Of Dirt and Blood
A/N This is something I was mulling over and Lolua talked me into it. Turned out better than I thought. Tell me what you think. I've got another in mind. I've grown fond of Regulus, despite his tendency to be stupid. And of course I love Sirius.
2 A/N Sorry about the last version I know it didn't makes sense the computer wouldn't let me format the way I wanted to.
Disclaimer- Again… I own nothing. I am destitute.
There was dirt in his mouth and blood on his hands, but he refused to cry. Looking at his torn trousers and muddy shirt brought the sting of tears to his eyes, but he would not let them fall. He could hear his father's voice in the back of his mind, "Only babies cry." Regulus Black was not a baby.
"Come on, up you get." Someone said and grabbed hold of his arm.
Angrily he jerked it away and turned a glare on whomever had tried to help him.
"Sirius." He managed with a small hiccough.
"Come on." His brother repeated and hauled Regulus to his feet.
One knee burned when he bent it and with a loud cry he almost fell over again, but Sirius caught him. Gently the older boy steadied them and took most of the weight on himself. Their progress was slow as they made their way into the house and up the many steps to the bathroom they shared.
Several times they halted abruptly and scrambled around a corner or through a doorway as one of the house elves passed by. They were almost discovered when Regulus sniffled as they hid behind a tapestry. Luckily, the elf was in a hurry and hadn't time to look for the source of the sound.
"Sit." Sirius said when they reached their destination and the door was locked tight.
The younger boy obeyed and seated himself on the edge of the bathtub.
"What happened?"
"I fell." Regulus whimpered and held out his scratched palms as proof.
His brother sighed and squatted down in front of him, eyes narrowed in thought. Carefully he inspected the shreds that were now the knees of his trousers and the stains on his pale blue shirt. A look of consideration had furrowed his brow, and he absently chewed on the inside of his cheek.
"I'll get a washcloth." He said finally and began to rummage through the cupboard beneath the sink.
"Will… will you tell Mum?"
The older boy did not answer, simply wet the washcloth in the sink.
"Will you?" Regulus repeated.
"Let me see your hands."
Grimacing as Sirius wiped the blood away, he again asked, "Will you tell?"
"Take off the trousers." Was the reply.
Another sniffle escaped him as he stepped out of the ruined garment. When he was seated again, Sirius began wiping the blood from his knees as well. Soon all that remained were the raw wounds and a few bruises.
"You really should watch where you are going."
Regulus nodded.
"Mum'll be furious when she sees what'd been done to your new trousers." The older boy continued.
"But will…"
"You're all of six and you still can't pick up your feet."
"Sirius… she'll kill me."
"She won't kill you."
"Easy for you to say, you're her favorite."
Sirius stared at his brother for a time, watching the sheen of unshed tears glisten in the light. The silence was uncomfortable and tense, both knowing the truth and neither willing to say it aloud. Blushing, Regulus reached for his discarded clothing.
"No."
"What?" The younger asked in confusion.
"You wear these." Sirius commanded and began to unbuckle his belt.
"But those are yours."
"You're nearly as big as me."
"Yes, but Mum'll kill you then."
"Go on. Buckle the belt up tight."
"But…"
Without another word Sirius slipped the tattered trousers on before pulling his own shirt over his head. Regulus accepted it reluctantly and handed his own mud covered one to his brother.
"Sirius?" The younger boy asked he watched him unlock and open the door.
"Just be more careful next time."
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There was dirt in his eyes and blood on his chin, but he refused to cry. Despite the pounding pain in his head and the burning sensation that traveled up his arm, he would not let those tears fall. He could hear the boys in his dormitory, "only first years cry." Regulus Black was not a first year.
"Alright, lets go." A voice said.
He turned to curse at the unlucky person who had found him in such a state, and was stunned to see his brother standing there.
"Sirius?"
"You're bleeding. Come on." The older boy said and reached for his brother's hand.
"Where are your friends?" Regulus asked looking around.
"Just get up." Sirius sighed and pulled him to his feet by the back of his robes.
"Did they see?"
