InsaneJournal

Who: Sirius and Regulus with Eames and Ariadne showing up at the end
What: A big big argument
When: Today, afternoonish
Where: On the streets
Rating/Warnings: High for swearing and brotherly falling-outs
Status: Complete


People did not ignore Sirius Black. They hated him, yes. They argued with him, loved him, laughed with him and hexed him. But they didn’t ignore him. He didn’t let them ignore him. And after everything that had happened to change the relationship between the two Black brothers, Sirius was not happy with Regulus’ sudden attempts to do just that. He didn’t understand why his brother was acting like the worlds biggest twat, why the younger boy had decided to suddenly regress back to how things had been so many weeks ago. But whatever was happening here, people did not ignore him, and he certainly wasn’t about to let his brother shove him away without any fucking reason - who was he to decide that?

Over the last few days, the irritation and frustration had been growing, boiling gently in the pit of his stomach and under his skin until Sirius couldn’t stand it. He’d been trying to hide it, keep it to himself so as not to alarm Remus or anyone else, but it was painful. It was almost aching. And this morning he’d gone to visit the flat on the floor below, and found his best mate gone. James and Lily were both gone, sent home to that place where Pete would betray them and they’d both be torn from him. And something had broken inside Sirius when he’d realized that. So now the older brother waited in the cold, perched on the top of a bench halfway down one of the roads leading to Regulus’ building, his wand twirling between his fingers anxiously as he waited. Regulus would come back this way soon - Sirius was sure of it.He’d seen him leave a little while ago on one of the maps, and sure enough it wasn’t long before he recognized the boy striding down the pavement towards him. Even at a distance Regulus looked skinnier, for some reason, paler with darker eyes and an odd, defeated slump to the way he carried himself.

Sirius slipped down from his perch, gaze fixed on his brother in a furious stare, silently daring him to turn and attempt to escape him. “Remember me?” he shot down the street, lifting his voice enough for the words to carry over the space between them, even with the wind threatening to rip his voice away. “What the fuck is going on, Regulus?”

Regulus was mostly ignoring everyone. Mostly it was because he didn’t reach out to anyone. If they wanted to see him or talk to him they came to him. Ariadne, Juno, Morgana and Merlin had all figured this out and had each called him or texted him in turn, and then came over uninvited but never turned away so long as they were willing to put up with his silences or him retreating back to his room. Nonresponsive, but he didn’t physically push them away.

Regulus couldn’t deny, however, things were different with his brother. Sirius was, to put it mildly, caustic and abrasive and insisted on doing everything his way, which included being inconsistent. One moment he was thanking god Regulus wasn’t dead, one very brief moment at that, and the next he was accusing Regulus of keeping his friend dead. Regulus struggled to deal with that swinging pendulum when he was in a better state of mind, there was no real way for Regulus to handle his brother when he teetered on the edge of sanity. Equipped with the ability to not feel anything Regulus simply took to ignoring his brother’s loud and increasingly more annoying attempts to get his attention.

This tactic could only last so long, Regulus knew. It was just a matter of time before Sirius presented his demands for attention in physical form.

All week Regulus had been toying with the idea of stepping out to purchase his old habit and then slink into some motel for the night. Maybe it would help him… feel something again, pain, joy, whatever. It was an idea, poorly thought out to be sure, but it did show he might not want to stay stuck in this spot forever. He’d accomplished the first leg but found, upon placing the stuff in his pocket and then facing the decision of what direction to head, he just wanted to go back to his own flat, slip under the covers on his bed and pull a pillow over his eyes to shut out the world. To find a motel now just seemed an overly exhaustive task. So Regulus headed home, where he might not slip under the covers, instead he might just flop down on his bed, but he would definitely pull a pillow over his eyes and check out for another night.

But that was not to be without a bit of difficulty.

He saw his brother before Sirius stepped out into his path. He thought about crossing to the other side of the street, but knew at this point Sirius would just follow him. The only way was through the confrontation.

“Yes.” Regulus didn’t feel the need to elaborate. Eames had told Regulus, when he’d first arrived back in the city, that Sirius was ubiquitous. Regulus thought that was a gross overstatement of his brother’s nature. He also believed it fed his brother’s ego to the point he was unbearable. But it was true that whatever Sirius was, he was hard to forget.

“I just want to be left alone, Sirius.” It was obvious to everyone else why Regulus wanted to be left alone, he’d come back broken in a way that putting himself back together required too much energy, too much thought to figure out, or just plain outside of his skill set. Sirius, it seemed, refused to see it, or just didn’t care and pressed on with his own selfish wants – both of which were precisely why Regulus didn’t want to deal with his brother.

Sirius did not like it when people refused to argue with him. He liked a fight. There was no satisfaction when no’ one was shouting or swearing coming back at you, you just came away feeling like a dick. And that just made him madder. Sirius’ shoulders tensed defensively. “You mean you want me to leave you alone,” he retorted, sharply, his face setting into a furious glare, the hurt that may have come with that sentence drowned by accusation and anger. He wasn’t stupid, despite what some people said – he just hid it well. And he knew Regulus had seen the others this past week. Perhaps he wasn’t as fucking emotional as most of the saps that swanned around, but he was Regulus’ fucking brother. And after all this, he hadn’t been ready for the way this apparent rejection stung. Regulus clearly wasn’t even happy to be alive, even if it was just for his sake.

