Chapter Text
For as long as he’s lived, all Regulus Black has known is his older brother, Sirius.
And then he grows up within the Noble and Ancient House of Black, and he soon knows pain, too.
Rather, Regulus Black thinks he knows pain. He thought that he understood the intricacy of it, the swirling depths of terror. He thought he knew what it was to suffer, thought he had memorised the movement of his body as it wracked with sob after sob, spasming in spontaneous intervals. The shock lingered with the pain. Regulus thought he knew it all. The Cruciatus curse is a familiar caress down his spine, kissing every nerve until it fries within his body, locking his limbs tightly in place.
He knows nothing.
He realises that now, as he watches Sirius shove things into a backpack. It’s charmed so that he can continue to put jumper after jumper in there, some socks that Regulus knows have holes in them because Sirius refused to get rid of them despite Walburga’s berating. They are not fit for a son of the Noble and Ancient House of Black, Sirius, she would say. Get rid of them immediately. Of course Sirius never did. He would rather let their mother Incendio them from his feet than willingly give them up. No, not when this pair of socks had been given to him by James Potter.
The name sends a thrill through Regulus, his cheeks heating up at the mere thought of the older boy. At thirteen, Regulus is no stranger to hormones. His best friend is the most insufferable person he knows, always talking his ear off about this girl and that boy, a Hufflepuff with a mouth on him and a Ravenclaw girl who really knows how to use her tongue. If Regulus didn’t love Barty so much he definitely wouldn’t put up with it. Especially when the boy forgets to put a silencing charm up at night, his sensuous moans filling the air of their dorm. However, Regulus thinks that it’s more for Evan’s benefit than his own, not that Evan ever mentions Barty’s nightly activities, much to the latter’s disappointment. Regulus is much more discreet with what he does behind his bed curtains at night, but the root of his affections is the worst kept secret between the three friends.
The thought brings Regulus out of his head and into his current surroundings: Sirius’ bedroom. There are various posters plastered on the walls and trinkets scattered on every available piece of surface. Even stacked magazines, most of which appear to be Quidditch related as far as Regulus can see, have small boxes and jewellery placed atop them. Regulus looks around at the room that Sirius tried to make into a home, a safe haven, and wonders if his brother knew that no matter how hard he tried it wouldn’t work. Grimmauld Place is a mausoleum, a prison of death and darkness that one never escapes from.
Until tonight.
Regulus feels his breath start to come in quicker and he tries with everything in himself to calm down, but he’s only thirteen and his big brother is packing all his most prized possessions into a rucksack. Regulus wonders whether he can fit into the bag, whether the charms would hold out enough for his body. I am a Seeker , he thinks, my build is slender enough that it’s worth a try. Something like dread drops into the pit of his stomach like a brick, heavy and unyielding. Deep down he knows that he is not going to be able to go with Sirius. It’s almost as daunting as the thought of being left behind, but Sirius would never leave him behind. They’re brothers, they look out for each other. Regulus knows this because when Sirius is berated for wearing Muggle clothing, his denim jeans hanging loosely from his hips, the word Levis displayed on the burnished yellow label on the back, Regulus is the one who sneaks him food and water when his older brother is locked within his room. He knows it because when Regulus is shaking uncontrollably on the floor, laying in his own vomit, it’s Sirius who helps carry him to his bedroom. It’s Sirius who, along with Kreacher, cleans him of sickness and nurses him back to health.
They’re brothers.
But Sirius continues to pack his bag without so much as a glance at Regulus, who stands within the doorway of his bedroom. Every movement Sirius makes takes a toll on him, slows him down and makes him consider every move. Regulus can see it on his face, in the strain of his body. Can see the blood seeping through his grey top. Regulus has pulled the door behind him so that their parents will not see what Sirius is doing. Despite the hatred their parents seem to harbour for their children, Regulus knows that they will never allow either of them to leave. And that is exactly what Sirius is planning to do. Regulus knows this, but he still has to ask.
“What are you doing, Siri?”
