Author's Note: Some swearing. If it offends, I'm sorry.

Disclaimer: I don't own anything recognizable as it all belongs to J.K. Rowling. I don't really want to type this out every time, so this applies to the whole thing.

Show Me What I'm Looking For

August 3, 1976

The cigarette butts littered the ground beside him as he perched on the railing of the uppermost balcony of Number Twelve Grimmauld Place. He blew smoke off into the night as he took another drag from his latest fag and stared off into the distance. He'd taken up the smoking a couple of years ago as another way to piss off his mother, who, when she'd caught him one night, proceeded to yell at him for hours about the dangers of filthy Muggles and their disgusting habits and how dare her son, a member of one of the oldest and most prestigious pure-blooded families in Britain, smoke filthy Muggle things, and sent a few well aimed curses his way before he was sent to his room to think about what he'd done. Not that he cared, he'd learned to tune her shrieks out years ago. It had been far worse when she'd discovered the posters and photos he'd hung in his room. He hated the summers, when he was trapped in this bloody house, made to pander to the whims of his mother, who alternately wanted him under her watch in an attempt to squash out the evil blood-traitor and Mudblood views he'd picked up over the school year or out of her way when she couldn't stand the sight of him any longer. He definitely preferred the second option. The only way he ever managed have any sort of freedom at all were those times she and his father would go away on business or times like now, when she'd banished him from the party going on downstairs, stating that she wasn't in the mood to deal with his issues today. Not that he particularly wanted to be present as it was a whole bunch of Slytherins and their pure-blooded mania and bigotry.

He flicked ash off over the balcony railing as he stared into the late summer night at the London skyline, wondering what his friends were doing at that moment. Probably off enjoying themselves. Sure as hell not smoking by themselves on a balcony while a stuffy pure-blood party goes on downstairs. He took another drag of his cigarette, enjoying the sensation of smoke entering his lungs. He knew this wasn't the healthiest of habits, but he couldn't care less. A sudden noise at the door startled him as he whirled around to face the intruder.

"Oh, it's only you, Reg," Sirius said casually, turning back around to face the city lights.

"I got bored."

"What do you want me to do about it, Reg? Jump off the bloody balcony for your amusement? You'd like that, wouldn't you? The blood-traitor offed by a 4 story fall to his death. I can see the headline now. Mother'd just be disappointed she didn't do it herself," Sirius said bitterly as he took another drag.

"I never said I wanted you dead. I just thought I'd find you here," Regulus said as he came up to the railing after shutting the balcony door. After a few minutes, he spoke again. "You know Mother hates that filthy Muggle habit."

"Of course I do, why do think I do it?"

"Never mind."

The two brothers stood side by side at the railing, the elder occasionally taking drags of the cigarette in his right hand. Sirius could hear the slight noises from the party, the clinking of glasses and the low drone of the guests as they talked of something or other. The silence between them started to grow more uncomfortable the longer it lasted. Sirius wondered how it had become like this, how two brothers had grown so far apart, two brothers who'd been inseparable before that year, the year that changed everything. Sometimes, he wished that he could go back to the summer before that year, so that he could have that feeling of closeness again, when his relationship with everyone in his family hadn't gone to shit. There was a part of him that still wanted his family's love and affection, but he was too proud to admit it. So he pretended, pretended that he didn't give a damn, pretended that he hated his mother and his father and his little brother, his cousins, aunts, uncles, the whole lot of them, pretended that it didn't hurt when his mother cursed him or his father hit him. Oh, they hadn't done anything to him since the Easter holidays, when they'd forced him to come home for darling Narcissa's wedding to that charming Lucius Malfoy. He'd accidentally spilled his drink on Narcissa's dress, which in itself was not that big a deal since it could be fixed quite easily. The problems arose from the subsequent shrieks from Narcissa about him ruining her day, which went against his mother's express demands that he not make any scenes or misbehave in any way. The fallout from that incident resulted in a few choice words, some strategically aimed curses, and being locked in his room for the remainder of the holiday. Needless to say, he was glad to go back to Hogwarts, to his friends.

He stubbed the cigarette out on the railing and tossed it out into the night. He swung his legs back over the railing and jumped back onto the balcony. He used his foot to push the cigarette butts over the edge and watched as they descended into the darkness below. His parents never bothered to go out into the garden and besides, it's not like they ever cleaned. They'd make Kreacher or one of the other house elves do it. Sirius started to turn to go back into the house but a question from Regulus stopped him in his tracks.

"Sirius, do you ever wish that it can all be like before? Before you went to Hogwarts and got sorted into Gryffindor? When we would tell each other everything?"

Sirius was not expecting this at all, especially not from his little brother. It was like Regulus had been reading his mind. It was a full minute before he whispered his answer.

