Summary: What good is life without a little Alternate Reality fanfiction? As suggested by Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix, Sirius's younger brother "panics about what he [is] being asked to do" and gets himself into a bit of trouble because of it (pg. 112, North American Edition). Now Sirius has the option to leave Regulus to be killed or maybe, just maybe, get over himself and accept that some people exist in shades of grey.

Story Notes (sorta' important): Started out as a story request from a friend of mine elsewhere in some shady corner of the internet, and I moved it over from my old LJ account just for the hell of it. It was actually written many years ago, shortly after the release of the fifth Harry Potter book.

Since this was written so many years ago, a lot of it doesn't add up with the info that's come to light since 2003. For example, there's no mention of Horcruxes, no cave with a killer potion in it, and Regulus's age is totally wrong (as is Lily's, for that matter, I don't know why I had assumed she was so much older than James). I did go back in and edit a few names and such to make it a little more relevant, but I didn't want to give the story a total makeover. I sorta' like that it has that 'old fanfiction' tone to it.

And also, since this was written when I was in the…well, you don't need to know what grade I was in…it's not exactly my best writing. I just thought I'd post it on here anyway in case someone wanted to enjoy it, and I apologize for how utterly terrible the writing is.

Structure: This story has three chapters. One for introductions and pointless musings which contains an atrociously unforgivable lack of Regulus Black, a second which was meant to accurately pinpoint Sirius's biggest insecurity and arouse both Lily and James's curiosity and their want to protect people, and a final section that I think was an attempt to psychoanalyze Sirius and Regulus's relationship with a final push at the end towards an epiphany and an ambiguous ending. I don't really remember too well…it's been awhile.

Official warnings: semi-graphic sex scenes, violence, sexual/psychological child abuse, sex between minors, dubious consent, and blatant misuse of the phrase 'I love you.'

Title: Unable Are the Loved to Die is credited to Emily Dickenson. Characters: credited to J.K. Rowling.

Insanity: credited to yours truly.

start chapter one

Section I

Fucking weather, thought Sirius grumpily. As if England wasn't depressing enough with the current state of things, now there was rain coming down sideways, coating the roads so thickly that Sirius felt as though he was wading through a lake.

Shit. He kicked at the ground, sending water flying up everywhere. His robes were already soaked through, and his boots were never going to be properly dry again. He was angry that it was putting him in a really foul mood just before he was to present his findings to the Order. He couldn't waltz into Headquarters soaking wet and spouting off expletives, he had enough trouble getting respect from the older wizards as it was.

This business of wandering the dark, and soaking, back streets of Knockturn Alley was really just bad timing. He needed to meet up with the others in less than twenty minutes but first he had to get his hands on some potions of a rather sensitive nature. Drugs he supposed would be a more blatantly honest term but either way he was almost to the front shop now and this wasn't something he wanted to postpone any longer, he was running low.

Sirius shook his head a little. Stress relief sure was getting harder to find, and more expensive.

The rain was easing up a little, however, and it was probably that factor alone that allowed him to hear what he did. The voices, which would have otherwise been lost in the mindless drone that was the rain on and all around his head, rang clear, if slightly faint, straight into his ears. He froze.

"What in the hell do you think you're doing, huh?"

Sirius melted into the brick wall, converted immediately into a stealth mode of sorts. He inched his way down the alley and finally peered around the corner. There was a small group of people, four to be exact, and he was, unfortunately, rather well acquainted with several of them.

Death Eaters. Well, he supposed it was fitting. Here he was, blowing off the Order of the Phoenix like the irresponsible and selfish person he was, and who should he run into but a group of the very terrorists he was supposed to be undermining.

For a moment he considered high tailing it, just turning around and apparating straight to Dumbledore. Everyone was already gathered for a meeting anyway, he could grab some of the others, be back here in an instant, and they could frighten, capture, or kill these sorry sons of bitches. However something stopped him. These were Voldemort's soldiers as he had never seen them before. They seemed to be, in a way, off the clock. No masks, no organization whatsoever. They weren't even wearing robes, just shirts and jeans. No, right now these were just people.

And it was what they were saying that fascinated him. He stepped closer to listen in; the three Death Eaters who were standing had their backs to him, and were effectively towering over the fourth person who was either one of them, or else some unfortunate victim. Sirius was in little danger of being seen.

