Work Text:
The castle was colder now that the weather was starting to turn from autumn to winter, the chill seeping into Regulus’s bones with each step he took. He tugged his robes tighter around himself, trying to hold in whatever heat he could as he cautiously made his way through the maze-like passages, the corridors dim and drafty since the sun had gone down.
He had to tread carefully.
Sneaking past the Slytherin Prefects outside the common room had been the hardest part of the night, though he’d done it so many times over the past four years at Hogwarts, that he could do it in his sleep. Still, the other Prefects' footsteps and animated voices echoed through the deserted halls, indicating that they would be on patrol for a few more hours, and Regulus knew he’d have to continue to be careful.
It was his third night in a row roaming around Hogwarts in the wee hours, his insomnia refusing to grant him even a moment’s peace. The weight of his thoughts were heavier than the shadows that danced along the stone walls. Ever since returning to school for his sixth year, something had felt off about Sirius.
Normally full of life and mischief, Sirius had been eerily subdued throughout the summer holiday, and it had only gotten worse as the days passed. All summer, Regulus hadn’t been able to shake the feeling of unease that gnawed at him, watching as Sirius shut himself off from the world, his once vibrant personality fading into a mere shadow of its former self. He hadn’t acted out, hadn’t antagonized Walburga or Orion into their usual, unnecessarily cruel punishments. He hadn't bothered to protest the arranged-marriage dinners and socialite events to meet acceptable young ladies that their parents had forced him to attend. Moreover, Sirius had refrained from his usual dramatic rants and daring escapades. He hadn’t even snuck out to Potter’s all summer, as if he had resigned himself to their parent’s expectations.
That resignation, which had dulled his brother’s bright silver eyes into an unrecognizable grey, unsettled Regulus to his core.
Set his teeth on edge.
Sirius had started to push him away the moment Regulus had been sorted into Slytherin House. Had let distance grow between them the moment Regulus had begun to adopt the facade of “the perfect Black heir” to shield himself (and Sirius too, though his older brother was loath to admit it) from the worst of their mother’s wrath. But Regulus couldn’t—wouldn’t—allow Sirius to sever their bond completely, not when their shared history ran so deep.
He recalled countless instances when Sirius had taken his punishments, when Sirius would eat his food for him while their mother wasn’t looking, when Sirius orchestrated impromptu dance parties to drown out their parents' weighty expectations. He remembered the tender moments too. The adventures that inadvertently got him out of the house after he’d displeased their mother, the whispered conversations under the cover of night, pressed close to each other and clinging to the only other person they could trust in the world. The numerous occasions Sirius would gently run his wand over Regulus’s arms to heal the self-inflicted cuts with silent spells he’d learned too young.
Sirius had always been the solid rock that Regulus could cling to in the tempest of their dysfunctional family, offering nothing but unwavering strength and protection and love. And Regulus was determined to become the beacon of support Sirius had always been for him, even if it meant sacrificing his own happiness in the process.
He had to return the favor.
After all, Regulus Black always repaid his debts.
As he wandered aimlessly through the castle corridors, lost in thought, Regulus stumbled upon a door he had never noticed before. He’d read several books about Hogwarts and its many hidden passages and rooms. The door in front of him led to The Room of Requirement, something in the back of his mind told him, a place that could provide whatever he needed most.
Intrigued, he pushed open the door and stepped inside.
He almost thought the room was unoccupied. But then he spotted Sirius leaning against the wall, sitting cross-legged on the cold stone floor with a record player beside him. He seemed smaller than usual, his normally vibrant presence diminished by the weight of his solitude. The dim light of the bare room cast long shadows across his features, accentuating the lines of weariness etched into his face. Strains of music filled the air, wrapping around him like a shroud of sorrow.
It’s the vertical hold all the things that you’re told
For the everyday hero it all turns to zero
And there's all the more reason
For living or dying when you’re young
And your troubles are all very small
Regulus recognized the crooning tones of Freddie Mercury from some of the muggle music Sirius used to blast from his room when he came home from Hogwarts, but he hadn’t heard it all summer. The melancholic melody of this new song reverberated off the stone walls, weaving a somber tapestry of loneliness and longing in the empty space, punctuated only by the eerie crackling of the small fire in the fireplace to the left.