“For fucks sake,” he snapped, “At least have the balls to fucking admit when you have a problem with me. Don’t just skulk around like your spine took a quick spring holiday.” Sirius wand was still in his hand, and he forced himself to slip it into his jeans pocket before Regulus’ hair conveniently set on fire. This was fucking ridiculous. Like he wasn’t used to his family blowing hot and cold on him. Actually, to be fair, his family had been almost frozen solid when it came to the eldest Black boy since before he could remember. But still, Regulus had always been… different. And Sirius knew now he was a twat for even letting himself think that this time could be different. This was why he’d given up bothering. Why he should have stuck to not bothering.

As he stood there in the street, blocking Regulus’ path, Sirius couldn’t see that fact that his brother was hurting. Worse than that. That he was broken. Even if he could have seen it he doubted he would have cared. His anger had been boiling for a while now and now that he was here it was all he could do to keep in check for even a little while before it exploded out of him. The elder sibling took a deep breath through his nostrils, willing the rush of blood that was starting to pound in his ears to slow. Looking down on Regulus now, he rather wanted to hit him. Hit him and hurt him for looking so bloody miserable and pathetic when all Sirius was trying to do, albeit in his own twisted way, was try and do something good for him. Didn’t Regulus see that? Didn’t he even care?

“Care to share with the group what in the name of fuck it is I’m supposed to have done?”

Regulus opened his mouth to admit maybe Sirius had a point, that he hadn’t been particularly receptive to his brother, whereas he’d not completely rebuffed everyone else. An interesting tug towards some kind of emotional variation, this was his brother after all. But it didn’t last long because then his brother had to jab at him about being spineless and something sparked in the back of his mind, the echo of another voice telling him he was exactly that. And then Regulus had slipped back down into the safety of not feeling anything, where, yes, he didn’t care. He sighed instead of answering and raised his eyebrows as if to say, You say that and you wonder why?

Regulus stood there for a few more minutes, taking in the way his brother practically bristled with anger. The deliberate way his brother pocketed his wand was not lost on Regulus. So this was going to be like last time. He quickly analyzed the situation, weighed the opinions he could readily see, their outcomes and benefits, or more appropriately their detriments. The conclusion, no matter the course navigated this would not end well for Regulus.

That seemed to be a theme of his life since stepping on that train to Hogwarts the first time.

“Last time I saw you, you didn’t want me here,” he shrugged and committed himself to action. With no beneficial option it was best to just ignite the whole thing and let it burn as quickly as possible. “I’m just tired of your selfish horseshit.” Regulus started forward again despite Sirius standing in the way.

Sirius spluttered. Sirius Black, who usually had an answer for everything, actually spluttered. Quickly catching himself, not moving an inch when Regulus moved and instead standing his ground, giving his brother every opportunity to collide with him, Sirius glared down at him. He swallowed hard, willing his temper down and instead letting his hand clench into a tight, painful fist at his side, nails digging into his palm as he worked to cling onto that last rapidly fraying thread of self-control. He thought about James and Remus, how pissed off they’d both be with him if he threw away their good efforts on getting the Black siblings actually talking on one single furious, mad moment. But even he knew that in this particular situation, that was a bit like holding back the tide. And James wasn’t here any more to judge him anyway. A shiver of pain and loss drove itself deep into his chest.

“Don’t give me that crap,” Sirius warned Regulus, his voice low and shaking a little with the effort of keeping it that way, a dangerous and icy edge to his words. “I did care. And even after everything you didn’t have the good fucking grace to even pretend to be happy you’d come back, could see me and everyone else again. After fucking everything, you still don’t give enough of a shit to even try to care. So tell me why I should fucking bother. Why should I? When there were people who actually wanted to come back to me.”

And those words were way more hurt, way more vulnerable than he had intended, but fuck it. It was the truth. He had had enough this week, enough of having Regulus show everyone that he’d rather have stayed dead. Would rather face whatever the fuck he claimed to have seen than attempt to spend time with him and rectify their years of division. And he had the nerve to call him selfish. He was the one who was drowning in self-pity, just ignoring Sirius and hanging the feelings of everyone around him, despite the fact that he’d been given not even a second, but a third chance. A chance that so many of Sirius’ friends back home had been denied at the hands of people like Regulus.

Regulus didn’t see this as a second or third chance, never had, not when the demons in his memory and his brother reminded him daily there was no way he could make up for the things he’d done, be forgiven, or elevated to a place of unconditional love and support. He had died rescuing his brother and that still wasn’t enough to halt the snide insults and jabs and cruel, unfair accusations. If Regulus could trade his life for any one of those wanting a second chance he would do it in a heartbeat, and sadly, he knew he would still be in the same rut with his conscience, and more heart wrenchingly, with his brother. His brother’s voice, at the moment, might be betraying some hint of being hurt, but to Regulus those were lies on his tongue - ten seconds of showing relief he was alive left him unconvinced Regulus brother cared Nothing he did would change anything, so why not just let him be, let him fade away?

Regulus was normally good with words. Sirius had after all described him as having a dictionary shoved up his arse, and Regulus secretly took the mild insult as a compliment, though he would never tell Sirius that. He could walk around the truth of a matter without lying but never actually confirming what someone believed, or he could leave someone feeling as if he’d promised one thing when he’d actually done the complete opposite. His one caveat was his emotions, so long as he avoided that topic he was fine.

