InsaneJournal

Who: Regulus and Sirius
What: Black Family Reunion! There will be games and food and... ya, I'm joking.
When: This morning
Where: Their flat
Rating/Warnings: Swearing, all around pratness
Status: Complete


Sirius stamped his way up the stairs will all the elegance of a two year old in a temper tantrum, grumbling under his breath and using language that would have earned him a months worth of detention if he’d been back at Hogwarts. Honestly. What was with people? As pleased as he was that they had missed him while he’d been ‘dead’ (And he was pleased. Sirius needed to be centre of attention, even when he was no longer breathing.), he was not so happy to be told off numerous times by every female he’d ever come into contact with.

He needed to change out of his zombie shirt, have a beer and a cigarette, then go and find James. That was the plan, and he was sticking to it. Rose and Hannah could wait a few hours. Perhaps they’d cool off. And then there was what Al had told him. Regulus was here. Sirius didn’t know where, didn’t really want to know, but he was here. Somewhere in the city. He could be in another bloody dimension and his family still managed to follow him. What did he have to do to be shot of them?

With a sigh, Sirius reached his door and fished in the pocket of his jacket for his keys. As he did so, he heard something. If he’d been in another form, his ears would have pricked up. The animagus froze, staring mutely at the door for a moment, before carefully putting one hand out and trying the handle. The door swung open without protest. Sirius reached for his wand, which he’d been carrying casually stuck behind his ear, and stepped inside.

It was clean.

Someone had come into his home and bloody well cleaned it!!! He’d been gone, what? A few days?! Even for his friends, that was impressive. Sirius groaned, stepping further into the room and raking a hand through his hair.

“What the fuck...?!”

The sound Sirius would have hear was the sound of a whiskey bottle hitting the floor next to the sofa. Regulus wasn’t so much asleep as he’d been able to achieve a state of dark haziness with the help of alcohol. The evening before he’d become bored with simply sitting in an empty apartment and explored a bit around the building, stupid, yes, but he’d not gone too far and the abandoned liquor store proved to have some invaluable treasures. Plus, this was the only way Regulus could get ‘sleep’.

The problem with alcohol hazes is they didn’t vanish simply because you will it, and they distort everything. The sound of keys clicking cylinders echoed along with footsteps on the floor. He couldn’t distinguish the words being spoken, just that someone was speaking. With a heavy hand Regulus rubbed lethargically at his eyes to make out the light-silhouetted frame.

It was odd that that frame, sideways from the cant of Regulus’ head on the sofa, was starting to materialize into someone very familiar. But, fuzzy neurons sparked at the memories of what people told him of his brother and inferi, this wasn’t possible.

Which could only mean...

Regulus screamed, thinking the seemingly impossible safety of the building had been breached and the undead were now breaking into his home. And he continued to scream as he scrambled back over the sofa arm, wand drawn but he knew he was still to out of it to actually protect himself.

Sirius wasn’t that much quicker than Regulus when it came to processing exactly who was currently semi-conscious on his sofa. He also didn’t have the luxury of being intoxicated to soften the blow, but still, he didn’t particularly want to face up to this now. He’d at least wanted to have a nap before he’d opened this particular jar of worms. Some strange emotion twisted deep in the young man’s chest, and he did his very best to ignore it, burying it far away in the back of his thoughts as his brother narrowed his eyes in his direction and then proceeded to have what Sirius could only describe as a complete fit. Some things never changed.

Regulus all but fell off the sofa, leaving Sirius standing, a little stunned, in the middle of the carpet. Regulus. Regulus was here. In his home. With a mostly empty bottle of whiskey. Well, wasn’t that absolutely delightful? Sirius took a deep breath, pulled his shoulders back and carefully arranged the handsome planes of his features into his typical cocky expression. Lips curled up at the corners into a tight smirk, one arched eyebrow quirking as something unpleasant flashed in his eyes.

“You sound more like Mother every day.” Sirius’ smirk fell away, and he coiled his own fingers a little tighter around his wand as he eyed Regulus’ warily. He wouldn’t put it past his little brother to hex him. “Any reason you’re sprawled out in my flat, Regulus?”

After emptying his lungs that second time Regulus was more in a state to hear words rather than just the muffled impression they were leaving on his mind. And inferi didn’t speak, they moaned and groaned but they weren’t creatures of elegant communications.

