Title: "Slumbering Souls" or alternatively "Valentine"
Summary: When Regulus Black died, a significant portion of his soul was preserved in an old family photo.
Author's Notes: Happy Valentine's Day everyone, here's your present! This may be the first time I've ever uploaded a holiday fic sooner than two months after the actual holiday! Holy Christ, I'm never this ahead of things!
When Sirius Black returned to Number 12 Grimmauld Place in 1995, it was near three in the morning and the ink-dark sky was throwing down an unusually hot rain. He almost couldn't convince himself to push open the heavy, grey door.
The frigid atmosphere inside the house was a shock to Sirius's system. He lit the entryway and basement kitchen as well as he could, and then began to search for the problem. Lodged in a closet down the hall, he found the control box for the air-cooling system. It was turned on fully. Sirius sighed and switched it off. Immediately the house started to warm up as heat from outside leaked in through its walls. Sirius supposed Kreacher had turned the cold air on some time ago, but had been too short to reach the 'off' lever.
That got Sirius thinking. "Kreacher?" he called cautiously. "Are you still alive somewhere in here?"
Sirius got no verbal response, but heard a frantic scuttling from the kitchen. He approached the noise in time to see the door to the boiler room swing shut.
"So that's a yes," Sirius said with a depressed sigh.
He knew he would be unable to sleep for quite some time, if at all, and Order members were due in the morning. He decided to start on the cleaning. He was self-conscious of all the dust, grime, and dark artefacts that littered every surface of his old home.
He was midway through blasting grime off the walls when he woke his mother's portrait.
Walburga Black did not seem shocked to see him.
"I knew you'd be back eventually," she said coldly. "Now that my Regulus is gone and the house is yours. I suppose you've come to sell all my treasures? Destroy everything else you don't like looking at…"
"Shut up, Mother," Sirius grumbled, reaching for the mothy curtains. He shut them over her livid face, hoping the darkness would put her back to sleep.
Her final words came out in a strained whisper. "Kreacher," she pined. "The camera. Bring Master the camera again…my little Reggie."
The last line was so soft Sirius hardly heard it. He wondered how crazy his mother's portrait had become—she had never called his brother anything other than Regulus during life, even when he'd been a baby.
As though he'd been expecting the command, Kreacher shuffled into the entryway a moment later, a dented old Polaroid in his wrinkled hands, which he held out shakily towards the wall.
"What is that, Kreacher?" Sirius demanded.
Kreacher bared his teeth, obviously furious that he could not refuse a direct question from Sirius. "Master Regulus's camera," he answered.
"Regulus had a dozen of these old things," Sirius snipped. "Bloody idiot always figured he'd be some kind of photographer. Dad always told him to get his head back down here in reality, and Mum…" Sirius trailed off, shaking his head. What did any of that matter now? Regulus had gotten himself killed fifteen years ago.
Sirius reached for the camera, but Kreacher drew it tight to his chest, muttering furiously.
"Fuck, Kreacher, I said Regulus had a million cameras, what's so special about this one?"
Kreacher shook his unsightly head, making his ears flap furiously like featherless bird wings. "Master Regulus loved this camera best. It was a present. He is inside it."
Sirius pried the camera from Kreacher's grasp and examined it in the weak light of the hallway. Behind him, his mother's portrait was still making shuffling sounds, as though Walburga was skittering around the corners of her frame, trying to look out beyond the curtains.
"Oh that's right," Sirius murmured fondly. The back of the camera was embossed with fading silver letters that read To Regulus From Sirius. "I gave him this one when he started school…what do you mean he's in it?"
Kreacher glared.
"Master Regulus told Kreacher that when he died, he would return to his favorite camera. He had Kreacher take a picture of Master just before he left…"
Sirius's brow creased. "Did my brother know he was going to die, Kreacher?"
Kreacher didn't say anything, but his expression was all Sirius needed to gather his answer.
Sirius felt a sudden dropping sensation in his stomach. Had his Regulus walked willingly to his death? How scared he must have been…
Suddenly, Kreacher started crying. "Master Regulus said he would be in that last picture that Kreacher took, and that Kreacher could see him if he made the camera print the photo, but Kreacher cannot. The camera is broken! Master Walburga and Kreacher tried for so long to make it work, but then Master died as well and…and…"
Sirius left Kreacher in mid-sentence. He walked, trance-like, up the stairs. He stopped before his bedroom door. Going inside didn't feel right yet. Instead, he prized open the door to Regulus's room. The air was musty and stale. A fine layer of dust and cobwebs coated most of Regulus's things, but the room was as immaculate as Sirius always remembered it. Regulus had been a tidy child.