But that was a big exception, and one that ruled his life right at the moment. He had no basis to explain he wanted to care but couldn’t, that he wanted to feel something but in the place of where his mind processed and produced emotions he had this black, empty chasm that seemed to widen daily. He knew something was wrong but didn’t know who he could trust and tell. And that he needed something but whatever it was Sirius was trying wasn’t the right thing, and the guilt and accusations only eroded the edges of that cavern more. Everything inside him was screaming for someone to reach him, but the call for help failed when he tried opening his mouth.

Instead of looking for avenues of clear communication the only thing present on Regulus’ mind was his dark room, and the emptiness inside those four walls. And the only way there was through his brother. Regulus stepped off the curb and into the street to bypass his brother, though he knew he wouldn’t make it around. As he did so he said in a flat tone loud enough, “Forgive me, I misunderstood, did getting me killed affect you more than it did me?”

Sirius stepped neatly off the curb to intercept his sibling, one hand coming up in a ‘whoa’ gesture. The accusation had gone straight into him, like a blade piercing his chest and sending shockwaves singing through a suddenly empty shell as he stared, a little disbelievingly, at Regulus. Of course, he’d thought it. He’d been hauntingly aware that this was his fault, had kept from saying it to anyone because that made it true and real and it had been a hell of a lot easier just to stew on it on his own. If Regulus hadn’t gone out with him that day, if he hadn’t insisted on going on the first place… If he’d known anything more than his knocked together knowledge of healing charms… As if he hadn’t thought all of that a million times over. But Regulus had said it, which meant he thought it too and wasn’t beyond using it to try and get Sirius off his back. That was how much he wanted him gone.

Sirius’ jaw gritted, and the momentarily shocked emptiness which had followed his brothers statement vanished as overly defensive anger rushed to fill it. It was Sirius’ go-to emotion. When he was upset, or hurting or guilty, it manifested itself as fury. And right now he was all three. “What are you doing? Do you want me gone?” he hissed. Then froze, and felt reality hit him full on, crashing against him in a way that was solid and undeniable. “You actually do, don’t you?” Regulus had said it before. Many times, in fact. But Sirius hadn’t believed him because he said crap he didn’t mean all the time and he’d kind of thought – hoped - that was what Regulus was doing. But he wasn’t. And the sting of rejection was suddenly back but it was a thousand times worse because this time he was sure it was permanent, that something was breaking once again between them. The delicate connection they’d clumsily forged being torn slowly in two.

“Fucking hell,” Sirius’ features distorted into an unpleasant, bitter sneer, walls suddenly going up. “Don’t know why I’m shocked. None of you lot could ever stand me, could you?”

Regulus had expected that hand and had stopped well before his body made contact with it. He eyed it warily. No touching. He took another step out into the street, glancing despondently down the road towards home. If he could just get around his brother.

Even if Regulus had all his mental faculties about him he wouldn’t have allowed himself to feel much sympathy for his brother. So many reasons prevented it. All the times since Regulus had shown up in this place that his brother had shoved him aside. How many times had Regulus been kicked out of the flat before he finally just moved out on his own? The insults, the lack of forgiveness, the accusations, Sirius could claim all he wanted that he just said things he didn’t mean, but that didn’t make them any less dismissing, or hurtful. When Sirius had shown up confused and mentally broken Regulus had dropped everything, all his plans for that day and all the nexts, until Sirius had come back in his right mind, to make sure his brother was all right. Regulus had done anything, shy of lending his wand, for his brother, even revealing a part of him he’d never shown anyone before. Regulus reappeared distraught and wrecked and his brother offered him rejection and silence for days. And now he demanded Regulus meet him on his terms, something Regulus clearly could not do.

Just like all those years ago, when he had been a scared little boy trying to catch his brother’s eye from across a crowded dinning hall as he sat for the first time among his new House mates and hoped the silent sorry he mouthed would be enough. But it wasn’t enough, nothing after that had ever been enough.

“Right, I can’t stand you. That’s why my patronus is what again?” his voice sounded tired, almost dead. He took another step to the side and forward, expecting Sirius to deter him once again. “No, Sirius, it’s you who can’t stand me, I’m just tired of trying to change your mind.”

Sirius blocked his brother again, already slightly bored by this weird dance they were doing, wishing Regulus would just stand his ground for once and argue with him. Was that so much to ask? Sirius threw his head back with a frustrated groan, giving the sky and whatever dickhead had them stuck here a furious look. “Don’t fucking push that on me! You don’t want that as your patronus. You’d change it in a heartbeat if you could. People who give a shit don’t get ’tired of trying, okay?”

He glared, wanting nothing more in that moment than to hurt Regulus. To get him out of this slump and have him talking and shouting and swearing. Anything but these clipped, dead sentences. There was a pressure building in his chest at the unfairness of it all, how his brother could be so fucking calm when he felt like he might explode at any moment. “Did you get ‘tired of trying’ to stand up to Her? ‘Tired of trying’ to be a fucking decent person? What the fuck do you want me to do to make it easier for you, Regulus? You won’t let me even try anymore!”

Because Regulus seemed to want so much from Sirius, when he himself wouldn’t even make the effort to pick up the phone when he called or answer a text. When he knew they were just as damaged as each other and Sirius simply couldn’t be as open as people wanted him to be. The older boy took a deep breath, realizing his voice had climbed dangerously, cutting through the cool January air and bouncing off the concrete buildings. “You know what?” he hissed. “I’m not going to be the one fucking running around after you. I was right years ago when it came to you. You’re as bad as the rest of them. Actually…” he took a stride back, a scoff and sarcastic, wild grin ripping his face in two. “You’re worse. Because at least She was fucking honest with what she thought.”