A small cake, decorated with Gryffindor pride, and three vibrant red and gold flower crowns lay discarded to Sirius’s right, their bright colors stark against the muted hues of the room. They seemed out of place amidst the desolation that surrounded him, a poignant reminder of happier times. Sirius wore a matching crown twisted through his hair, the locks shorn off by their mother on the first day of summer and left to grow naturally, a departure from his usual practice of magically regrowing them upon returning to Hogwarts.
Regulus’s heart clenched at the solitary sight of his brother, sitting alone in the vast expanse of the room. Sirius hastily wiped his eyes, but he saw through the facade of indifference. Regulus wasn’t like the idiot hangers-on that surrounded his brother like his own personal fan-club, which meant he noticed the subtle tremor in Sirius’s hands, the tightness in his jaw, the hollow look in his eyes which were bright with unshed tears.
His brother’s heart seemed to be breaking right in front of him.
The song started again, indicating that the record player had likely been enchanted to replay the same somber tune over and over. Sirius could be so dramatic, sometimes. Leaning into his own sadness like it would help take the sting out of whatever had caused him pain.
“Sirius,” Regulus called, his voice too loud over the music, breaking the soft, lonely quiet of the room.
Sirius looked up, surprise flickering across his features before he schooled his expression into one of forced nonchalance.
“Reggie,” he greeted, his voice strained. “What’re you doing here?”
Regulus stepped closer to his older brother. “Why’re you by yourself?” He stopped when Sirius flinched as if he’d been hit.
Regulus observed his brother, noting the slump of his shoulders, evidence of some heavy burden that seemed to weigh him down. What could’ve prompted Sirius to isolate himself, listening to sad music on repeat? He couldn’t simply stand by and watch while Sirius suffered in silence. But where were his brother’s friends?
It was a question that had been nagging at Regulus since August.
Regulus hadn’t seen Sirius with them in the halls between classes or roaming the grounds during free moments for the past month. At mealtimes, he was often missing, arriving early or late enough to avoid his usual group of quidditch players and overachievers. Something must’ve happened between him and his friends, but Regulus couldn’t fathom what it might’ve been. To his knowledge, Potter, Pettigrew, and Lupin cherished Sirius like a brother. And as his actual brother, there was nothing Sirius could have done that would keep Regulus from his side, especially if Sirius was going through…whatever it was he was going through.
“Is everything alright, Siri?” Regulus asked, the nickname slipping from his lips as his brother avoided his gaze, his voice filled with genuine concern.
“It’s my birthday tomorrow,” Sirius confessed, hiding a sniffle behind a hand and turning away from Regulus.
“Yeah, and?” Regulus responded, his tone edged with curiosity. He had already planned to extend an invitation to Sirius for a birthday tea, a tradition initiated by Bellatrix during their childhood—a rare Black family practice that Regulus actually liked.
Sirius huffed and pulled his flower crown off his head, tossing it into the fire where it was immediately engulfed in flames. “And,” he paused, took a breath, and looked up at Regulus as a single tear rolled down a sharp cheekbone, “they know that. Moony and James.” Sirius cleared his throat and it sounded like he was being strangled. “Wormy. They all know my birthday’s tomorrow.” His breath stuttered in his chest. “It’s tradition that we meet the night before and have a small party. Just the four of us, before we get the rest of the Gryffindors involved.”
“But…they didn’t come.” It wasn’t a question because it was clear in Sirius’s pity party that no one had shown. “Maybe their invitations disappeared?”
Sirius laughed, the sound hollow and devoid of any genuine mirth. “We don’t send letters for this," he remarked sharply, shooting a pointed glare at Regulus, who simply shrugged off the sting of the look. Sirius was clearly in pain, lashing out without real intent to hurt him. “We’re normal.” The unlike you, went unsaid.
Regulus bristled.