“You’re not dead?” He was gulping great lungfuls of air, a vain effort to catch his breath, it did nothing for his racing heart which had little to do with lack of oxygen and more to do with the fright of thinking ones brother was back from the dead to feed on your flesh.

“And I do not sound like her,” Regulus furrowed his brow into a glare for Sirius, he wasn’’t so arrogant to try and contort his features into their most advantageous appearance. He took issue, though, with being compared to the Mrs. Walburga Black, Regulus wasn’t so fond of her himself. ”They told me you were dead. You’re not dead?” He asked it again, but his mind really needed more confirmation of that before he could move onto topics like current residencies.

Sirius rolled his eyes, moving forward and seizing the empty bottle from where it had been abandoned beside his sofa. “Nope. Sorry to disappoint.” He slipped his wand back behind his ear, turned on his heel and loped into the kitchen under the pretence of putting the bottle in the bin. No mention of the fact that Sirius had never cleaned anything up in his life. But he didn’t want to look at his brother. Even being in the same room as him was suffocating.

Sirius paused by the side, placing the bottle down with a clink and curling his long fingers around the edge of the work-surface, tight enough for his knuckles to whiten. Merlin. It really was one thing after another in this place. He took another breath, feeling annoyingly clean air flood his chest, before lifting his voice to call back to the younger Black. “What are you doing here?”

He reached out automatically, finding the kettle and flicking the switch. With the smell of stale alcohol still rich in the air, his craving for beer had lessened slightly. Coffee was what he needed. Then perhaps a hole to hide in until he could sort his head out.

Regulus slipped back down to the seat of the sofa, the arm really wasn’t so dignified, not that he was in sort of dignified state being half hungover as he was, but he could make an attempt. Using the heel of his hands he scrubbed at his eyes to try and rub away the grainy feeling. He also took a moment to breath and steady his heart rate, still unresponsive to his will.

He sat up straight when he heard the bottle placed on the counter and he watched his brother’s back while he started the kettle. Just fuck. This was how it always was between them, they may not have shared a roof since Regulus was just turning fifteen but he could still pick out Sirius’ body language and meanings. Besides, who wouldn’t be put out to find someone else now in what you considered your home.

However, it did set the tone for the conversation and Regulus was willing to rise to what ever level his brother was going to take this.

“Well, for one obvious reason, Sirius, I live here.” Really, Regulus thought to himself, why else would he even be here?

“Oooooh no,” Sirius whirled around, teaspoon in hand, waving the piece of cutlery at his brother as if he very much intended to attack him with it. Although, admittedly, the amount of damage he was likely to do was probably quite minimal, it couldn’t be denied that there was feeling behind the gesture. “You are not staying here. I don’t give a shit what the bloody PDA told you.” He glared at his brother, meeting the stare Regulus was offering evenly, before turning back around and grabbing a recently washed mug from the side.

Sirius made his coffee furiously, heaping a small mountain of sugar into the steaming black concoction and throwing it back angrily. Almost immediately, his fingers twitched. Sirius was hardly a relaxed person on the best of days. Give him a caffeine overdose and a heaping of family drama and it was a wonder he didn’t explode. The animagus slammed the mug down, and the crack of its impact on the counter rattled through the room.

“This is a pissing joke,” he muttered to no’ one in particular, before turning back to his brother. For the first time, Sirius allowed himself to examine the younger boy properly, trying to gauge exactly what was happening here. Regulus looked older than he had last time Sirius had seen him, at Hogwarts. But not in the obvious sense. He looked... Sirius searched for the word... tired. Beaten. Like someone had sucked the life from him. Automatically, despite himself, his eyes flickered down to his brothers forearm.

“When are you from?” The question was sharp, snapped out bitterly. Sirius remained stubbornly by the counter, refusing to come any closer than he needed to.

That spoon waving would be humorous at any other given moment but the virulence in those words made the gesture far more threatening than it had any right to be.

“Oh, right, this is a joke, I’m just laughing so hard it’s not even perceptible to human ears!” Regulus shot back, normally he didn’t do well with confrontations and did his damnedest to avoid them, but this one he wasn’t escaping and he was really in just that kind of mood where his emotions were riding so close to the surface the slightest rub could break them loose. Failing at dying and ending up here could do that to a person, or so Regulus assumed as it was happening to him. And that slam of the mug was a gong vibration to nerves already stretched thin.