Both of them were damaged, unfortunately, with no help for what they really needed readily in sight, and without which nothing could be easy between them. Interesting in a very poignant way, both wanted the same thing, to not be shoved aside and forgotten, though each was convinced the other was doing just that. And both were certainly guilty of doing just that, and both felt they had good reasons. Regulus did have good reasons, but it all boiled back down to being damaged with no way to fix the thing within that was shattered, and had been so since almost infancy and growing up in that house. Which meant Sirius had good reasons to do the same to Regulus. Though, none of this made it right. It just made it depressingly true.

Something close to hurt flashed across Regulus’ eyes. He couldn’t conjure much emotion at the moment, so even this smallest bit was an amazing feat. But it wasn’t for what he was sure his brother would think it was for. Regulus wouldn’t change his patronus if he could. Sometimes he felt it was bloody unfair, and maybe even a nod to some cosmic humor that mere mortals weren’t supposed to find funny, but that didn’t mean he would change it. Just as he’d never wished anyone else had been his brother. Severus had come close, but Severus had always been something different, close to filling Sirius’ shoes when Regulus had needed someone, but even then Regulus had never wished for anyone but Sirius to be his goddamned brother. His patronus was an undeniable expression of that. It was something so real and deeply part of him, he’d always thought it had been the only good thing about himself, and to have it be so misjudged and dismissed was enough to cause that glimmer of a change across his features. All the rest Sirius spat at him was just a variation of what Regulus told himself on a daily, no, hourly basis, to hear it repeated by his brother wasn’t all that jarring.

This was first real emotion displayed during their conversation, felt since Regulus’ return, even. How achingly sad it would be this.

To cover the breach in his calm exterior Regulus diverted his gaze to some spot to the left. “If it makes you feel better you can believe that.” Despite the small display of emotion his tone was just as flat and dull.

“Let me pass.”

There was a reaction. Emotion flashed for the briefest moment across Regulus’ eyes, too quickly for Sirius to identify but still something. Angry triumph, arrogant and misplaced, ran up Sirius’ spine, pushing at him just to try harder. To prod and poke and jab at Regulus until he had to fucking respond to him. Sirius hadn’t been a nice person at school. He’d been undeniably popular, but he hadn’t been nice. Of course, to a great deal he’d been pleasant, charming, if a bit dismissive. To a select three he’d been as loyal as it was possible to be, had loved them fiercely and completely and would have laid down his life any second. And then there’d been the rest, who he had taunted and bullied and whose lives he had made a living hell. Usually for no other reason than his own entertainment. If there was one thing he knew, it was that. And right now his head, filled as it was with angry red mist, didn’t have another option to offer him.

“No,” he replied smoothly, cutting him off yet again. And they could have been teenagers in a school corridor again for the familiar way Sirius smirked arrogantly down on his brother, shaking his hair back as if performing for an invisible crowd on onlookers, all brotherly emotion carefully kept hidden away. “No, I don’t think I will.”

He wanted to wind Regulus up past the point where he could block him out, to get that reaction back and show him that if he was going to act like a prick and try and shrug Sirius off, he’d have to deal with the fall-out. He’d have to deal with Sirius as he had been then, at his very worst.

“You can’t have anywhere important to be…” he added, thoughtfully. “It’s not as if you do anything useful. Unless… Oooh.” He forced himself to smile, a sharp, cold grin that didn’t feel right as his stomach squirmed with sudden emotion he didn’t want to examine. Sirius shoved the feeling down, finding that dark corner which until weeks ago he had hidden all his feelings for his brother and locking them back there. Down where they would fester and rot and he would do his best to ignore them. “Unless you did a little shopping when you were out? Now, now, Regulus. What would Mummy say if she knew what her golden boy was pumping into that perfectly pure blood of his, hmm? What would all your ‘friends’ here say?”

A small part of Regulus had hoped, futilely, that his brother would see the fluctuation of emotions and decide to give just a little and back down. That was one of the reasons for the confrontation, right? Or had Regulus misunderstood that? It was a foolish, and maybe even a vain hope, and Regulus must have mixed up on his interpretation of things because his brother solidified before him, impossible though it seemed, blocking Regulus’ completely in that direction. He watched his brother’s features contort into all the cruelty and the reasons Regulus had for not wanting to deal with him, and Regulus retreated to that deep chasm where he didn’t feel anything and he was safe from the words his brother sneered at him just then.

Regulus stared at his brother dispassionately, almost a considering look if it wasn’t for the dull way he gazed at Sirius. He almost told his brother to do it, to tell everyone what he did on the side, and see if he cared, because in all honesty, right at that moment, Regulus didn’t care one way or the other who knew. His current emotional monotone being the number one culprit for his indifference, and it was fueled by the firm belief that no one actually cared about him anyway, so why would a bit of knowledge change anything.

Still, Regulus knew, the only way out of this was through his brother. And it was time to get the worst of this over because this had been drawn out long enough. Turning back the way he came had never been an option, but Regulus took a step back and twisted towards that direction. He shrugged and spoke in the same empty way he had all day, “I was thinking more of that blood pumping out, rather than filling it with the usual, but you’re right, a motel would work much better for that. And…” he forced his features into appraisal, as if Sirius had sparked an idea, “hell, I might as well do both. No sense wasting a good product.”

