a patch of dusty flooring in his room. He had already unpacked the few things in his trunk the day he had arrived back home. He’d stashed the letters James had written for him under a floorboard.
Their goodbye had been short and sweet, like most things with James had been recently. James had pulled him into an empty compartment on the train, pressing his forehead to Regulus’s. James always ran hot, but that day he just felt particularly feverish against Regulus’s clammy skin. Regulus was terrified. Home meant hungry nights and pretending that you didn't feel anything at any moment whatsoever, or else you’d just be food for Walburga’s wrath. James seemed to be the only one who could figure out when Regulus’s heart felt like it was going to fall out of his chest, or when he couldn’t pretend to not care anymore. The times when his feelings felt so big they were going to drown him.
“Will you be okay?” James asked, his breath moving the curls off of Regulus’s forehead. He put his hands on the back of James’s neck, his fingers pressing towards his temples. He brushed over the slight raised skin of his tattoo, a Hindi word that Regulus didn’t understand. Sometimes Regulus would trace the characters absentmindedly, swirling around on his tawny skin. He could tell that Sirius had done it, as good as Sirius was at mimicking other people’s handwriting, the flare was distinctly him. Who knew where he had found a tattoo gun, but Regulus would have to thank him later. James’s little tattoos were really hot, though he wouldn’t be caught dead thinking that.
“I don’t know.” Regulus said, which shocked him because it was the truth. He had never been so upfront and honest with someone before, but James just drew it out of him. It made him feel human, because some days he wasn’t sure if he was capable of emotion.
“That’s…nerve-racking. Promise me you’ll find a way to let me know you’re okay?”
“I promise.”
James smiled against his forehead and pressed a kiss to the top of his nose. “It won’t be that long. It’s only two months, you know. And if you need to leave for any reason at all, you know where to find me. The door is always open, Reggie, you know that.”
Regulus looked up into his hazel eyes and felt his breath catch. “Thank you. Thank you. I lo…yeah.”
James smiled at his feeble attempt at confessing his love and pulled him in for a hug.
Regulus missed his strong arms around him already.
He examined the cut in the mirror. It was slight, just a nick really, the bruise from his mother’s hand was more obvious than the slight trail of blood itself. It was too close to his eye, however, forcing it to water uncontrollably. That was close enough to tears for his mother, which only meant one thing. No dinner today, no breakfast tomorrow, and he was lucky if he got lunch the day after.
He schooled his features into one of nonchalance, looking out of the open door toward his brother’s room. His idiot brother. His idiot brother that he was supposed to be fixing his relationship with. James had been the one to suggest it, the unknowing peace gap between Sirius and Regulus. Sirius didn’t know that he and Regulus were together, and Regulus had wanted to keep it that way. James had proposed the idea of informing his brother about it, which had made Regulus wary, but he eventually conceded that it would probably be the best move. Delaying the inevitable would only make the breaking moment worse. He promised he would do it eventually, but he hadn’t had a chance so far, because his brother couldn’t take five steps into their home without fucking up.
Regulus had watched Dorcas tattoo the moon phases onto Sirius’s collarbone, her artistic hands assisted by Pandora. They were both extraordinarily good at this, but Sirius kept causing her to flub slightly because of his shaky excited breaths as he spoke the entire time. Regulus often wished his brother to shut up for his own well-being, but this was one of the more annoying times. But annoying was better than traumatizing. Usually if Regulus was begging him to stop speaking it meant Sirius was on the verge of their mother’s fury, and she was just goading him to say one more word so she could pull out her wand.