Sirius sat down carefully on his brother's bed. The walls littered with newspaper clippings about Voldemort were the only untidy thing in the room. They had been pinned up haphazardly, and many were torn. The only article that had been afforded any care was the one directly over the bed. It was framed and mounted. Sirius leaned closer, causing the bed to groan and send dust billowing everywhere.
This newspaper snippet was different. It wasn't about Voldemort at all, rather it was from the social pages. It was the announcement of James and Lily's wedding, and there at the bottom, was a mention of Sirius.
"Strange," Sirius murmured. He wasn't sure if he was flattered or disgusted that Regulus had found his appearance in the paper just as worthy of wall space as Lord Voldemort's.
"Reggie…" Sirius turned the camera around in his hands. Curiously, he tried to turn the knob that would release the last photo. It was stuck. Sirius was halfway through taking out his wand before he realized it would do no good. Kreacher had said his mother had tried for years to make the camera work, what else could he hope to try?
"Stupid Reggie…" he murmured. "Why would you tell Kreacher to keep the camera safe and then break it so he couldn't get the picture out? Seems awfully cruel of you…"
Sirius's finger ran over a notch in the camera. Intrigued, he looked more closely.
"Oh that's right," he whispered, amazed. "I remember now. This is a special camera that I got you, isn't it, Reggie? You have to have a key to make it print photos. If you don't have the key, it jams up…I got you this one so you could lie to Dad about what kinds of pictures you'd been taking, and he'd be unable to prove you were lying…he only wanted you to use the camera for family events..."
The memories came back to Sirius easily, although it had been somewhere around twenty years. The holes Azkaban had seared into his memory were slowly filling in, like someone pouring a cool drinking glass full to the brim.
"Well it's useless without the key," Sirius said. He rolled the camera down to the end of the bed and lazed backwards. "And I couldn't begin to guess where you left the thing…shit…"
He laughed bitterly to himself. He was about to close his eyes when he noticed for the first time, that the framed newspaper article about James and Lily's wedding was askew.
Frowning, Sirius sat up and pushed the frame to straighten it. All the Voldemort articles, although shabby and yellowing, were at least straight, why shouldn't his also—
The frame slid swiftly down the wall and onto the bed like it had been rigged to do so when touched. The entire framing structure was loose.
Without thinking, Sirius tore the back matting off. Inside was a small note.
Inside your first valentine, if you've still kept it was written in Regulus's neat cursive.
Intrigued, but also a little frustrated, Sirius stood up. He scooped up the camera and went to his own bedroom.
He didn't stop to contemplate how his room seemed identical to the night he'd left it behind forever. He was too focused on tearing through the chest in his closet. Sure enough, somewhere midway down was a tiny, heart-shaped card. Regulus had given it to him god only knows how many years ago, and it had sat in Sirius's room ever since.
The note Regulus had left had been right. If he'd not suspected Regulus had hidden something valuable inside, this folded piece of card paper would have been one of the first things Sirius threw away when he started purging Grimmauld Place in anticipation of the Order of the Phoenix.
If Sirius remembered correctly, the card had originally said Happy Valentine's Day Sirius and I love you lots in Regulus's five-year-old handwriting with copious misspellings and backwards letters, but time had faded all the old pen markings. Instead there was a new inscription inside that said only:
Don't do it unless you're sure.
Beneath was taped a small, silver key. Sirius pried it carefully from the valentine and immediately stuck it into the camera's lock.
This time, when he turned the knob (cross-legged on this bedroom floor, half in the dark, like an eager child and not the aged, escaped convict that he was) it spun and clicked happily. The tray then deposited the final picture ever taken of Regulus Arcturus Black.
Sirius pulled it free from the camera. Sure enough, there stood his brother, looking to be about eighteen (mere hours…if not only minutes before his death, Sirius thought, remembering what Kreacher had told him) and severely malnourished. His eyes were sunken into dark crevices and his robes were barely hanging on to his bony shoulders. Regulus was leaning against the front door, head facing down and staring at a necklace he held in his thin hands.