He felt Sirius’s unsaid words like a sharp arrow aimed at his heart. Sirius had never seemed to mind his differences before. Not until he’d run off to make friends and left Regulus to pick up the pieces of the life he’d pushed off on him by shirking his duties as heir to the Most Ancient and Noble House of Black. It was a bitter reminder of how much had changed since Sirius had found his circle of friends, leaving Regulus to navigate the complexities of their family. Alone.
“Okay, Sirius. Then why the hell isn’t anyone here?” he demanded, his frustration bubbling to the surface.
Sirius shrugged and hugged himself, arms wrapped tightly around his middle, seeking comfort from within. The way he used to soothe himself when Walburga had body-bound Regulus so he couldn’t console Sirius, help heal his wounds, or break the curses she’d laid on him. The way he still soothed himself when she was making him an example to Regulus.
“I don’t–I don’t know, Reg,” Sirius said as more tears fell. He had never seen his brother so…utterly lost. “Just…just tell me what to do to make it all f-feel better.”
“I can’t help you if you don’t tell me what happened, Siri,” Regulus gently coaxed, his voice soft with concern.
He reached out, drawing Sirius into a tight embrace, and to his surprise, his brother went willingly. His tense frame relaxed in his arms and he buried his face in Regulus’s neck. It was a rare vulnerability that Sirius hadn’t shown since Regulus had been sorted into Slytherin, since Regulus began taking on the duties of the Black heir.
“Maybe it’s all a cruel joke on me,” Sirius muttered, more to himself than anyone else. His voice was heavy with self-deprecation.
Regulus pulled back, rage licking down his spine at the thought. “Why the fuck would they prank you like this?”
He knew that his voice crackled with intensity, that his eyes flashed with indignation. But he couldn’t contain his anger any longer and his jaw clenched with fury at the mere suggestion that Sirius’s so-called friends could bring themselves to hurt him in such a way.
It was unfathomable. That they could treat him in such a callous manner.
They were supposed to be different from their horrible mother, supposed to love and protect Sirius, to care for him in ways their own parents never had.
The secondhand betrayal burned deep within him, igniting a fierce resolve to uncover the truth and confront those responsible for hurting his brother.
How dare they?
How dare they!
Hurt Sirius?!
Sirius, who’d left one hell, only to find himself in a similar one.
Regulus fumed. “I’ll fucking kill them!” His hand clenched into a fist.
Sirius seemed to shake himself from his stupor and scooted away from Regulus. “Whatever. It doesn’t matter, Reggie,” he said, his voice strained.
Sirius sighed and wiped his eyes, each sniffle stirring up a storm of frustration within Regulus. The sight of his brother in tears fueled his outrage, each hot drop a reminder of the pain Sirius had endured for far too long. The memory of their mother’s cruelty flashed through his mind, the echoes of Sirius’s cries haunting him still, even if the past summer had been relatively tame for Walburga.
The first time he had ever seen his brother cry, Regulus had been nine, and Sirius had tried to run away with him because he’d just gotten his letter from Hogwarts and hadn’t wanted to abandon Regulus to their mother’s mercy. When Kreacher forced them back home, their mother had laid hands on Regulus for the first time, though it wouldn’t be the last. Sirius had sobbed like he’d been the one hit, and because of that brief moment of solidarity, their mother had unleashed the Cruciatus curse on Sirius. She’d made Regulus watch. As a warning.
Sirius had always been the one to shield him from harm, to bear the brunt of their mother’s wrath alone. He’d never cried for himself, as far as Regulus knew, and the fact that he was so broken now?
Regulus wanted to watch the world burn.
He made a silent promise to his brother to get back at those “friends” of his. Even though he hadn’t the foggiest as to the reason for their falling out, nothing could be worth their treatment of Sirius. So he vowed to get payback, hex them so they’d learn their lesson in messing with one of the Black brothers.
"Just means there's more cake for us," Sirius muttered weakly, attempting to lighten the mood with a feeble joke. But Regulus could see past the facade, could feel the weight of Sirius’s pain pressing down on them both like a suffocating blanket.