Regulus let that sink in and braced himself for the negative fallout that was necessary to end this. And he marveled at how easy it had been for him to drop that particular bomb. It was time to be honest with himself and acknowledge, even with the false bravado and how he used it as a weapon against his brother to finally finish this confrontation than as an actual declaration of intent, it wasn’t as if it hadn’t been constantly on his mind since returning.

Sirius froze, letting the words echo through him for a long moment before they really resonated. Then it felt like the bottom had dropped out his stomach, while his heart had thrown away the shackles of his chest and had decided to do an impromptu lap of the street. He suddenly felt very cold. And then he didn’t know how to show what that felt like, was completely at a loss to do anything but stare at his brother as he turned his back.

But he couldn’t let him go. He couldn’t. And in his current emotional state Sirius didn’t have many weapons at his disposal. Sirius’ wand was in his hand, a flick accompanied with a silent jinx took Regulus’ feet out from under him. It wasn’t mature, was something he’d done to professors and his classmates when he was twelve. And almost immediately he regretted it, because the pavement was cold and hard and he had a sudden flashback of someone else sending Regulus crashing to the floor. A part of him wanted to run over, check he was alright. But his pride and remaining temper wouldn’t let him, so instead Sirius casually loped over to peer down on his brother, a faint smirk curling cruelly at the corners of his mouth. “Oops. Clumsy.”

He wanted to help him up. But that was impossible. A kind gesture now was impossible and they both knew it. He’d ruined it. And with that in mind Sirius felt like he might as well just… carry on. Why the fuck not? Perhaps he’d find it fun again. A part of him knew he wasn’t thinking straight, that this was just cruel and cold. But he was past caring.

“You see, Regulus,” Sirius let out a breath in a somewhat disappointed sigh and squatted down beside him. “Saying things like that is why I stopped being particularly keen on being your brother.” He cocked his head to try and force Regulus to meet his gaze, an eyebrow climbing. “It’s not a very nice thing to say now, is it?”

In almost graceful parallel with his body Regulus’ mind lurched from its perch on its carefully structured reality created from years of false notions and belief his brother would never do to him like She would have done. Walburga Black might never have been so juvenile to use a tripping curse on her own sons but harm as the result of an ill-aimed freezing charm or the like had been frequent and not all that shocking by the time they were old enough to enter Hogwarts. He knew instantly the tilting horizon had nothing to do with a misplaced foot, all the sensory signals cursing up his legs and to his brain were conspicuously lacking. This was his brother’s doing, and as much as his brain wanted to deny it, he knew it was the unfortunate truth.

But what had he been expecting? His reasoning had been the only way to the other side was through a fiery explosion. Honest? Still, part of him had held out hope Sirius wouldn’t actually hurt him.

Regulus had a second to think and thrust his arms forward with just enough time to bruise his elbows and wrists with the cold hard ground. The impact wasn’t wholly mitigated by his hands and his chin met unforgiving concrete and received a good scraping for its participation. He could taste blood and realized his teeth had found their own cushion in the insides of his lips, and his tongue prodded the torn edges as he collected himself enough to bring a knuckle up to test just how far the cut traveled across his mouth. Far enough that it would be visible if someone approached.

“Clumsy? Like that time She said we’d tumbled down the stairs when those unexpected guests arrived and she hadn’t time to order Kreacher to heal the cuts across our cheeks.” Their mother’s backhand was known to carry the threat of pronged gemstones set in precious metal rings.

“You ran once, Sirius, why ever did you stop?” That comment about not wanting to be his brother stung. Yes, he’d felt it, just a bit. That chasm was not providing the complete buffering affect Regulus had hoped for.

For one, brief moment fear flickered through him, he had no wand, no magical abilities, Sirius thankfully didn’t know that, but he was completely vulnerable. And yet Regulus made no move to get to his feet. His brother was still crouching over him and that meant this confrontation wasn’t over yet. Something else was needed to push everything over the edge. Regulus had been avoiding his brother’s gaze until now, when he looked directly at him, “You should have seen the look of pure satisfaction on her face when she burned you off that Tree.” Regulus had been hardly satisfied, and far from comforted by the act, but he’d been forced to watch none the less, Walburga couldn’t have her youngest son thinking along similar lines as her oldest.

Sirius felt sick. As if he wanted to crawl out of this disgusting shell of a body he found himself in, this mindset where he had nothing but anger and cruelty to show his emotions with. If there had been anyone else around he might have lashed out at them, and he would have felt a hell of a lot better about it as well. But there wasn’t anyone obviously close by, and Sirius had to hit out, had some inbuilt mechanism beaten into him which said that fighting back was the only way to deal with this. Somewhere, however, behind the anger still bubbling under his skin, he hated himself. But showing it would leave him open and vulnerable. It would make him weak. So he said nothing, just stared down on the other boy as his stomach lurched both at the sight of blood and the memory of their Mother’s excuses.

“Because I thought you might be different,” he replied sharply. Perhaps he’d been right, but there was something in that shared childhood which had pushed them apart, prevented them from being close to each other. Something that had started so long ago even he didn’t quite know what it was, around the time they’d both been ruined.

He didn’t know what he was expecting from Regulus, but it wasn’t his next words. And Sirius couldn’t stand the fact that those words touched a nerve, it made him sick the way his breath caught in his throat. He didn’t give a shit, he angrily berated himself. Hadn’t that been exactly what he wanted? That last night in that house had been the worst he could ever remember, when he reached the point where he’d been sure She’d kill him if he stayed another moment. A kind of hatred he hadn’t even been able to conceive before that night had made his skin crawl and itch as she screamed at him. He’d hated them all. So much he had been sure he’d go completely mad from the strength of it.