Sirius is silent for a moment, but his fingers still as they wrap around a Gryffindor scarf. His hair falls over his eyes, longer than Regulus’ own but wavy, whereas Regulus’ curls around the nape of his neck. “I am leaving, Regulus. I can’t stay here any longer. If they don’t kill me they’ll turn me just like them. I won’t be like them.” Sirius mumbles the last part to himself, like he’s willing it into existence.
Regulus doesn’t understand how Sirius thinks he could be anything like their parents. Sirius is good, Regulus has always known this. Always adored his older brother for everything he is and everything he is not.
But still, his stomach is beginning to turn at the finality of his words. The new reality he is creating for Regulus. “Where will you go?”
“To James’ house.” Sirius continues to pack things into his bag. He isn’t being picky and it seems like he already knows where everything he wants is, like he has envisioned this day for a while and knows exactly what he needs to do. Regulus isn’t sure whether he is a part of Sirius’ escape plan, isn’t sure whether his brother has realised there is one thing he cannot fit into his backpack.
The sound of James’ name sends a familiar feeling through Regulus, but this time there is a sliver of something different with it, something Regulus has never felt before. It’s sharp and ugly. Sirius speaks his best friend's name with such love, such care, as he packs his belongings and turns his back on his little brother.
And maybe it’s selfish, maybe he shouldn’t say it, but Regulus finds that the words leave his mouth anyway. “Please don’t go, Sirius.” He knows that the please don’t leave me behind remains unsaid but is bouncing loudly around the room anyway. He knows that Sirius can hear the desperation within his voice, and thinks that he couldn’t keep it out if he tried. He’s only thirteen, he doesn’t know anything else other than his big brother.
Sirius does turn to him now, his eyes pained and slightly red. “Reggie…”
Regulus feels heat prick within his eyes and all but throws himself into his brother’s arms. Something Sirius has always been good at is cuddling, comforting him in his darkest moments, and even now it calms Regulus down. Sirius is warm and he smells so familiar. He smells like home, Regulus realises, and it makes the tears gather within his eyes. “Please, Sirius. Don’t leave me.”
The pain is so raw that it aches within Regulus’ throat, clawing its way up as it begs to be seen, to be heard. He swallows in an attempt to force it back down, force it away, but Regulus is only thirteen, he doesn’t know anything other than his older brother. And his older brother is leaving him.
“I have to go, Reggie,” Sirius squeezes him tighter, “I can’t stay here anymore.”
“What about me?” Regulus whispers, pulling away to stare up at him. Sirius is one year older than him and it shows in their height. For all that they look alike, Sirius is clearly much more grown than Regulus, and the latter thinks that even as he grows up, Sirius will always be taller than him. He is the brightest star in the sky, after all. There is no competing with him. It’s something that has always been hissed during family gatherings, his aunts and uncles whispering about how he would never be as bright as his older brother.
All of that changed when Sirius was sorted into Gryffindor, but Regulus will never forget the time that he was nothing more than Sirius’ shadow. Even at Hogwarts, he can still see how his family was right. Sirius is surrounded by his large friendship group, his three best friends rarely ever leave his side, and boys and girls flock to him within the corridors of the castle, begging for a minute of his time. The amount of rumours he has heard about his brother are ungodly. He tries his hardest not to listen to them, but he can’t help to compare himself. He has always felt inadequate when it comes to Sirius, despite his brother never doing anything to further this feeling. It’s all Regulus.
Regulus feels Sirius stiffen in the embrace and for a moment Regulus can see something sharp like contempt dull Sirius’ otherwise shining blue eyes. Like this they look more grey. More like Regulus’ own eyes, the colour of storm clouds rolling over the ocean, dark and gloomy.
“You’re a Slytherin, Reg. Mother and father won’t touch you. You’ll be fine.”
He can feel the way his poorly concealed disdain coats the words, smearing them like the hidden insult they are. Regulus doesn’t think his brother means it, he’s never been purposely horrible to him for as long as they’ve lived, not outside of the typical sibling antics, but this time it stings all the same. Because Sirius is on the verge of leaving him, and he is all Regulus has ever known. But that isn’t particularly true.