"You, IDIOT," the tallest one growled. It was Rodolphus Lestrange, and he looked the worse for wear. The rain had matted his hair to his head and face, and his movements were jerky. He glanced to his sides now and then, as if terrified someone was going to sneak up on him.

Well somebody is, you sorry bastard, thought Sirius. He closed his hand around the handle of his wand, readying himself for if any of them turned a full hundred and eighty degrees.

The man standing next to Rodolphus was Lucius Malfoy, and Sirius thought if the Ministry could see him now, he'd be in Azkaban just for looking the part of a crazy person. He was disheveled, and his shirt was torn and untucked. He was screaming, literally raving. He actually spun in a complete circle at one point, but was in such a rage he didn't even see Sirius who was, by this point, only ten or so feet away. Instead he steadied himself and kicked the surrounded person. Hard. Sirius heard a muffled scream after the sickening thud that was bones being jarred by the toe of Malfoy's boot. He grimaced. The fallen man's left arm was sticking out at an odd angle and in between the six legs that surrounded him, Sirius could see a faint mark—the Dark Mark. So the fourth man was one of them as well. All pity vanished from Sirius's heart.

And then the final standing murderer was someone Sirius had not seen in a good number of years, but he bore such a strong resemblance to Rodolphus that in all likelihood he was his younger brother.

"Fucking hell!" Malfoy screamed. "We're dead! Every last one of us and for what? Because you, you are a coward."

The older Lestrange picked the Death Eater up off the ground and slammed him hard into the wall at the end of the alley. He had his hand pressed firmly over the other one's face, fingers digging into his flesh, and he ground his head against the brick. "He's going to kill you," he hissed. "And torture us because we were involved. You back out on us; you've betrayed the Dark Lord."

"No," the man gasped. "It's not, I just—you don't—"

Malfoy stepped forward again. Sirius watched unfeelingly as he drove his hand into the other Death Eater's open mouth, grabbing hard. The sound of rain didn't quite cover up the pop and crack of the jawbone. Malfoy's thumb was cutting into the underside of the man's jaw and he could speak no more, only gurgle and moan. Lucius flung him to the ground and kicked him again, this time in the face.

"FUCK!" he screamed again, tearing at his own hair. "Do you not understand what you've done?"

"I haven't—" insisted the man. Sirius's eyes were wide with interest by this point. What could this Death Eater have done to make his own partners turn on him like this? He imagined the possibilities would make quite a long list. The Death Eaters were, as a general rule, a fairly emotionally unstable group.

"That's right, you fucker," Malfoy growled. "You didn't do what you were told. Is it really that hard? You had…ONE order. ONE! And you couldn't carry it out."

"I couldn't, Lucius!" the man screamed from the ground. The words came out thickly from the injuries to his face and the spatter of warm, syrupy blood that seeped out the corner of his mouth. Sirius still couldn't tell who it was, his face was pressed into the pavement and the surrounding Death Eaters were huddled too close.

Then Rodolphus kneeled down on the ground. He seemed a little calmer, but if anything he was more dangerous. He grabbed the man's shoulders and heaved him up into a sitting position. Looking him in the face, he spoke almost softly, so that Sirius had to strain to hear him. "If you're for our cause you're in all the way, there's no partial loyalty. The Dark Lord gave you a command, and after promising to carry it out, you didn't. Now, does that sound like faithful service to you?"

"You don't understand—" he started to insist, but stopped in mid-sentence and started coughing violently into Rodolphus's shirt. Rodolphus flung him back to the ground and stood up.

"Disgusting!" he exclaimed, and began furiously wiping his front. "Fucking blood all over me, and," he looked closer. "Ah, shit."

Upon noticing the fallen man squirming on the ground in such a manner that suggested he was trying to stand up, Rabastan moved forward and stomped his heel down on his wrist. Something snapped, and the man screamed as Rabastan dug his heel down harder, grating the joint against the pavement. Tiny chips of rock embedded themselves into the skin, blood veins swelled and then burst. Rabastan growled.

Malfoy, however, seemed to be calming down. He wiped rain and grime off his face and smoothed his sleeves. "All right," he said suddenly. He pushed both Lestranges back away from their victim. "We can fix this."