But for some reason, the idea of Regulus watching Her blast his name from the tree, probably with that same smug expression Sirius had seen on his face a hundred times before, tore right through him. A low growl uncoiled from the back of the older boys throat, his head once again filling with that red mist that blinded him to everything else.It had been a terrible day. He’d had the person he cared about most in the whole world stolen from him. James was gone, and Sirius felt so fucking lost without him. There didn’t seem to be anything grounding him without him here, and any regret he’d had for knocking his brother down, any good feeling that had grown in the last few weeks, any concern for the other boy, was completely drowned out by the boiling of hot blood in his veins and his racing heart. The mix of energy and magic that seemed to push on the inside of his skin and make him too big for his own flesh. Sirius finally let his infamous temper take control of him, and it felt surprising good. Freeing.

“Get up,” he hissed, pushing himself to his feet and taking a few heavy, angry strides back, wand still clenched in his hand. “Get up!” His voice wasn’t his own, it was deep and twisted and seemed to come from someone else entirely, its volume steadily rising with each word. “I should have left fucking sooner. You know what, Regulus? I wasn’t part of your revolting little family for years before that night. I didn’t give a shit what happened to you all then, and I sure as hell don’t now. You make me fucking sick. Now get up!” The last two words escaped in a snarl, and his fingers tightened painfully around his wand.

The words had the desired effect, this would be over shortly, and, Regulus thought, that wasn’t a bad thing. Which was a horrible and wrong thing to fixate on, but this whole exchange had been wrong from the start, why should any of the participants start acting rationally, especially in assessing the good and the bad from it all.

Regulus did not get up. He watched his brother rage. He felt terrible about telling him that about Her without context, without the most important part that something in Regulus had stopped that night when his brother left and he’d been forced to watch his mother, with that smile on her face, cast the spell that singed fabric and the last tentative connection Regulus had with his brother, despite Her knowing what Regulus felt. (Of course she knew, had always known. It was her, after all, that had started the wedge between them that would force them to grow apart, had aggravated the wound, and drove the foreign thing deep enough neither of them could extract the offending object.) But, Regulus reminded himself, his brother had started this present rending, he was just making sure the execution wasn’t botched leaving any painful connective strings between them.

He held his brother’s glare, noticing the wand and the imminent destruction mere moments away. He then dropped his eyes and turned his head, he didn’t focus on anything but allowed himself to check out. He couldn’t be mentally present for this.

"What the flying fuck is going on?"

Ariadne and Eames had been enjoying their walk back from work; they’d met up after her shift and were headed back, discussing their days. She may have teased him slightly about his glasses. They had hinted briefly at how strange it was to have Arthur back without any memories of his previous stay, and living in Ariadne’s apartment instead of with Eames.

She definitely hadn’t expected to have a perfectly pleasant afternoon interrupted by the spectacle of Sirius looming over a prostrate Regulus in the middle of the sidewalk. Or to see a look of rage twisting the elder Black’s features, fingers curled threateningly around his wand. Perhaps it was the shock of the situation that sent her running down the street. And the lack of experience with magic may have made her braver, skidding to a stop and hopping over Regulus to look up at Sirius with her hands on her hips and her eyebrows drawn together in a scowl. She presented an almost comical figure in her anger, a tiny tornado of fury that was ready to take on a much taller wizard with nothing but her bare hands and her sharp words.

Eames wasn’t too far behind Ariadne, only slower because he’d actually been cleaning his glasses when Ariadne noticed the scene up ahead and had fumbled slightly when shoving them into his jacket pocket. He’d had to go back into the college for a couple of hours, and he didn’t think too much about how he didn’t mind giving up his free time on a Saturday. He was clearly enjoying his job a lot more than he’d imagined, and it was somehow comforting to lose himself in Mr. Earnshaw every day for a few hours (and easier to not think about how Arthur was different in so many subtle ways). He usually allowed himself the walk home to ease out of the persona and stop acting like the man. The fumbling was all Art teacher, but he was completely gone by the time Eames started running.

Taking advantage of the distraction Ariadne was providing (and Eames didn’t find it comical in any way, to be honest), Eames stopped right sharpish behind Sirius and
wrapped his arms around the other man’s body, trapping his arms against his sides. “Drop the wand, Sirius. Now!” he snapped, and then tightened his grip just a bit more. Even if Sirius tried to change into a dog, he shouldn’t be able to get free. Hopefully.

But he still wasn’t moving. Why wasn’t he getting up? Sirius wanted Regulus to yell back, to fight him rather than just stay down there, looking so pathetic it only incensed him further. Then there was a small, furious figure blocking his view of his sibling and although Sirius’ furious gaze didn’t change, there was a faint shiver of surprise that trickled down his spine. Where had she come from? And suddenly strong arms were around him and a voice was snapping into his ear and Sirius acted on an impulse from another world, a world where people grabbing you and telling you to drop your wand could never end well.

He cast the revulsion jinx without considering it, and there was a flash of purple light and whoever was holding Sirius would feel an irresistible and inexplicable urge to let him go. Sirius stumbled free, face distorted angrily, wand raised as he spun to face... Eames.