Sirius has always secretly hated the idea of Regulus being a Slytherin, and Regulus has known this, too. He saw it immediately in his eyes, so much like his own, as the Sorting Hat called out the house with the green and silver stripes. Sirius, for one fleeting moment, had looked at him like the snake Regulus knows he is, and Sirius had hated it. The look was gone as quickly as it had shown up, and Sirius had sent him a weak smile as Regulus had made his way to Narcissa, who was waiting for him with a comforting smile and a quick hug. Being in her sixth year, she was older than both Regulus and Sirius, and was a comfort to a small and slightly afraid Regulus. She had always been nice to him at family gatherings, sneaking him extra sweets and distracting him when one of the children was inevitably tortured for some wrongdoing. He had adored her growing up.
It’s the thought that Sirius has harboured a small resentment to the house Regulus was sorted into that forces him away from his brother’s embrace. Surely Sirius wouldn’t leave him here because of his Hogwarts house? Surely not. They’re brothers. He is all Regulus has ever known.
And yet the look in Sirius’ eyes tells him that he will, in fact, leave him here in this rotting carcass of a house. A house, never a home. Regulus is good, never good enough. Not for his family and not for his brother, who has chosen James Potter and his family over Regulus. He starts to feel a cold sensation surge throughout his body, a wind rattling within his ears as he stares at his brother, really looking into his eyes.
“You would leave me here—” he chokes on his own breath, the reality of the situation kicking in, “leave me with them?”
“They won’t hurt you, Reg. You’re the heir they wanted. You always follow their every word.” Again, it’s spoken with bitterness, the words rolling out of Sirius’ mouth like they’re trying to punch him. Regulus feels every hit.
“They have already hurt me,” he whispers, the words carrying over to Sirius as if he had shouted them. Sirius flinches. Would you look at that, Regulus thinks, he can throw punches too.
Sirius looks like he struggles to find words, as if he cannot conjure them from the depths of his mind. Regulus waits, waits like the lost puppy he becomes around his brother. Loyal and ever-loving. It makes him scoff internally, what a waste of time. Bitterness of his own swirls within him as he looks at his older brother. He is all he’s ever wanted to be and nothing he will ever achieve, Regulus has known this, but as he looks at him now he thinks that he would never do this to Sirius. Would never abandon him. The only thing that has gotten Regulus through the daily torture routine of their parents is Sirius, is the fact that they get through it together, and now Sirius is leaving him.
More silence greets him, brushes against the soft skin of Regulus’ cheek and it’s all he can do not to shiver. It feels like loneliness. “Take me with you,” he says into the blanket of silence Sirius has laid out for them and blanches as Sirius slowly shakes his head.
“It’s not that simple, Reggie.”
For what it’s worth, Regulus notes, his brother does look remorseful, but the prospect of being left alone with their parents steals what little understanding Regulus has. “How so?”
Sirius runs his hands through his hair, stress lining every inch of his body. He is practically thrumming with it. “Because James said I was welcome at his house any time, but I don’t think he’s actually asked his parents. I’ll be showing up unannounced. I don’t even know if they’ll let me in.” His voice cracks under the pressure in which he forces them out and despite himself Regulus feels the pang in his heart.
He was never much good at watching Sirius in pain. It’s one of the reasons Sirius is more scarred than he is, because sometimes Regulus’ punishments were watching Sirius being hurt whilst he couldn’t do anything to help. And sometimes, Sirius would take his place when the Cruciatus curse was being threatened. Regulus would scream at the top of his lungs when they hurt Sirius, he’d scream his throat raw until all that was left was whimpers, the skin of his throat flaring up, hot to the touch. And then, when all he could do was watch his brother writhe through tears, Orion would Imperio him to continue watching. Some days it felt never ending, especially when the cruel gleam to his mother’s eye was focused on him.
Regulus can smell the blood that drips down Sirius’ back, and knows that what he finds there will be raw and bright crimson. Orion hadn’t been lenient when he had taken the belt directly from his neatly pressed trousers and began to whip his eldest son with it. Sirius had taken it as silently as he could, tears of quiet rage falling from his eyes. Regulus had watched on in horror as barely an hour ago his father had brutalised his brother’s skin, his cropped shirt riding high up his back, a marred canvas ready for more paint strokes of red. Regulus had run forward, to do what he wasn’t sure, but he was ready to try to protect Sirius from his fate. He had been flung backwards before he could get close enough, his mother’s iron grip on the collar of his jumper. He had been swiftly backhanded, the jewelled rings on her fingers leaving a cut on his high cheekbone. Even at thirteen Regulus was precious, a beauty before his time. He was brought down beside Sirius, both Black brothers lying on the floor wincing in pain, Sirius slumped on his front and Regulus on his back, watching the scene with wide eyes.
