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The few weeks after he left, the house was still and silent, which was not unusual by itself, but there was a different sort of quiet in the halls of Grimmauld Place now. The silence was no longer punctuated by his mothers' screams at Sirius's latest insult to their family name, or with the sharp crack of a curse. The horrific muggle posters on his walls couldn't be removed, as Mother discovered rather quickly, and with great dismay.
The oddly dressed men continued to stretch languidly and the voluptuous women continued to flash their long legs, and would probably do so for eternity, Regulus thought quietly.
He had spent the rest of the summer holed up in his bedroom, trying to avoid the endless dinner parties, brunches and luncheons his mother hosted, and their unsavoury guests. He can't remember when began to fear their presence and endless mocking questions. Bellatrix's beetle black eyes shone with a cruel light every time she inquired about the state of his bare forearm, and his Mothers' unquestioning belief in Regulus's compliance was beginning to grind his mangled heart into dust. Hot, sweltering nights were spent tangled up in his sheets, fractious and itching, guilt trying to crawl up his throat while loss made it's home in his ribcage. Making his way past the looming door of his brothers room felt like walking past a corpse, the remains of someone's entire life contained within four walls, the past abandoned, present uninhabitable and future uncertain.
He made his way to Kings Cross alone, brushing off Kreacher's fretting and stepped out onto the bustling platform. Steam billowed out from the train in heavy plumes, obscuring the faces of the crowd and turning the station into an impression of one, the students around him unsubstantial and false. The train let off a high whistle and Regulus pushed his shoulders back and walked calmly through the harried crowd.
In the back of his mind he couldn't quite help picturing Sirius, dressed in some atrocious muggle style, surrounded by Potter and the rest, laughing with the easy air of someone who knew, deep in their heart that they were never going back. The train screeched again, breaking him out of his pathetic daydreams and Regulus stepped onto the Hogwarts Express, trunk floating behind him.
He made his way down the wooden panelled corridor, chin high and eyes cold. The dark mahogany of the corridor had been polished to a shine, and the early morning sunlight created small spots of light that wavered with every jolt of the train. Disoriented, Regulus leaned against the wall for a moment, and rubbed his eyes. A second. That's all he would take. The night before his Mother had invited the Malfoys for a dinner party, and as the only remaining Black heir, he was to stay up into the late hours of the morning, as the never ending champagne and salmon canapes continued to appear.
Very little actual eating seemed to go on at these parties, and Regulus himself only manged a few wary bites of some garlic drenched potatoes before the sound of Malfoys voice, high and cold , made his stomach roll in protest. He had made his excuses and returned upstairs, but the sound of Bellatrix's laughter filtered up through his floorboards and kept him from sleep. The lights dancing on the corridor walls seemed to mimic the candlelight that had lit the faces of his relatives, as their hollow mouths spewed cruel diatribe, black and crawling onto the monogrammed napkins Kreacher had lovingly embroidered. His head throbbed sharply.
However, the spell passed as they always did, and Regulus continued down the train, past sniggering third years and snogging sixth years until he came across an empty compartment. He was in no mood to entertain Crouch and Avery at the moment, and he placed a locking charm over the door, then pulled the blinds over the window shut. He rested his head against the cool glass, condensation dampening his dark curls. Regulus curled up under his travelling cloak and let the rhythmic motions of the Hogwarts express lull him to sleep. He knew from past experience that he would jolt awake when the reached York, or if he was really exhausted, Carlisle.
As predicted, Regulus woke up as soon as the train passed the border into Scotland, and stretched out the crick in his neck. The sconces were lit, and the sky outside had darkened considerably. He could make out rolling hills and a few trees, but everything else was obscured by the reflection of his gaunt face. No one had tried to enter while he had slept, and the quiet peace of the upholstered compartment was undisturbed.
Regulus stood, and with the intention of visiting the bathroom began to make his way down the train. People had calmed down now, several hours into the journey and the corridor was practically deserted, apart from Marlene McKinnon, who was now a Prefect, according to the gleaming badge on her chest.