“What the fuck?” Sirius snapped, dropping his wand for a moment. There was a split second of consideration, and then he found himself reluctantly pocketing it. Dark eyes, made even blacker by the fury boiling through his veins, flickered between Eames and Ariadne, and then fell back onto his brother, still curled on cold pavement. For now he wasn’t thinking of how Eames and Ariadne hadn’t seen him like this before, how his black temper was something he’d managed to keep mostly hidden from his new friends. He was thinking about Regulus, feeling his insides lurch over the emotion which was singing painfully through every nerve.

God, he hated him. Right at that moment Sirius hated him as much as he hated everything else in this fucking place. He was sure of it this time. That drumming of blood through his head was still deafening, and he had to clench his hands into fists to stop them shaking. A part of him, the part which had made him put the wand away, knew this was insane, that he wasn’t thinking straight and it would be wise of him to get out of here before he did something else he regretted. But the hot-headed, impulsive and fuming part of Sirius was a lot louder, and quickly drowned the other out.

“Get out the way,” he told Ariadne in a low voice, still peering over her to seek out the other Black.

Jesus, that was fucked up. That strange purple light, and then he was stepping back from Sirius who wound up pointing his wand at him? Fucking hell... Eames would never admit it, but when he saw how far gone Sirius actually was, he actually felt vaguely afraid. He had no real idea of what Sirius' magic was capable of, after all. Perhaps he should go and actually read those books, despite what he'd said.

At least Sirius had the presence of mind to put the thing away after that. Later, when he would have time to go over everything, Eames was sure he'd be as annoyed as Ariadne currently was. Right now, though, he was in that eerily calm space where he just did what was needed to get the job done. And what was needed was to move to stand in front of Ariadne, since Sirius was balling his fists and snarling at her. He had no doubts that Ariadne could, and would, take care of herself, but Sirius was clearly not himself right now and there was no telling what he would do.

Stepping in between his two friends, he crossed his arms and stared back at Sirius. He was much bigger than Ariadne, so he was probably blocking Sirius' view of his brother but he wasn't about to look round and check. "Just so you know, if you even think of touching Ariadne in this frame of mind, I will rip you a new arse in your neck. And then I'll let Arthur at what's left," he said in a deceptively calm voice. He took a step closer, trying to make sure all of Sirius' attention was on him. "Now, would you like to explain what's happening? I'm sure you have a perfectly good reason for threatening your obviously-unwell brother, who's currently in no fit state to defend himself from a fucking kitten, never mind your own good self."

Unlike Eames, Ariadne had read the books. And she knew the sort of things Sirius was capable of – not just how his magic worked, but also the sort of wild fury the wizard could sink into. She’d read about his encounter with Wormtail, after all. The seeds of that were clearly present here. Somehow she was still more angry than afraid, even as Eames was flung backwards and Sirius turned his glare onto her. It just made her even more angry, and she was ready to introduce her boots to his shins when Eames ducked in front of her.

Being protected in this way was probably unnecessary. But having backup was nice, and she knew Eames would also have no compunction about resorting to violence if Sirius made any further moves. “I don’t think there is a reason, Eames,” she said scornfully. “I think he’s just a bully.” Regulus still wasn’t moving behind her, and she’d check on him in a minute. That could wait till they were done here.

None of the Blacks were known for being very well balanced individuals. Probably some knock-on effect from a rather inbred family tree and the way they were all raised. Whatever the reason, sometimes Sirius was so like the worst members of his family he couldn’t even bear to face it. Right now, with dark eyes wild and raging and his fist clenched, his behaviour and emotions way out of his own control, he resembled his Mother and cousins so much he rather hated himself. But there would be time to dwell on that later. Or not. Perhaps he’d find a grotty pub and drink himself into the nice, warm darkness under the table.

“Yeah.” Sirius agreed with Ariadne, his gaze locked in some silent stand-off with Eames, who had blocked his attempts at reconnecting with the argument with his brother. The two men seemed stuck, staring into each other eyes, one pair furious and burning, the other calm but cold. Sirius nodded as he confirmed Ariadne’s accusation, happy to go with that because there was no way in hell he was telling them the details of the argument, the hurtful things that had been said and where it had all stemmed from. The brothers didn’t get on. As far as he was concerned, that was all they needed to know about the matter. They were both too fucked up and twisted to even attempt it, and he’d been mental to even think they could work this out. He wouldn’t be making that mistake again. James and Remus could go hang if they even thought he was going to try.

“That’s exactly it.” He told her, his gaze flickering sharply over Eames’ shoulder in some futile attempt to locate one of the others. He could move him, he thought, an oddly calm voice cutting through the chaotic turmoil in his head. He had his wand. Eames, despite everything, was a muggle. But he wouldn’t. These were his friends. Unlike the thing still curled on the pavement behind them, he cared about them. Sirius gave a wild, slightly manic bark of laughter, suddenly sweeping hair back from his forehead and lifting his voice a little to call back. “After all, bad blood will out. Right Regulus?”

Regulus did not answer. He remained stretched out on the ground, an unfocused look on his face, where he was oblivious to the arrival and intervention of Eames and Ariadne. Checked out. It was, he had found from long years of practice, an ideal way to handle abuse. Anything that happened to him, it was like it was happening to someone else. Later, upon examination, if he really wanted to that is, he could recall the details of everything. But he’d never really found a desire to do that. Let his brother say or do whatever he wanted, Regulus didn’t care. Not right now, and, it appeared, neither should he ever.