There was no reply, just a firm grip on his shoulder. They walked through halls that Regulus didn't know, up secret passages and down hidden stairs. No one saw them, which the younger boy realized, had been the entire point of the round about path.
"Where are we going?" He asked once.
"The infirmary."
"We can't. No."
"You're bleeding."
"She'll owl Mum. She'll tell her I was fighting."
When they reached the infirmary, Madam Pomfrey was nowhere to be found. The older of the two frowned and pushed his brother down onto one of the immaculately clean beds.
"You really have to watch where you're going." Sirius said with his hands crossed over his chest.
"He wanted me to apologize."
"You ran into him."
"I don't have to apologize to someone like him." Regulus hissed.
"Like what?"
"Mudblood."
Sirius stood very still, not blinking, barely breathing. The younger boy glared back, heart beating faster. Both knew the truth of the matter, but neither said it aloud. After a minute Regulus dropped his gaze to the ground.
"Let's get you cleaned up."
Regulus allowed his brother to wipe the blood from his lip and elbow. His movements were rough and stung, but there were no apologies.
"Are you going to tell Madam Pomfrey that I was fighting?"
"That cut is deep, but I got most of the dirt out of it."
"Are you?"
"As for your lip… I had something like that not to long ago, and it healed up in an hour or so."
"Sirius… are you going to tell?"
"Tell what?" His brother finally answered, sounding bewildered.
"Are you going to tell that I was fighting?" Regulus begged almost frantically.
"I thought you fell down the stairs."
They stared at each other again, the younger boy finding it difficult to look at the remaining anger in his brother's eyes.
"Sirius…" He was interrupted by footsteps outside the door and the sound of voices in the hall.
"Forget it."
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"Bloody hell, get up." A harsh voice said from nearby.
Reluctantly he looked up into the darkness and found his brother standing over him.
"Sirius?"
"Come on." The older boy held out his hand for his brother to take.
"What are you doing here?"
With a low growl Sirius hauled his brother up by his shirt collar. For a moment he wavered in the air before pitching forward and nearly having the same accident all over again. This time he felt Sirius catch him and take most of the weight on himself.
"You've hurt your ankle."
"Mum's furious."
"I expected nothing less." Sirius said very quietly.
"Sirius…"
Without another word the older brother started moving towards the front steps of the large house that loomed in front of them. Extra care had to be taken as his ankle could barely support his weight. It seemed hours before they reached the door.
"Are they home?" Regulus' voice sounded panicked.
"They went out."
"Will they know I've been here?"
"The sitting room is this way."
"Sirius."
"Careful of the carpet."
"Sirius…"
"I heard you. Now, let me see your leg."
The younger boy winced as his sore ankle was poked too roughly.
"Just twisted. Nothing broken."
"She's burnt your name off the tapestry."
Sirius paused and looked up with a ghost of a smile. He seemed to think this over for a bit, the ghost slowly becoming a self-satisfied smirk.
"Already? Didn't expect it so soon."
"What's wrong with you? You know what that means."
"Thought I'd feel different, lighter or something."
"It's not too late, if you came back now…"
"I'm not going back."
"But Sirius…"
They stared at each other. Both knew the truth of the matter, but neither felt a need to speak it aloud. Instead, Regulus shifted uncomfortably in the over-stuffed armchair and watched his brother sit back on his haunches.
"The old bat could burn a hole right through my skull and I still wouldn't go back."
"Don't talk about her like that." His brother said in a low tone.
"Don't get all virtuous with me, you know as well as I do that she's a manipulative, evil hag."
"She's your mother!"
"Not by choice."
Regulus glared angrily up at Sirius, dark eyes flickering with emotions he desperately wanted to express.
"Blood traitor." He snarled.
"Don't use words you aren't old enough to understand."
"I think I understand perfectly."
"Really?"
"You betrayed your family to live with filth…"
"Be very careful." Sirius interrupted as he stepped closer.
"Mother was right about you."
"I think you should leave now."
Quickly, Regulus stood up and nearly toppled over when his ankle gave way beneath him. Again, Sirius caught him.
"Let go of me!"