“You want to be brave, Regulus?” His father sneered. “Then you will take his place.”
“No,” Sirius moaned in protest, stretching out as if it would entice his father to focus on him instead of Regulus, but Orion had made up his mind, Walburga smiled with vicious pleasure as he looked on at her husband and two sons.
“Oh, you want some more?” It was with that last remark that Orion continued to rain lash after lash on Sirius’ back. It wasn’t until Regulus was throwing himself at his father that the man stopped. His wild eyes turned on his youngest son, murderous intent swirling there, and he began to advance on him. Regulus tripped as he scrambled to get away, falling backwards and spraining his wrist as he caught himself awkwardly. He tensed up as he prepared for the attack, his body used to it.
Shockingly, it was his mother’s words that stopped him. “Leave them now, Orion. I think they’ve learnt their lessons.”
Watching his two sons groan in agony on the floor must have satisfied him, because Orion lowered his belt and walked away from them. Walburga followed him without a second glance, a sneer stuck permanently to her lips.
Regulus and Sirius had laid there in silence, both within their own world of pain, for what felt like forever before Kreacher had popped into the room and begun to give them potions that would slowly heal their wounds. But it wouldn’t stop scarring. Walburga had made sure of that the moment she began torturing her sons.
The memory fizzles from Regulus’ brain as a sharp bang is heard from a floor lower where they know their parents are. It is this that springs Sirius back into action, the older boy packing the last of his belongings with a newfound vigour. Tears well in Regulus' eyes once more as he realises that Sirius is leaving, and that he will not be taking Regulus with him.
“Please don’t leave me here, Siri,” he begs once more, because if there is one thing Regulus will always do, it is stay with his brother. He is his safe place, after all. Right now he feels like he might be Sirius’ hell.
Sirius makes a pained noise but Regulus can’t tell whether it is because of his words or the pain emanating from his back. He turns to Regulus now, his backpack dangling from his hand. His grip is tight like it is the only thing anchoring Sirius to the room, to this reality. Regulus knows that despite the healing potions administered by Kreacher that the pain must be unimaginable. Sirius took Merlin knows how many before Regulus stepped in.
“How about this,” Sirius whispers, walking closer to him so that their voices don’t carry. “I’ll go to the Potter’s and if they let me in I’ll ask if we can come back for you. How does that sound?”
Regulus is nodding his head frantically before the words are fully out of Sirius’ mouth and despite himself, a small smile graces Sirius’ lips. “Okay, I’ll talk to them. Effie and Monty are great so I’m sure they’ll be understanding once I tell them. And then me and James will be here to get you. Okay?”
“James will be here?” Regulus can’t help the way his eyes sparkle at the older boy’s name.
If Sirius can see the plain adoration on his face he doesn’t say anything, which is probably due to the pain he’s currently experiencing in his back, because usually he never misses an opportunity to tease Regulus about his crush on James. Maybe his secret isn’t so safe with just him, Barty and Evan. His brother always has known everything about him.
“I’m sure he would want nothing more than to be the hero in your story,” Sirius teases, the smile remaining,
Regulus sobers up but the adoration never leaves his eyes. “You’re my hero, Sirius.”
Sirius swallows tightly and the smile on his face becomes slightly strained, but the love shining within his eyes is as clear as day. “I’ll come back for you, Regulus. I need to go now.”
The eldest Black makes his way out of his bedroom, moving as swiftly as his battered body will allow. Regulus follows him, knowing that soon he won’t be in the house anymore. That for a small period of time he will be alone with his parents until Sirius can come to save him. James, too, his mind supplies and he feels the familiar flush of his body. He pushes it all aside to focus on the careful steps he and his brother take down the stairs. To floo to the Potter’s, Sirius will need to sneak into the cold hall they call a kitchen. Regulus has never known any different than the lonely, bleak corridors of Grimmauld Place, but from the warmth that the Great Hall of Hogwarts emits, he knows that homes are supposed to be just that: homes. Not ancient bricks disguised as a family house. Nothing about the foreboding building screams homely.
