Disclaimer: Not mine.
A/N: Written for "The Serious Sirius Challenge", my prompt was his first loss.
Sirius Black, like any other child was used to losing things. Whether it is something mundane like a forgotten and lost favourite toy or something more important like his parent's affection when he was eleven.
However, all these never mattered. Not really, Sirius still had his friends, still had his cousin to talk to and his brother to talk to in secret. His perfect little brother, who was so excited during his first train ride. Who for a second smiled sadly when he was sorted to Slytherin, because even in school – and Sirius' home for the past two years, he would be separated from his brother.
Sirius tried to pull Regulus away, he really tried. But Regulus was naïve and wanted to please mother and father, he wanted to make them so proud that they would forget about Sirius for a small while. And please them he did.
The year after Sirius ran away and would no longer be there for Regulus, was the same year Regulus took that wrenched, thrice cursed mark on his forearm they were ever so proud.
Over the next two years their meetings were sparse. Sirius focused on his Auror training; trying to stop Voldemort, on the weekends he let go with James and Remus – Peter was strangely sparse these days too.
Then one day Kreacher appeared in the Potter's kitchen bearing the news that Regulus died. Regulus had ordered him to tell Sirius should something happen. Sirius yelled at the elf to go away, and that he doesn't care about someone who willingly dedicated himself to the Dark Lord. James tried to comfort him but Sirius shrugged him off.
In the comfort of his room Sirius erected a ward and cried. He cried for the last thing tying him to his childhood, cried for the naïvety of a brother who was barely an adult. Sometime around midnight Sirius was sitting around the fire with an almost empty bottle of Firewhiskey in his hand. Lifting the bottle in a silent toast to no one in particular, Sirius whispered a sardonic toujour pur.