Regulus and Remus had cast the incantation to make the moon phases glow depending on the phase the actual moon was currently in. Barty, Evan, and Dorcas had not yet figured out Lupin’s secret, but he was sure that Pandora had discovered it on her own. Regulus had had his suspicions that Remus was a werewolf, but as they became closer Lupin eventually revealed it to him himself. His stupid brother still thought that Regulus, Evans, and Lupin were a part of a book club, and while they did discuss the current literatures they were reading on occasion, most of the time they were sneaking out of the castle for drinks at the Hog’s Head because every person on the planet was a suck-up for Remus fucking Lupin. Regulus couldn’t blame them; Remus was extraordinarily attractive, and everyone could see it besides the boy himself. Remus had simply smiled innocently and batted his disgustingly long eyelashes at the owner and suddenly they were five fire whiskeys down and Lupin was confessing to Regulus that he was a werewolf. Then he had panicked, and he combined with the incredible force that was Lily Evans had fully convinced Regulus to make an unbreakable vow that he would never tell anyone Remus’s secret. The thing is, Regulus believed it when he swore on his and Remus’s life. This boy meant the world to his brother, and he would never do anything to hurt Sirius that deeply. Besides, he liked Lupin. He was certainly the sanest out of his brother’s crazy group of friends, and while he loved James they had really come together in an “opposites attract” situation. He and Remus were study partners now, and he could practically feel Sirius’s jealousy. Now he knew how it felt to have your boyfriend be best friends with your brother.
It was evident that Sirius had gotten the tattoo both to remind him of the moon phase so he could keep an eye on how Lupin was feeling and to sort of pay homage to him. It was a dedicated tattoo alright, and a beautiful one. Dorcas’s style was elegant and intricate, and it felt more personal that it had been done by someone so close to Regulus. He almost felt as though he had assisted in the decision that way. Sirius had been showing it off at any chance he could get, and Regulus had consistently caught Remus’s eyes lingering on Sirius’s chest longer now that it was decorated with his proclamation of love for him. The two idiots were going to kill him with their sappiness. James had asked Regulus that night if he should get a tattoo of Regulus’s star and Regulus had laughed, assuming he was joking. However, when James’s eyes stayed earnest, Regulus realized he was genuinely asking for his opinion, and he had told him that it was tacky. Besides, what if they broke up one day? He’d have a permanent reminder of Regulus, and he didn’t think he could live with himself if he was a permanent reminder of how he’d hurt the sun. Two nights later James had his tattoo at the base of his neck. That he refused to tell Reg the meaning of.
Sirius’s mistake wasn’t getting the tattoo in the first place, it was being too careless with it. They had stepped into the house after Kreacher apparated them back from the train station. Regulus had a weak stomach; he got seasick so easily. Apparating made him feel even worse than usual, so he had been swaying and slightly green as they walked into the foyer. Their parents had been waiting for them, and while Regulus had been smart and wore tailored dress robes so his parents had no reason to berate him, Sirius was in baggy ripped jeans and an oversized Gryffindor sweater that was definitely Remus’s, judging by the coffee stain on the sleeve. Remus spilled everything, and he was always sipping hot drinks to ease his aches. His hands seemed to be constantly shaky. Sirius’s hair was tied up into a bun and his new ear piercing was on blatant display for everyone to see, a tiny sun.
But Walburga and Orion could live with that. Sirius had been flaunting his Gryffindor pride since the first year, and it had become evident that punishing him for it had no purpose anymore. However, because the sweater was big on him, they could see the tattoo from the dip in the neckline, revealing the top of a fading crescent moon. Walburga had found the weakness, and rolled with it.
“What is that, Sirius?”
Sirius had rolled his eyes. “A sweater. Some people don’t enjoy being cold all the time, you know, considering the fact you keep this house below freezing.”
Stop it, Sirius. You have no idea what’s coming. Regulus had just kept his eyes trained on the space behind his mother’s head.
“I know what a sweater is, Sirius. What is underneath your sweater? That marking.”
The thing was, Sirius had other tattoos that he had given himself visible. His friends’ names were tattooed on his wrist, and he had a paw print on top of his left hand. The rest were hidden beneath the baggy clothes. However, Walburga must’ve been using legilimency because she had figured out that this one meant more.
She let out a cold chuckle. “Don’t tell me you’ve fallen for Lyall Lupin’s creature, now, have you? That disgusting mauled thing? It shouldn’t even be at Hogwarts, how disgraceful to Dumbledore. There was a time when that man had my respect, but he’s clearly thrown all of his credibility away by allowing that thing to walk the grounds.”