They make it to the bottom of the staircase and begin down the second one to the ground floor where the kitchen is. Their parents’ bedroom is on this floor and so they take extra care in being silent, knowing that the moment they hear their footsteps they will be dealt with. It is this that makes Sirius almost stumble in his step. Regulus looks at him in alarm, his curls whipping around his face as he stares back the way they came, ears craning for the sound of Orion or Walburga, but nothing is amiss. They continue to the bottom of the stairs. Once there the two boys dart quickly into the kitchen and Sirius is grabbing a handful of Floo powder.
He turns to Regulus, the younger’s face sweet even in the face of his brother leaving him. He always seemed so sweet to Sirius, like a cherub. Sirius had fallen in love with his baby brother the moment he was born, despite being so young himself. He had known that Regulus would be his partner in crime for eternity. The thought makes Sirius stop in his tracks, etching his brother’s face to memory, despite the knowledge that he will be coming back for him.
“Reggie, you need to go and lock yourself in your room. They will know the moment I leave and I don’t want you to be here. You need to pretend you have no idea where I’ve gone, okay?”
Regulus shakes his head in protest, those curls bouncing once more. Sirius drops his backpack temporarily to wrap a curl around his finger, tucking it behind Regulus’ ear. His hair has always been so soft, Sirius thinks. “Yes, Reg. I need you to—”
The sound of a door banging makes the two of them tense, and Sirius is dropping his hand from Regulus’ hair and picking up his backpack once more. “Siri!” Regulus cries, tears now falling down his cheeks as it properly hits him that his brother is leaving him.
“I’m so sorry, Regulus,” Sirius whispers, getting ready to throw the Floo powder and voice his destination.
It is at that moment that Walburga flies down the stairs, murderous intent glaring from her eyes, her formidable figure haunting the halls as she makes her way towards the kitchen. Both Sirius and Regulus look at each other with fear in their wide eyes, blue into grey. “Go!” Regulus shouts and Sirius throws the Floo powder down, calling out for Potter Manor.
It is then that Walburga flies into the kitchen, heaving with anger as she lays her eyes on her two sons with hatred. Before he is taken from Grimmauld Place, Sirius sees his mother reach out and grab Regulus by the scruff of his jumper once more. Regulus yelps, already begging his mother not to hurt him, and as Sirius flashes through space, he watches his mother lunge for the fireplace. Her hand is outstretched, wand pointing directly towards him and as he vanishes from his spot in the green flames, he feels nothing but pain.
When he falls into the large, warm living room at Potter Manor, blood pouring from a deep cut on his torso where his mother’s hex had struck him, he realises that Regulus wasn’t begging for himself, but for Sirius. Even as his fate was sealed being left alone with Orion and Walburga it was still Sirius his little brother called out to protect. It is this and this alone that causes him to break down, weeping onto a soft rug as gentle arms surround him.
❀ ❀ ❀
Regulus watches the place where his brother once stood and flinches as he watches his mother breakdown, screaming louder than she ever has before. Regulus doesn’t realise what is happening, doesn’t realise the severity of Sirius’ actions until he is grabbed by the scruff of his neck once more and forced around by his mother. Along the way he begs for mercy on behalf of Sirius, does what his brother asked and pretends he doesn’t know where Sirius went, just that he left. His mother doesn’t believe him, and when they reach the tapestry room holding their family tree, she forces him to the ground and Crucios him until he cannot feel the bottom half of his body. Regulus weeps into the floor, tears falling rapidly down his cheeks. By this point, Orion has joined them and has been filled in on Sirius’ actions.
Orion spits with fury. “Sirius is an embarrassment to the Noble and Ancient House of Black. Since he was born I have always known that he was weak and cowardly, and then he goes off to Hogwarts and not only disgraces the family name by being sorted into Gryffindor, but also befriends the Potter’s boy, a well known blood-traitor. He will be burned from the family tapestry.”