“Where else was I supposed to go? Out in that city?” He’d been an inferi snack once, he couldn’t just throw myself out there again. “Stop caring so much, Sirius, I won’t recognize you.”

He started to say more but noticed Sirius’ eyes travel to his wrist the instant they started moving. It was interesting how one act could completely deflate his anger and fill that void with shame and contrition. The bitter words he was gearing up to say vanished with his anger. Instead he tugged on his left sleeve, not even bothering to hide the act, it wasn’t as if Sirius didn’t know what he was.

“November, the year was ninteen-seventy-nine.”

Regulus tugged at his sleeve, pulling the fabric down over a pale forearm in a way that made bile claw its way up his older brother’s throat. It wasn’t as if he hadn’t known, as if he hadn’t been expecting it. But seeing it flaunted so obviously before him wasn’t something he would ever enjoy. Despite himself, Sirius couldn’t help but be aware that he and Regulus hadn’t always been at each others throats. There had been a time.... But he wouldn’t think about that. It was long gone now.

The date surprised him. That would make Regulus eighteen years old. Sirius’s face distorted into a look of pure disgust, his features twisting grotesquely, eyes still locked on the symbol he knew would be emblazoned over his sibling’s skin.

“Didn’t waste any bloody time did you? I bet she was so proud.” His voice trailed off into a bitter drawl, reminiscent of their childhood in a thousand ways. Regulus had always been the perfect son, the fucking golden boy, while Sirius had never been left in the dark with how much of a disappointment he was. Well, if that was what they had wanted, Regulus was welcome to his part. Sirius had a new family now.

Groaning, Sirius pushed himself away from the side and strode into the main room, glancing around for something new to distract him. Hidden in a corner, out of the way and almost as if someone had tried to hide it, there was a glint of black and silver, polished metal and taunt leather. Sirius strode to the bike, running a hand over the saddle and squatting down to check the engine mounted on the side, his shoulders tense.

“Snape’s here, and Pettigrew.” The second name, in particular, was snapped out with so much bitterness it was a small wonder no’ one fell down dead. Sirius toyed lovingly with a spring on the back suspension, scowling heavily. “I’m sure you’ll be more than welcome with them.”

Regulus watched his brother’s face just a fraction of a second before he couldn’t take the disappointment any more and he dropped his gaze to somewhere around this cuticles as he picked at them. What could he say, he’d just turned of age when he took the Mark, he even had a year left at Hogwarts then.

“They were at first.” He didn’t know why he admitted that, it wasn’t a justification of anything, shit, it probably made things more confusing, he knew it did for him. Maybe it was just to answer a statement that wasn’t exactly true. They were proud at first, but when they realized what the Dark Lord was willing to do, what he required of his followers, they had withdrawn that approval and replaced it with something closer to what Sirius was directing at Regulus now.

Regulus remained silent as Sirius continued to stare at him, he’d become quite familiar with the feeling of eyes boring into him. And he didn’t say anything as Sirius move fully into the main room to examine that monstrous bike of his and started listing off placed to dump him. Regulus was smart enough to know this was some level of caring from Sirius, he could have insisted the streets were safe now.

“Pettigrew?” Regulus did look up at that, confusion clear in his tone. “Why would I want to see him?” Severus, yes, Regulus had already been planning to see him, but why the bloody hell would Sirius think Regulus wanted to have anything to do with one of Sirius’ friends?

Sirius could feel Regulus’ eyes boring into the back of his head as he froze in what he was doing, fingers tangled around a bolt on the bike as he worked to tighten it. Of course, the bike didn’t need any work - the thing was calibrated to perfection and back again. But it was something to do, and working on his beloved machine almost always calmed Sirius down. Apart from now. Regulus’ question caused the muscles in Sirius’ back to tighten and knot together angrily. Before he knew it, he was standing and whirling to face his brother, reaching for his wand, features distorted in fury. “Don’t pretend you don’t...”

The look on the other mans face was enough to cause the words to catch in his throat. He didn’t know. He really didn’t know. Sirius thought he felt the bile claw up his throat again, and was mildly surprised when it exploded from his lips in a bark of manic laughter. “Merlin! You don’t know?” He narrowed his eyes at his brother, before snorting again, shaking hair from his eyes.