Every time Walburga referred to Remus as a creature or an object, Sirius twitched, his fists curling into balls.
Stop, Sirius. Don’t get angry, she can get in your head that way.
“Aha, so you have. How stupid. You think you love him. Love. Who could love you? No one, you are worthless. A worthless faggot. I should torture you for that in itself, but you’re lucky I’m feeling gracious today. This is simply too entertaining, wait until your cousins hear about this. Look at you, assuming anyone could ever reciprocate feelings for you. You have no impact on life whatsoever, and yet you still manage to be an annoyance. You float by like pollen in the breeze, the only impact you have is the damage you do for others. No one could love you, let alone a creature with barely a brain to begin with-”
“Shut up! You’re a bigoted bitch, and you know nothing about him or me! He's a thousand times the human you'll ever be! I’d be surprised if you didn’t turn out to be a serpent with your wrinkly skin and greasy hair! Fucking banshees have been asking me for your skin care, you fucking hag!”
There it is…
Regulus had shut his eyes while she did it, he always did. He could feel Sirius’s anger across from him when he didn’t do anything, but Regulus found his legs locked in place, his jaw tightly wired. He didn’t spare Sirius a glance, just focused on that marble wall in front of him as Sirius fell to the ground, his legs failing him due to the blood loss.
Sirius’s screams had dissipated after a while, and Regulus had blinked away the pressure behind his eyes. Lock it away. Lock it away. You don’t feel it. None of that exists here.
That was three days ago.
Sirius had picked two more fights in the span of those.
The first had been a day later, when they had spotted the new Gryffindor flag he had pinned up to his wall, along with a photo of a woman wearing very few clothes, which Regulus found ironic considering the fact that Remus had asked Regulus if Sirius would like them for a Christmas gift. Walburga had slapped him when she saw it, but that was okay with Sirius. He wasn’t very upset about it.
The day after, however, they had caught him trying to sneak out the window the day of a gala for Narcissa’s birthday. He had almost made it out, using the window in the second-floor kitchen as opposed to his bedroom one, because it was slightly stealthier than the previous one. Orion had hauled him back in by the collar on his shirt and beat him. Sirius was bruised and bleeding, and then his mother had cursed him with a hex that Regulus didn’t know but was determined to study so he could recognize it when it happened again, because suddenly a bunch of cuts opened on Sirius’s skin, and he was bleeding out on the kitchen floor. Walburga let him writhe there for thirty seconds before lifting the hex so he wouldn’t die. When she raised her arm again to cast another spell something overcame Regulus, and he hurled his champagne glass at his mother’s feet. She had gasped in surprise before turning to him with fury in her eyes.
“Stop! Stop it! Stop hurting him! He’s pathetic anyway, just lock him in his room. He doesn’t deserve any more of your time and effort! It’s a waste of a perfectly good spell!” He screeched until his voice was raw from screaming.
Sirius had looked up at him, a mix of surprise, confusion, and relief on his face. There you go, Sirius. You’ve been begging me to say something, I did. This is the biggest step I could take. I’m sorry.
Walburga had delivered a sharp crack to his face. Orion had taken Sirius upstairs and bolted his door shut. Meanwhile, Walburga had taken it upon herself to properly school Regulus in the Unforgivables, specifically the Imperius curse.
His body wasn’t his own, and he watched in horror as she forced him to pick up a glass shard of the champagne flute he had smashed in his bare hand, slicing his palm open. Then, she had forced him to raise it to his cheek, and slice.
Regulus examined his cut in the mirror now, Narcissa’s party long ended. The thing was, there was no proof to ruin his family’s reputation. Usually, the Blacks try to make the scars they give capable of being hidden under clothing, but the cut on his cheek was thin enough that it wouldn’t leave a scar once it healed. It did sting though.
Regulus was hungry and missed his brother desperately, staring at Sirius’s door across the hall.
That’s when the idea formed.
“No, no, Regulus, that’s a terrible idea.”
But is it? Maybe…just maybe…
He got to his feet and charged to Sirius’s room.