“Siri, I don’t think—”
“Yeah. Of course,” Sirius replied with a rueful shake of his head, wiping his eyes before flashing Regulus the saddest smile he’d ever seen. “I made these for my friends.” He pointed at the flower crowns. “Do you want one? Or all of them?” His laughter, a choked, pained sound, hung in the air, more bitter than joyful. Regulus almost declined, but the smile on his brother’s face was a fragile thing and he eventually relented.
“Sure, as long as you change the colors,” he joked.
Sirius beamed at him, his wand dancing gracefully over the flower crown until it morphed into silver and green leaves. With a gentle touch, Sirius settled it onto Regulus’s head.
“There. You look like a fairy prince,” Sirius remarked, a spark of his old self lighting up his eyes into their usual silver brilliance.
Regulus snorted. “You need one too.”
As Sirius placed one of the remaining red and gold flower crowns onto his own head, Regulus couldn’t help but smile at the sight. The vibrant colors clashed with the drab grey of the room and the dark clothes his brother was wearing, yet somehow, it seemed fitting. He was smiling again, genuine and light, and that’s all that mattered in that moment.
Sirius shot him a funny look, striking a pose that tossed the crown on his head askew. With a soft chuckle, Regulus reached out and adjusted the crown on Sirius’s head, ensuring it sat just right. He then used a silent spell to charm Sirius’s hair back to the length he knew his brother loved. It was a small gesture, but one that lit his brother’s smile into its usual radiance.
“There. Now you look like a king,” he said, his tone warmer than it’d been towards Sirius in several years.
Sirius laughed, the sound brighter than it had been in weeks. “King of what, exactly?”
Regulus shrugged. “King of hearts, maybe.” Sirius snorted out a laugh and Regulus rolled his eyes. “Or the king of mischief, as usual.”
Sirius grinned at the playful jab, and for a moment, it felt like old times again—before the rift between them had grown too wide, before Sirius had distanced himself from his past. From Regulus.
For a moment, with Sirius’s laughter filling the air, Regulus dared to hope that maybe, just maybe, they could find their way back to each other.
Maybe things would work out for them.
Maybe they wouldn’t find themselves on opposite sides of a war that was brewing. A war that was slowly dragging their parents in. A war that their parents were pressuring Regulus to join.
Walburga was angling for Regulus to take the Dark Mark, but he still had time to figure it all out. He still had time to devise a plan to keep himself and Sirius safe. He still had time.
Because he would protect him. He’d repay Sirius for all the times Sirius had saved him.
Afterall, Regulus Black always repaid his debts.
“Thanks, Reggie,” Sirius said softly, as he snuggled under Regulus’s arm, his voice laced with warmth.
Regulus forced a grimace, because he was a younger brother, and that’s what younger brother’s did. But he couldn’t hide the genuine love in his eyes as he pulled his brother close. “Anytime, Siri.”
As they sat there, counting down the moments until midnight, when Sirius would officially turn one year older, Regulus understood that no matter the obstacles that awaited them, they would confront them together. They weren’t just brothers by blood, but companions unbreakably bound together by love and loyalty, capable of enduring even the darkest of storms. Sirius was his brother, his other half, and for him, Regulus was willing to go to the ends of the earth and beyond. He would set the world ablaze if it meant keeping Sirius safe, whole, happy.
It was this unwavering commitment that he clung to as he delved deeper into the treacherous heart of Voldemort's organization, his secret mission to shield himself and his brother tucked securely against his pounding heart. This resolve would steady his nerves as he bore the Dark Mark, as he committed his first murder, as he continued to execute Voldemort's malevolent commands. It would provide solace as he uncovered the Dark Lord's vulnerabilities. And when Sirius all but disowned him for “picking the wrong side,” Regulus would repeat his conviction over and over until he could sleep at night, lulled into nightmares by his self-appointed task.
Even as the frigid embrace of the Inferi dragged him into the icy depths, and his lungs filled with water, it would be this resolute determination that he held onto until his very last breath.