Sirius set the photo down, disappointed. Of course it didn't move or talk, it had not been soaked in the proper potion. He could do it himself, perhaps. When Snape arrived, he could put aside his distaste for the man and ask for his assistance, but why should he bother? Regulus was dead and staring at an animated photograph would not help that.
"Sirius?" came a surprised voice. "Is…is that you?"
Sirius started and snatched the photo back up. Regulus had moved. He was standing straighter now, with the necklace tucked away in his pocket. He stared out of the picture with his head cocked sideways, curious.
Sirius could only gape. Photographs never talked, they only moved…and then only after being developed properly. It was magical portraits that talked...This was wrong.
"R—Regulus?" he stammered.
"It is you! Oh, Sirius, you did finally come home! I knew you would. Father said never, but I knew—"
"Regulus!" Sirius demanded again. "How are you talking to me?"
Regulus seemed to ignore him.
"You look so grown up, Sirius, what year is it? How long have I been waiting?"
"It's 1995," Sirius said quietly.
"It took you twenty years…before you wanted to figure out what became of me?" Regulus asked sadly.
"It's not like that, Regulus, I was…indisposed," Sirius said. "Regulus, what are you doing in this photo?"
"I wanted so much to talk to you, but I was going to die…" Regulus explained. "I didn't want Mother to be able to print the photo so I thought I'd hide it somewhere only you would find it…"
"You're quite lucky I did," Sirius commented. "Did you expect me to go snooping around your bedroom?"
Regulus shrugged.
"This is insanity," Sirius said suddenly. He stood up and threw the photo of Regulus back down onto the bed. "You're dead, Regulus. I don't want to talk to magic trick, okay? It hurts."
He made to leave the room.
"No, Sirius, it really is me!" Regulus pleaded. "It's not just an illusion, it's me, here, in the picture!" He was waving his arms, crossing and uncrossing them frantically in the hopes of attracting Sirius's attention again.
"I don't know what you were playing at when you were alive, Regulus, but I have no intention of going along with this."
He closed the door and went down to the kitchen. Dawn was approaching and he needed to make the place fit for humans lest the entire Order get sick from breathing too much asbestos.
Order members began to come and go. Meetings happened, and the Weasleys moved in. Sirius enjoyed the company, but found himself sinking deeper and deeper into a depression he wasn't sure he had the energy to dig himself back out of. With only the promise of Harry's company later on that summer, he found himself spending most of his time alone, or with Buckbeak, whom the headmaster has smuggled into Walburga's old bedroom.
It was late July before he approached Regulus's photograph again. He had avoided his bedroom since that night.
"Sirius?" Regulus Black looked up excitedly. He was sitting down, and once again had the necklace out. Sirius noticed it was a locket.
"All right, let's hear it," Sirius said. "What'd you do?"
Regulus stood up eagerly, stowing the locket hastily into a pocket as he did so. "I bound myself to the camera," he said. "So that when I died, a portion of my soul would remain trapped in the last photo the camera took. I had Kreacher make sure that last photo was actually of me to avoid any complications. It's really me you're talking to, Big Brother. I'm really Regulus, and I've been asleep in that camera for a long time, as I understand it."
"Are you trying to tell me you made a horcrux?" Sirius demanded.
"No!" Regulus shouted hastily. "Nothing like that. If this were a horcrux, there would be a possibility to reattach my soul to my resurrected body, but you couldn't do that, even if you had my body…and believe me, you…you wouldn't want to go get my body." He laughed humorlessly. "I'm guessing mine was an empty-casket funeral, huh?"
"Don't know, I didn't go," Sirius said.
"O—oh…"Regulus bit his lip.
"No," Sirius said. "Don't cry, Regulus, it's not like that! I was in prison when you were finally declared dead. You'd been missing for so long, it… Regulus, you know I would have gone if I'd been able to," he added in an undertone.
"Azkaban?" asked Regulus fearfully. "Sirius, what happened?"
Sirius told him everything. To his surprise, Regulus cut him off before he could explain his innocence.
"You switched with Pettigrew…didn't you? Sirius why would you do that? He was a double-agent!"
"How did you know?" Sirius demanded.
Regulus held out his arm. "Let's just say he and I knew each other."
Sirius suddenly glared. "You knew he was the spy," he sounded disgusted.
"Of course I did, Sirius, so did you!"
"No I didn't!" Sirius shouted. "I had no fucking idea, and I trusted him! And he betrayed us all!"