“Darling Pete’s a Death Eater. Managed to fuck everything up in a way even you probably couldn’t have managed. Seems I can’t get away from your kind no matter how hard I bloody try.”

Sirius was reaching for his wand, that was plain as day, and he was piping hot furious about something Regulus had said, but for the life of him Regulus couldn’t figure that out what. He was grasping for his own wand to defend himself when Sirius stopped and barked.

“I don’t know wh-” he started to shot back, his voice cracking a bit, shocked at his brother’s forward actions, but Sirius cut him off, silencing him rather well. That declaration was certainly one Regulus was not expecting.

Peter was a Death Eater too? When had that happened? Regulus scrapped his still somewhat alcohol hazy brain for a memory that might confirm this information, but came up dry. The majority of his dealings as a Death Eater happened after he left Hogwarts and those times were often chased by periods of heavy drinking, potion use, even drug use if he couldn’t get his hands on the right potions, and mind altering substances did their jobs well. If he’d had any interaction with Peter in the capacity of Death Eater Regulus couldn’t remember it.

“No,” he shook his head emphatically, “I didn’t know he was.”

Sirius stared for a moment, considering. It wasn’t a topic he liked to talk about. Godric, it was one he’d go to the ends of the Earth to avoid if he had to. But Regulus would find out sooner or later, and Sirius supposed, reluctantly, that it was better he found out now than having him running around shooting his mouth off and upsetting anyone. With yet another frustrated sigh, Sirius threw his wand down on the sofa and sank into the seat as far away from Regulus as it was possible to get.

“Peter was James’ secret keeper,” he told him, keeping his gaze tracked down on his hands, fingers twisting into a web of slender digits in his lap. “He’s going to tell... told your boss where to find them, and James and Lily were killed. Get killed.” Stupid timelines. They made telling stories bloody difficult. Sirius’ voice cracked despite himself, and he absently checked his PDA to see if Prongs had messaged him, keeping his gaze from Regulus’. “I get blamed for it, get chucked in Azkaban for a decade... Apparently my future’s a bloody riot.”

Chucking his PDA down on the sofa beside him, Sirius turned challengingly to stare the younger Black down. His knee jumped anxiously, long fingers suddenly drumming an irregular rhythm against his jeans. “And that, Regulus, is why I don’t want a fucking Death Eater in my flat.”

Regulus resisted the urge to let his jaw drop with each bit of information Sirius told him, he bit his lip and kept his focus down, away from Sirius. He hated Sirius, but he hated himself more for hating his brother, it was a vicious cycle that fed Regulus need for self-loathing. Because he actually did genuinely care for Sirius at the same, god dammed time and as much as Sirius would deny it if asked directly Regulus could tell his brother was very hurt and upset at the betrayal of his friend, but Regulus knew he couldn’t show that he cared about that because that would just piss off Sirius more.

“You, of all people, don’t belong in Azkaban,” he said quietly, still not looking at Sirius. And that’s all he could say about that without risking igniting something dangerous.

He shifted forward to stand, willing to give up this argument he’d been so set on fighting but now couldn’t pull up the might to do so. Sirius had a very good reason to not want someone of Regulus’ affiliation in his home, family not excluded from that. Regulus even stood and faced the door, he didn’t really own anything but what was on him.

But he didn’t move forward. All his life he’d let people assume what he wanted, his thoughts, and plot his direction, all his life until the last week of his life, that is. He turned back to face Sirius, he couldn’t let his own brother assume one, probably inconsequential in Sirius’ eye fact about him. He wasn’t angry, but determined to see this got said, “I’m not, I was a Death Eater,” it was amazing he was able to say that with a steady voice, but he did have to ball in hands into fists to keep his right one from moving to tug on his left sleeve, “but I’m not anymore.”

Regulus got to his feet, making the sofa shift a little as the weight changed. At the same time Sirius slumped back, letting the cushions mould to his shape as he watched silently. For a moment, relief made him relax, but then the other man was turning back, and Sirius had to work to stop his frustration showing in his face. He just wanted to be left alone. Or at least with company that didn’t make him want to punch a wall. And then Regulus said something he really hadn’t been expecting.