"Yes. . ." It was the most truthful and vulnerable he'd been to his brother since the summer before his first year at Hogwarts. He'd thought of lying, of saying no, but he couldn't. Not this time. He made a decision right then. "I've thought of it many times. Yeah, in some ways, I kinda wish it could be like before. Before Andie left, when Bella didn't look at me like dung on the bottom of her shoe, when Cissy and I could actually talk without it ending up in yelling and arguments. When we actually had meaningful conversation beyond basic small-talk and pleasantries and insults. I do wish for that sometimes . . . but it can't be the same. Life moved on and we have to accept that we will never be that close again, that our family will never accept me, that I can never accept all that pure-blooded bullshit that Mother and Father went on about for years. You've seen what they do to me when I don't conform to their ideals or to their standards of behavior. I've never been a push-over, Reg, because I just don't think it's worth it to compromise myself in order to get our family back. It wouldn't be right anyway, without Andie. Sometimes, I think I want to follow her. Get the hell out of here, because I'm so fucking tired, Reg. So tired of trying to watch myself so that Mum won't curse me if I say or do something wrong or Father won't hit me in one of his rages. You don't understand, you're perfect little Regulus. Can't do anything wrong in their eyes, while I'm the white sheep, the Black who doesn't fit in. Maybe it'll be better if I was gone."

"You can't mean that. I need you." Regulus' voice was trembling. "I'll always need you. You're my big brother. Without you, who am I to look up to?"

"No, you don't need me. You haven't looked up to me in years. You've got Bella, Cissy, all you Slytherin friends. You did everything they expected of you, you were sorted into Slytherin, you made all the right pure-blooded friends, Mother and Father love you, their perfect little Slytherin prince. No, you don't need me. You never have," Sirius said resentfully, staring up into the night sky. He'd moved back towards the railing of the balcony and had sunk down to the ground with his back towards the railing, while Regulus had sat down next to him, his eyes to the ground.

"I'm not brave like you or Andie. It would have killed Mum if I'd not been in Slytherin, you know that. Remember your first year? She was so livid that she marched to Hogwarts and insisted on a new sorting, but Dumbledore refused to allow it. She sent you Howlers for weeks. She made me promise that I would be Slytherin, that I wouldn't disappoint her like you had."

"Of course you did. Maybe if you actually had a spine, you'd see that Mum doesn't know everything. There's more to life than all this," Sirius said, gesturing towards the house and the party below.

"Well, excuse me. I know what Mum and Father do to you. I have eyes and I'm not stupid enough to rile them up and make them have to punish me. It's not like I want them to favor me," Regulus replied, fidgeting with his shoelaces.

"That's rich. You secretly like it, don't you? Admit it. I had the attention for years. I was their goddamn heir, the first-born son, and then I got sorted into Gryffindor, so ok, no use to us anymore, they tossed me aside and went to work on you, their untainted insurance policy. Merlin, I need a fag." Sirius reached for the pack in the back pocket of his jeans to grab a cigarette and his lighter, which he used as another way to piss off his parents. Exactly the reason why he'd taken Muggle Studies in 3rd year. He'd quite enjoyed the incensed looks on his parents when they'd realized he was taking the class, but not the punishment so much. He lit the cigarette and took a drag, trying to calm himself down.

"Those things will kill you, you know. And look, you can believe whatever you want, but I don't want the attention, I never have. I was happy not being the heir. It meant I was free from all their expectations on who I should be or what I needed to do."

"Yeah, yeah, whatever. Look, Reg, you know how Mother and Father rile me up. I'm never going to agree with what their vendetta against Muggle-borns and blood-traitors. I know it's wrong. I know you think so too, but you're too scared to admit it. Don't worry, I won't tell them." Sirius continued examining the stars. There was no moon that night, just the stars. They sat in silence for awhile, while Sirius continued taking drags from the cigarette in his right hand.

"Sirius, are you really going to run away like Andie?" Regulus couldn't help asking. He was almost afraid to hear the answer.

After a lengthy pause, Sirius finally answered. "I don't know. I think I'm getting closer to it. Sometimes I feel that one last row with Mum and Father'll do it, push me over the edge. They haven't done anything in months. It's like I can feel the pressure building, building until that day when the dam breaks and we'll all say and do things that we can never take back. That'll be the day I leave."

"Promise me. Promise me that you won't go before my birthday. Promise me you won't leave me without saying good-bye," Regulus sounded like a little boy, the little boy who'd idolized his big brother Sirius. Gray met gray as he finally looked up to meet the eyes of his brother.

"I can't promise anything, Reg, but I'll try. I promise I'll try. I know it's not what you're looking for, but I can't promise anything more." Sirius took one last drag of the cigarette and stubbed it out on the ground beside him. "Reg, no matter what, you'll always be my little brother. That, I can promise."

With that last statement, Sirius stood up with a careless grace and turned himself back out towards the city. He could hear his brother getting to his feet beside him and the footsteps back towards the door.

"Sirius?"

"Yeah?"

"I'll always look up to you. I know you don't believe me, with the way we've been ignoring each other for years really, but I do. I just thought that you needed to know." The door opened and with a small click, Regulus was gone, leaving Sirius gazing out at the sleeping city, wondering how it had all come to this, how their relationship had degenerated to the point where he didn't really know his little brother at all.