"How could you not know?" Regulus gasped. "I sent you letters, so many of them…"
Sirius's heart fell to his shoes.
"W-what?" he stuttered.
"Pettigrew was the one who helped me join up. When I changed my mind about everything, I sent letters to you to warn you about him. I guess I'd always thought that you might, you know, take me in if I helped your side by telling them Pettigrew was a traitor. When you never responded I thought that meant you hadn't forgiven me, but I never thought you hadn't gotten my letters. The owls always came back unharmed…"
"I threw them away," Sirius whispered.
A few tears slid down Regulus's face. "Oh," he said. "O-okay…I guess you really didn't forgive me."
"I don't want to talk anymore tonight Regulus," Sirius said.
Regulus only nodded, then sat back down again and put his head in his hands. He was shaking slightly.
Sirius set his photo in his top dresser drawer and went to bed early that night. He and Remus were going to try to tackle one of the sitting rooms tomorrow.
"Do you still love Remus?" Regulus asked the next day.
"How did you know he was here?" demanded Sirius, opening his dresser drawer to better address his brother.
Regulus looked up at him in contemplation. "I heard him in here talking to you the other night. I think he loves you."
"Remus is my best friend, of course I love him," Sirius said plainly.
"I mean like something more, like you used to."
"Regulus," Sirius said sternly. "I was never in love with Remus; I have no idea what you're talking about."
Regulus looked extremely hurt. Sirius racked his brains. What was he forgetting? What vital memory had Azkaban taken from him this time?
Regulus's gaze fell to the ground. "When you…told me you couldn't see me…anymore…you said it was because you were more in love with Remus Lupin," he choked out between barely contained sobs. "That you loved him more…that I needed to leave you alone…"
That memory hurt when it clawed its way back into Sirius's brain. He put a hand to his forehead and closed his eyes in pain.
"I…"
"You were just saying that to get rid of me?" Regulus finished his sentence for him.
"I didn't mean to hurt you, Regulus."
"You never loved me," said Regulus quietly.
"No, I didn't want you to get hurt! We couldn't stay…together…Regulus, because people would have found out! It was wrong, and it would have ruined your life!"
"You lied to me," Regulus whispered.
"You lied to me, too!" Sirius shot back. "When I left home you promised you'd look out for yourself, that you'd be safe without me there, but you weren't! You went and committed suicide!"
"No I didn't—"
"Oh, don't give me that shit, Reg. I'm not stupid. I know you planned this…prepared for this. You fucking waltzed to your death!" Sirius spat.
"I had to," Regulus said simply.
"No you didn't," Sirius said petulantly, but he knew he was wrong. Regulus had had no other options.
"I thought you wanted me to die."
"Of course I didn't!" Sirius screamed. "How could you think that? You were my little brother! My lover! My everything!"
"When you didn't respond to my letters…"
"I was angry with you, Regulus," Sirius insisted. "That's all! Do you have any idea what your disappearance did to me? The dementors dragged every happy memory I had of you and used them to remind me how I'd lost you, every fucking day. I went days at a time without eating, thinking I could maybe starve myself to death, and then I might get to see you again! I loved you."
"It's a good thing you didn't die then," Regulus said wryly. "You wouldn't have gotten to see me."
Sirius raised an eyebrow. "And why is that?" he rasped.
"Because my soul is in here, silly," Regulus explained. "I can't go on when I'm trapped here in this world."
"Regulus…" Sirius marveled. "What if I had never found that key? You would have been trapped in that camera forever…"
Regulus shrugged. "It's just like being asleep," he said. "It's sure going to be an endless and terrible existence now that I've woken up, isn't it?"
"Regulus…"
"I didn't, uhm, I didn't actually think you'd ever unlock my camera. I just…I don't know why I did it. I just felt like I needed to do something."
Regulus looked dangerously close to tears again. Heart breaking, Sirius interrupted him.
"How did you die, Reggie?"
Regulus avoided eye contact with his brother.
Sirius adopted the firm tone that had always worked on Regulus when he was younger. "Now, Regulus," he commanded.
Regulus timidly removed the necklace from his robes and held it as close to Sirius as he could.
"I…stole something…"
The summer ended. Harry and his friends went back to school. Sirius was sad to see them go, but then again, he was sad most all the time these days.
Remus had several times heard him talking late at night, and had voiced concern for him.
"Nothing," he'd said dismissively. "Just thinking out loud a lot."