"For fuck's sake, Sirius." Ariadne sidestepped Eames so she could see the wizard, still glaring. "Calm down and stop acting like an asshole. And if you keep talking about bad blood I really will kick you in the shins." Yeah, she was still pissed. And yeah, she meant that. She turned away and crouched down next to Regulus, offering him a hand. "Regulus? Are you all right?" Obviously he wasn't, but she had to at least ask. This was ridiculous. She glanced back at Sirius with a scowl. "Are you done reenacting your family soap opera in public?"

Eames didn't look away from Sirius at all while Ariadne shouted at him and checked on Reg. If it came to it, he knew he could take the younger man in a fight, as long as magic didn't enter into it. He'd already experienced Sirius' skills, though, without the wizard even trying to use offensive magic, so Christ alone knew what he could do during a fight. It was only natural for anyone to use any advantages they had in a fight, after all, so it meant Eames would have to fight dirty and somehow get Sirius' wand away from him. It also meant watching every move he made, every glance to the side, any attempt to reach for his wand. Anything that would flag up an attempt at going for either of the other two. He really hoped it wouldn't come to that, though.

“Well? This is over, yes?” Eames asked as he uncrossed his arms and placed his hands on his hips. “Wait, asking is pointless. Ariadne, do you think you can get Reg home on your own, or do you need help? Otherwise, I think it’s time Sirius and I went somewhere for a little chat. Don’t you?” That last bit was clearly aimed at Sirius himself.

Until Ariadne’s hand passed into Regulus’ line of sight he remained unaware that anyone else was present. He stared at that hand for a good number of minutes before it registered that it was being proffered to him, to assist him and not harm him. His eyes fixed on Ariadne’s for the first time, and confusion clouded his face. When had she shown up and where was the all but promised punishment from his brother? As if heard through a thick haze he could vaguely make out someone speaking, not Sirius, about leaving, and it was spoken with such command he didn’t have much of an argument against the directive.

Moving for the first time since accepting the reality Sirius was going to curse him Regulus grasped the hand and pulled himself up.

From there, it was more confusion. Eames stood between him and Sirius. His brother looked no less dangerous and angry, and yet Eames maintained his ground. Someone should warn Eames, Regulus thought, Sirius had a wand and he would use it. But Regulus’ throat was closed, his voice silent, it wouldn’t be him that sounded the warning. Instead he sought out the person still holding his hand, or he was still holding hers. She had pulled him to his feet; she probably knew what to do next and her direction was as good as any at this point.

Sirius was used to people shouting at him, and when Ariadne turned on him, her voice way too loud for such a small girl, he stared back. His hand twitched, and once again he brought it up to his hair, tugging and pulling at dark strands, swiping the back of his wrist across his lips in some kind of agitated fidget. All of his excessive energy, every last hyperactive, pulsing nerve in his body seemed to be on fire with the same consuming anger. He was pretty sure he was shaking, would shake right out of himself if he wasn’t careful. But then Sirius didn’t do anything gently. Regulus himself had once questioned whether he could do anything half-arsed at all. Even when losing his temper, he took it to an extreme.

Sirius glared at Ariadne as she turned back to Regulus, his gaze cold and dangerous even as his body twitched. Thinking was too much effort when he was in this state, running on pure adrenaline and a mind already vulnerable to fracturing. His thoughts were chaotic, crashing together like drums inside his skull so it was easier to just ignore them. Sirius was running on the raw, basic, angry instinct that was burning in his chest, and it was a moment before he could tear his dangerous stare from where it had been fixed on the boy climbing to his feet and instead glance back at Eames.

“Sounds delightful,” he managed, in a voice that was too quiet and too low to match what was going on right now. Then he was back to glaring at Regulus, a sneer making his upper lip curl as he stared across at the figure holding onto Ariadne, complete with his bloody lip and chin. “You,” he snarled. “You do whatever the fuck you want. Just stay away from me.”

Regulus's hollow stare down at Ariadne nearly broke the girl's heart, and she wrapped her fingers around his hand more firmly in response. How could Sirius treat his own brother like this? It was beyond her comprehension. She turned her gaze back on the elder brother and just shook her head slowly. "I kind of don't think that's going to be a problem." Her anger had settled down into a cold fury laid over disappointment; she'd always been closer to Sirius than his brother, but this sort of behavior might be too much for their friendship to sustain. "I thought you were better than this," she told him, before turning and leading Regulus across the street before continuing towards the apartment buildings. Passing Sirius on the sidewalk seemed like it would only have provoked him out of the tenuous calm that she and Eames had managed to achieve.

"I'll see you later, sweetheart," Eames said as she left with Reg, then he was back to paying all of his attention to Sirius.

"We're going this way," and he reached over to grab Sirius' upper left arm, tight enough to probably leave bruises, before walking the pair of them in the opposite direction to the one Ariadne and Reg had taken, "and please don't even try to argue or get away. Right now, I couldn't give a rattling fuck who or what started that charming display, but you're going to calm down before you kill someone with that stupid bloody stick of yours. And if you ever point it at me in anger again, I'll snap the fucking thing in half and burn the bits, do you understand?"

They had reached a junction at that point, and so it was a simple matter of Eames deciding that they should take the right turn, which meant he needed to take a hold of Sirius' other arm. That meant walking behind the still-seething wizard, and it was all too easy for Eames to lift the wand from Sirius' pocket. For safe keeping, of course. He'd give it back when the younger man wasn't in danger of lopping people's heads off with a few words and a flick of his wrist, or whatever the fuck wizards did in fights.