Seizing his brother's shoulder, Sirius pulled him to the door and opened it.
"I don't want to see you here again."
"Don't worry."
Unsteadily the younger boy made his way down the garden path again, wincing with every step.
"Be careful little brother, I won't be around to pick you up anymore."
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There was blood in his mouth and dirt on his hands, and he desperately wanted to cry. When he tried to struggle to his feet there was a sharp pain in his right leg that brought him back to his belly. Try as he might, not a single tear would fall. He could hear his master's voice, "Death Eaters show no weakness." Regulus Black took the Dark Mark and forgot how to cry.
There was the sound of approaching feet crunching through the new fallen leaves.
"Sirius?" He asked quietly.
No one answered him, but he felt a boot prod his ribs.
"Well, well, can't get up?" A low voice questioned in mock sympathy.
"Please…" He begged, trying to see the person.
"He requests mercy." A second voice replied, followed by a sickening laugh.
With a great deal of effort he rolled to his back. Even in the black of night he recognized the black robes and white masks of Death Eaters. Not long ago he had worn the very same attire, stood shoulder to shoulder with these men, but now he lay bleeding.
"I… I didn't…" He tried.
"You were clever to run in here, might very well have escaped." One of them said, grey eyes glittering as he stepped closer.
Panic edged into his brain.
"Took quite a fall, should watch where you are going."
"Traitor." The other growled and punctuated it with a sharp kick to Regulus' wounded leg.
The men laughed at his howl of pain, both things he was familiar with. The last time had been two weeks ago, they had killed a muggle woman, tortured her for hours. The sounds of her screams echoed forever in his mind, followed by the harsh laughter of his companions. The next time his mark burned, he did not answer.
"I'm not… I didn't…" He tried to explain through the waves of pain.
"The Dark Lord has called you and you have not answered." The grey eyed man said quietly.
"I was…"
"For a week now you have disregarded his summons."
"I… there were… please."
"Have you anything to say for yourself?"
Regulus made apologetic noises and pleading hand gestures that were ignored. The one with dark eyes raised his wand and pointed it at the prone man's heart.
"Diffendo!" Regulus shouted and prayed he had been strong enough.
The subsequent cry of pain and anger answered the question. Watching his attacker clutch his hand to his chest while trying to stop the bleeding brought a sharp laugh to his lips. Any joy he had felt ended with a wave of pain that left him screaming into the night.
The pain had ceased but he lay panting on the ground, stars flashing before his eyes. Somewhere in his mind he wondered where Sirius was. Why hadn't he come to help him yet? His brother had always been there to drag him to his feet and clean him up. There had never been a time when Sirius was not there to help him. Until now. Realization flooded him.
This was his own fault. He refused to hear reason. He allowed his mother to rule his life. He said those horrible things to Sirius. He joined the Death Eaters. Everything that was happening now was the direct result of his own stupidity.
"I'm sorry." He whispered to no one.
"I think we have moved beyond apologies." The man with grey eyes said.
"I just wanted…" Regulus muttered, trying to see through the haze that had fallen over his eyes.
"This is not a cause that you can simply walk away from. That mark on you arm is for life. You were a Death Eater, but you will die a traitor."
"I'm not… I'm not…" He whimpered gripping his wand, raising it ever so slightly.
"No, no. Not again." The other man said harshly and placed all his weight on Regulus' wrist.
"Please." He pleaded one last time.
"I grow weary of this." Grey-eyes sniffed, "Kill him."
It seemed an eternity before the dark-eyed man lifted his wand and pointed it again at his enemy. For one brief moment everything seemed at peace. Regulus could hear the birds in the trees, see the wind moving the leaves, feel the dirt beneath him, and taste the blood in his mouth. The green light of the spell engulfed him and he knew darkness.
The two men smiled beneath their masks, one nudging the body with his foot.
"Is your hand still bleeding?" The first asked.
"No."
"You let your guard down."
"I know."
"Be quick and thorough, never let the enemy have the upper hand."
"It won't happen again." The other appeared apprehensive.
"Nothing to fret over, you finished the job well."
"Thank you."