He spent most of his spare time with Regulus's photograph. There was no longer any doubt in his mind that what Regulus had said about his soul was true. It was truly his little brother inside that picture, and it made him sad to think that now not only could he never have his brother back in life but even death would not reunite them. Regulus would be forever trapped in that picture.
Since Regulus had explained the nature of his own demise, Sirius had been having nightmares as well. Cold dreams where rotting hands pulled him under murky waves. He always woke up sweating and shaking, and Regulus was always there, sitting lonely in his photograph, ready to reassure Sirius that everything would be all right.
"You have your godson," he'd say. "You've got Remus, you've got your friends. There are so many people who care about you, Sirius."
"But they're not who I want," Sirius said through the darkness.
"Up until a few months ago, they were the only ones you wanted."
"I know," said Sirius, a single tear escaping his left eye. "I know…"
"Don't go, Sirius," Regulus warned him. "Stay here, with me."
"I can't," Sirius said desperately. "Harry needs me. He and his friends are in danger."
"The rest of the Order is more than capable of handling this without you and you know it! You'll die if you go, Sirius, I just know it…" Regulus said.
Sirius nodded. "I know…you're probably right."
"So why won't you stay, Sirius?" Regulus pleaded. "Please, don't leave me alone in this house forever," he begged.
"I have to go and help," Sirius said earnestly. "If something happened to Harry, or someone in the Order, and I wasn't there to help, I'd never forgive myself, I'd—" Sirius realized what he'd said wrong too late to stop himself.
"Regulus, I…"
"Don't," said Regulus shortly. "Just go then. Of course I don't expect you to stay behind while someone you actually care about is in danger. I know you, and I know you'd gladly die for someone you loved."
"I loved you, Regulus!" Sirius said. "I loved you and I wanted to help you!"
Regulus shook his head. "No, you didn't," he said.
"Yes, Regulus, I did! I still do! What can I do to prove that to you?"
Regulus appeared not to hear him. "Please burn my photograph before you go, Sirius," he requested. "I…I don't know if that will actually release me or destroy my soul entirely, but…I need to go."
"Regulus," Sirius's voice quavered.
"I should never have done this to begin with," Regulus said. "You don't need to be haunted by my memory as well. You might survive the fight, I don't know, but if you do, you certainly don't need me bothering you anymore. Reminding you of everything..."
"If I burn this photo of you, Regulus…does that mean I'll get to see you when I die?" Sirius asked suddenly.
"I said I don't know, Sirius," Regulus said. "We probably wouldn't even end up in the same place, after all, you're a good person."
"You're a good person, Reggie," Sirius said firmly.
"You're lying to me again."
"Never, Reggie, never," Sirius murmured. "I've only ever lied to myself."
Regulus looked up at him through his lanky, black bangs.
"The first thing we're going to do when I get ahold of you on the Other Side," Sirius said confidently. "Is get you a haircut, Little One."
Regulus smiled a little through his tears.
"It might not work, Sirius," he said quietly.
"It will," Sirius replied instantly. "Trust me, Reggie." He didn't know, but he needed Regulus to think he did. Hadn't there been a time when Regulus was certain that Sirius knew everything?
Regulus nodded, and Sirius carried his photo over to the fireplace.
"Try to make it through tonight," Regulus told him. "I…I won't be going anywhere, so…"
"Regulus—"
"If this works then…I'll wait for you forever; you don't need to rush or anything…"
"Regulus."
"Yes?"
"I love you," Sirius said.
"Yeah, I love you too," Regulus said. "I don't think I've ever loved anyone else."
Sirius placed him gently in the flames. Regulus was quiet, perhaps so as to not alarm his brother, but Sirius could see the horror on his face, could see him double over in pain as the heat from the fire disintegrated his photo.
Sirius murmured to Regulus soothingly until he was nothing but ashes, then stood up and apparated away to where he was needed.
His trip through the veil was painless. He felt guilty for being so lucky when Regulus had suffered so much…twice.
He hit the ground on the other side and didn't need to open his eyes to know he was no longer in the Department of Mysteries.
It was through pure sense memory that he recognized the feel of the thin arms around his shoulders and the soft lips against his jaw.
And the first thing he said was a whisper.
"Have you missed me terribly, my little valentine?"
Not exactly what I intended, but I couldn't have everyone going around being all happy and shit on Valentine's Day, right?
Signed/tenkuroi