“You’re not... what?!” Sirius leaned forward, confusion etched into his face. Regulus had been headed towards being a Death Eater since he’d hit his teens. And from what he’d seen, it wasn’t something that you could back out of easily. And why would his brother even have wanted to? Sirius rose slowly to his feet, suspicion taking the place of his confusion. “What are you on about?”

Regulus was expecting disbelief to what he’d just said, or more of a protest of the truthfulness of what he’d just said, after all Sirius seemed to be operating under the assumption that Regulus hadn’t turned on the Dark Lord, or so the tone of this whole meeting seemed to suggest. But the way Sirius looked at him and spoke belied something else, that this was actually news to him. This confused Regulus greatly, because Al had said everyone knew what Regulus had done. Had Al really meant everyone but his brother?

“I’m not a Death Eater anymore,” he repeated, though, he realized that didn’t provide much of a context for Sirius. Regulus swallowed, he didn’t really want to go into the details. Al had made it seem heroic, and it wasn’t, it was practical and came with an outcome more desirable than living had provided. Plus there would always be that question ‘why’ which would invariably lead to more questions, and then to answers Regulus absolutely would not discuss.

“I didn’t want to be- I did, yes, up until I realized what was required of me to join but then it was too late and I couldn’t back out... not without being killed,” he started out loud, defiant, but finished halted and defeated, he knew how that painted him and he looked away because he knew Sirius would stare at him with more disappointed looks. “But I’m not now.”

Sirius struggled for something to say. He should have guessed that would happen. Now it was shown to him it seemed obvious, inevitable. Regulus had never been one for cruelty. At least, not like that. Hadn’t he treated Kreacher with more kindness than everyone else in the family combined? It should have been clear he wouldn’t have the backbone for all the things Sirius had seen the Death Eaters do. For a moment, something close to sympathy stirred in the older brother’s gut, but he forced it aside. Just because Regulus had got himself in too deep, had found himself in over his head, did not absolve what his brother had done. He had brought it on himself, and Sirius’ feelings for him and the rest of family were too strong to erase that quickly.

“Chicken out, did you?” Sirius tried his best to keep the scornful tone to his voice, but found it faltered a little. “Dunno why I’m surprised.” He levered himself to his feet, shoving his hands in his pockets and examining his brother carefully, as if hoping to find something hidden in the boys expression. Then he sighed, and dropped his gaze as he scooped up his wand and phone. “Y’know what, Regulus? Just make yourself at home. I’m going out.”

He hesitated as something occurred to him, hovering awkwardly before his slightly tipsy sibling, spinning his wand casually between long fingers. “You should probably know... Nymphadora’s here. Andromeda’s daughter.”

Regulus’ jaw dropped then, but he found no words to counter Sirius’ accusation. When he realized what he was doing he snapped his mouth shut and just stared at his brother with a very confused expression. Did Sirius just ridicule him for finally taking the step to break away from the very organization that Sirius said made him detestable and unacceptable to live with? That kind of logic was impossible to argue against.

He also didn’t know what to say about Nyphadora. In Regulus’ memory the girl was what? six or seven years old? Maybe. Regulus wasn’t exactly sure, any information he had learned about her was heard as whispers in the halls at other family members’ homes, those daring enough to talk about removed family members.

Regulus saw his only move was to step out of Sirius’ way, he was sure his brother would resort to physical force if Regulus tried to do otherwise, and he did so silently and without any kind of protest.

Sirius rolled his eyes, shoving his phone in his pocket and slipping his wand back behind his ear as Regulus moved aside. The older boy pushed past, keeping his head down and his breathing even. He wasn’t even sure what was wrong with him. Except that having to share living space with Regulus was bringing up memories of a time he’d really done his best to escape, and the fact that he was being made to leave his house by one of them again was touching a nerve he didn’t even know still existed.

Sirius hesitated by the door, hand braced on the handle as he glanced over one shoulder to Regulus. His tongue came out, wetting his dry lips anxiously before he spoke. “Don’t go in my room.”

Merlin’s sake. He felt like he was fifteen again. With a slightly canine growl curling his top lip, Sirius wrenched the door open and hurried out, letting it slam shut behind him as he flicked open his phone and proceeded to send some very irritated messages.