He wondered who else had been made one-Lupin? Certainly not Potter or-. Regulus shut down that train of thought quickly as McKinnon glanced at him, distaste evident in her eyes. Not that Regulus was surprised. He was sure Sirius had told every one of his fellow Gryffindor's about his cowardly little brother during the re-telling of his daring escape. An ugly feeling grew in Regulus' chest, and he could feel it crawling over his lungs like ivy or perhaps wisteria, strangling his breath and blooming red and angry. He brushed past McKinnon and continued down the train until he stopped in his tracks, staring through a glass door.
Sirius was bruised and smiling in the dusty afternoon sunlight of the train compartment. It was the first time Regulus had seen him since that night, when he had been covered in blood and limped out the door and into the dark. Regulus had thought his wounds might never heal, after all, his own hadn't. Regulus didn't have anyone he could run to for help, he thought with anger.
Why couldn't Sirius just understand ? He wasn't like him, he didn't know how to turn the horror, and deep, crawling fear into rage and determination. Regulus didn't have the gall, the sheer courage and nerve to cross the precipice. Loving his brother was like loving a star, burning and bright. Without him, Regulus fell into shadow as easily as falling asleep.
Sirius' dark hair was mussed and fell about his shoulders in a mess of shining waves. His red tie was undone and a pair of heavy muggle boots were lying on Lupins lap, who looked exasperated, but happy, the corner of his scarred mouth twitching into something resembling a smile. They were golden in the light of the sconces, the dark sky outside creating a bubble of warmth.
It was like looking at a memory, or perhaps a dream of something Regulus knew he could never have. He felt a swell of anger as he noticed Potters' arm, slung over Sirius' shoulder with a casualness that made his chest sting. The plush seats were a mess of chocolate frog wrappers, gangly limbs and bony ankles poking out of too short trousers that suggested a sharp growth over the summer. Regulus breathed out and clenched his fists. He was fine. Everything was fine. Regulus stopped in front of their compartment door and looked at Sirius pleadingly. If he could just get a chance to explain, to tell Sirius about the guilt gnawing at his ribs, the fear that kept him awake at night, gnawing on his upper lip. Perhaps it wasn't too late.
There was a moment of silence as Potter glanced between them, a furrow on his perfect brown brow.
He spoke cautiously. "Sirius, hold on-"
Sirius shrugged off Potters' arm and Lupins warning look, and stepped out into the corridor, his boots shaking the carpeted floor. The two brothers stared at each other, the only sound the gentle rumbling of the train as it rolled across the Scottish countryside. Sirius looked angry, but most of all he looked tired, Regulus thought. The skin under his left eye was beginning to turn yellow, and there were only traces of the morbid purple it had been when his brother had ran out onto the rainy streets of London.
"Well ?" Sirius snapped, his voice almost shaking. "Anything to say, Reggie ?"
He spat the last word, a small voice at the back of Regulus's head remarked, and the biting remarks he had been about to retaliate with seemed childish now .What on earth was he supposed to say? What could possibly fix the gaping hole that had appeared between them, the abyss seemed miles wide, endless in its depth and gravity.
"I-"
"Don't bother. I've already had several of our dear Mothers' howlers, I don't need to be reminded about my current position on the fucking family tree" Sirius spat, incandescent with fury, his eyes dark with hurt and rage, and Regulus knew then, that any stuttering questions asking about his plans for next summer would be met with at best, his scathing tongue, or worse a punch. He swallowed, and spoke haltingly.
"I'm sorry."
Sirius paused, shocked out of his seething anger for a moment.
"What?"
"I shouldn't have just-just stood there, I know and I- I'm sorry I didn't have the courage."
Some things you just can't speak about he thought, but Regulus had to now. He had to make Sirius understand. He had to try and fix this.