“No,” Regulus groans, and it is not lost on him that Sirius was in this position a little over forty-five minutes ago, begging on his behalf. Another flash of pain sizzles down his body and it notifies Regulus that his mother had stopped torturing him so that he could hear what his father had to say. His body is in such pain that he didn’t even feel the curse lift. He screams in agony and Walburga tuts at him as if his reaction to torture is distasteful.
“Sirius is no longer your brother and the quicker you accept that, Regulus, the better this will be for you,” Walburga sneers, lifting the curse from him once more. Regulus breathes heavily into the floor, his face pressed against the cold wood, aching for some comfort. “Look at me, boy.”
It takes every ounce of strength within his body to attempt to manoeuvre himself to look at her, but he still can’t feel his legs. Walburga screeches in frustration and Orion steps up, the belt he used earlier on Sirius in his hand.
“No,” Regulus shakes his head, this time for himself, but it is of no use. His father descends on him anyway.
Orion walks over to Regulus, a wild gleam in his eye, like an animal that has gone rabid. “Hold out your arm, boy. Now!”
Without much of a choice, Regulus holds out his left arm and waits with bated breath for his father to bring the belt down. Orion brings the belt down and Regulus has one second before the pain is searing across his entire body, pouring out from where the leather belt has licked his forearm. He rocks backwards at the impact and immediately stiffens, his arm too tender to cradle into himself. The pain is entirely different to the magical one his mother was just inflicting on him. This somehow hits deeper, crueller as his father works up a sweat to bring his belt down on Regulus’ arm once more. After that he goes for his back. Luckily for Regulus, his back is clothed in a few layers and so he does not experience the sting that Sirius felt, but it still shocks him to his core. The Cruciatus curse his mother hit him with leaves him unable to move on the floor, his stomach roiling with the need to throw up, and so he lays there and takes it as his mother burns Sirius from the family tree.
“You are the Black heir now, Regulus, and you will do well to follow everything we tell you,” Walburga is saying, and Regulus isn’t able to move, to shake his head and tell her that isn’t what he wants. That what he wants is Sirius, because Sirius is his brother and he’s thirteen and it’s all he’s ever known.
The only thing that keeps Regulus going is the knowledge that Sirius will be back for him. He has promised Regulus that he and James will be back to save him from their parents, that the two older boys he looks up to will be the heroes of his story. But as Regulus passes out from the pain, he is dumped in his bedroom and kept there for days on end without food. Glasses of water appear in his room at random intervals and it’s been so long that Regulus has learnt not to gulp it down when it first arrives. He never knows whether another glass will make its way into his room.
Whilst he is alone in his room he keeps his spirits raised thinking of Sirius and James planning an epic break out, sometimes his imagination is much like duelling class, in which the two older Gryffindor’s perform incredible feats to get to him, going as far as doing forward rolls and flips. Sometimes, when his mind is hazier as the lack of food gets to him, they’re quiet as they sneak their way around the house, their steps stealthy and alert. In these fantasies, James will find him as Sirius keeps a lookout in the corridor, his beautiful brown eyes widening as he spots Regulus, rushing towards him with the speed he is known for on the Quidditch pitch. He takes Regulus into his arms and apparates them directly from his room, despite the fact that James is fourteen and cannot apparate yet. His brain doesn’t particularly care for such specifics. Regulus just wants to be saved.
By the time Orion and Walburga let him out of his room Regulus has lost count of how many days he has been in there. They do not speak of what they have done to him, but rather start to teach him what Sirius had been learning of being an heir, before he left the responsibility to Regulus. This continues over the course of the summer, Regulus waking up in his room, meeting his father in his study to learn what is expected of him, and then he returns to his room until he has to sleep. He continues the same routine the next day and the next, until they all blur into one. It dawns on him one day, as he sits in his father’s study and listens to him talk of marriage and its advantages within the Sacred Twenty-Eight, that Sirius isn’t coming to save him, and neither is James. He realises that Sirius is a liar and that everything he has ever known is a lie too.
Regulus is thirteen and he is now the heir to the Noble and Ancient House of Black. And he knows that without a doubt he despises his brother, and he despises James Potter and everything he stands for.