"I thought that there was no point in- well, I thought there was nowhere to escape too, so why bother ?" Regulus whispered, and raised his head to meet his brothers wide eyes. "But you, well you found somewhere, and I-"
It was here Regulus paused. What to say ? That he was glad Sirius had managed to garner love from people who cared about more than his surname? That he was glad he'd found someone like Potter, recklessly and endlessly kind? Deep down Regulus still felt a seed of resentment towards him. Golden Potter, who's name had tripped of of Sirius' tongue the entire summer after first year. The summer when Sirius didn't have time for his baby brother, when the distance between them had began to grow, first a crack. As the years passed it swelled into a seemingly insurmountable sea, that only deepened when Regulus was sorted into Slytherin.
"Reg."
Sirius interrupted his spiralling thoughts, and shifted uncomfortably from one foot to the other. He no longer looked like he wanted to eviscerate Regulus and the ground he stood on, which was a slight improvement. His elder brother brushed a hand through his hair and let out a tense sigh.
"Reg, I don't know what I'm supposed to say." He grimaced. "Why did you just-just stay silent?"
"I-"
"You always stayed silent," Sirius continued. "This one time, If you had just said something, god anything !" Sirius croaked. "Instead of just, just standing there trying to blend into the fucking wallpaper, then I-"
"Please, Sirius, I couldn't, I just-." Regulus answered desperately, his fists clenched. His eyes were wild and full of a painful hope that he couldn't stifle. "You were always the brave one, alright ? You didn't lie awake at night listening to her footsteps as she paced, you didn't have to play the perfect son and attend those endless meetings-"
"Meetings?" Sirius interjected quickly, a dark look shadowing his face. "You actually went to them?"
Shit.
"No, I-"
Sirius' hand shot out, quick as a viper and yanked Regulus' shirt sleeve up, revealing his pale, bare forearm.
"Thanks Merlin" He breathed, a look of relief evident in his grey eyes.
"You can let go of my arm now." Regulus said sharply. His brother released his tight grip awkwardly, and Regulus took a moment to smooth his crumpled sleeve down, and to take a few breaths. Sirius twitched his hand, like he wanted to reach out.
"So, they aren't making you-"
"Not yet"
His brother looked conflicted and he was biting his lip. He glanced into the compartment, where Potter and Lupin were failing at pretending not to eavesdrop.
"Look, I'm not promising anything, but this summer, if you needed, you could come home with James and me-"
Regulus started in shock. Was Sirius serious? He must have gone mad. There was no way he wanted to crack open the tightly knit group that had been exclusive since first year, for Regulus. There was no future in which he pictured himself sitting in that compartment with Lupin, sharing news about their summers.
"Are you having a laugh?"
Sirius surged forward and placed a hand on Regulus's shoulder, pale and long fingered. The twisting ivy that had curled itself around Regulus' ribs began to loosen its grip, and he took a deep breath.
"Sirius, I don't want to force you ask Potter to host-"
"He'd be fine with it" Sirius interrupted. "So would Effie, I promise." He clenched Regulus' shoulder tightly. "If you need to, you can come."
The corridor lapsed into stunned silence, as Regulus tried to stutter his thanks, or polite refusal. He hadn't quite decided yet. Sirius leaned in and gave him an awkward,one armed hug. His long hair fell into Regulus' eyes, and he stiffened as the smell of Sirius suffused the air around him. It reminded Regulus' of the days before Hogwarts, when it was the two of them, alone in Grimmauld place, darting down the twisting hallways, and hiding under antique tables, making forts with his Mothers old shawls. His childhood seemed so small, composed of quiet, golden moment like those.
Warm autumn sunlight filtering through deep purple and red scarves, and lighting up their faces as the two of them whispered secrets to each other, illuminated in hazy vermillion, dust motes floating through the air. Sirius's hair blocked out the outside world for a moment, echoing that October afternoon years past, and time stretched out, suddenly elastic and malleable, a moment, or a memory repeated again and again and again and Regulus thought, this, this is all that matters.