Sirius realized then that his mouth was hanging open and gathering rainwater. He nearly choked, but managed to quiet himself.

"Just what are we supposed to do? We are not going to get away from this."

"It is simple," Malfoy insisted. He turned his full attention to the brothers and Sirius got his first glimpse of the man on the ground. No, suddenly he didn't look like a man, more like a boy, a teenager. Sirius wondered why his heart was still unfeeling towards the situation.

The kid had dark hair, but his face was too disfigured and covered in blood to be recognizable. This is what Sirius told himself.

Malfoy continued. "We don't need him. We continue with our mission as planned, only first we kill this worthless traitor and then one of us will just have to do his part ourselves."

Now the kid on the ground was curled up in a ball, and crying into his knees. He seemed to know he wasn't going to live much longer, but he still cried out for his mother—and for daddy.

A small smile formed on Sirius's face. Any previous thoughts of leaving the scene for help were now truly gone. This was even worth being late to the meeting for, hell, it was worth postponing his drug purchase for. He was going to get to watch these monsters kill one of their own. He felt like a teenager getting his hands on a dirty magazine. His whole body positively tingled. This pathetic kid was going to bite it soon, and then there'd be one less useless person in the world. If you weren't going to fight for what was good, you could at least bother to be faithful to your dark master, Sirius reasoned.

If you weren't us you were them. And all of them deserved to die, by whatever means available. It was simply the truth.

"Great," muttered Rabastan. "We've all got our own shit to do and now one of us has to kill Sirius Black as well? Fucking great."

"Shut up, and quit your goddam whining, it's not like we have a choice."

Kill him? My, things were certainly very interesting after all. Sirius almost allowed himself to laugh silently as he pretended to wonder just why on earth Voldemort would think this stupid child soldier would have even a chance of getting close enough to him to kill him.

Sirius was briefly struck by his own cruelty. He found himself wondering what James or Lily would do in this situation. Of course the idiots would try to help this useless deserter. Why wouldn't he do the same, if he and James were so very similar?

But no, he and James were not so similar at all, and he sure as hell wasn't anything like Lily. They weren't weighed down by constant misery and guilt. They'd done only good with their lives; they hadn't ever taken advantage of anyone. They'd only ever loved and been loved in return.

Sirius wasn't even sure if he knew real love when he saw it anymore, his mind was so warped by this point.

"Fine, whatever, just fine," Rodolphus's voice snapped Sirius out of his reverie. He was standing so very close to the group of them now, it was truly amazing they hadn't noticed him.

Braindead fuckwits, Sirius smirked.

"I guess I'll do it," Rodolphus continued.

"Do what? Kill him or Big Brother?"

Sirius's smile briefly faltered.

"Him, you idiot, Malfoy can kill the Blood Traitor."

"Oh why thank you for volunteering me, Lestrange!"

"Shut the hell up, Malfoy, god." Rodolphus turned and looked down again at his victim. The kid was shaking; his back was twitching, then soon having spasms which quickly escalated to what looked like an all-out seizure. "Sorry, kid," Rodolphus shrugged. "I almost kind of liked you for a while there…no, stop crying for him like that, your big brother isn't going to come help you now, he never liked you anyway, remember?"

Regulus mumbled and took in great, shuddering breaths. It seemed to be all he could do.

In what a normal person might have considered to be overkill, given Regulus's current state of mind and body, Malfoy smiled a crooked little smile and raised his wand, murmuring in that soft, regal voice of his, "Legilimens."

Regulus's body convulsed on the ground and then finally, perhaps mercifully, he was still, the slow heaving of his chest the only sign indicating that he was still alive.

Then an abrupt, harsh sound reminiscent of a laugh left Malfoy's mouth. "No, he really didn't love you at all, did he? But it sure seems like he had some serious fun with you there for a while." Malfoy was looking at Regulus with disgust and contempt. "No wonder you were so eager to join up, if you're so used to being used by everyone."

"Don't be cruel, Malfoy," Rodolphus insisted mildly. "Now let's just get going. One of us is still going to have to explain to the Dark Lord why we wasted such a potentially useful recruit. Everybody start thinking how exactly we're going to word our explanation…and practice your occlumency." He raised his wand lazily and pointed it directly at Regulus's chest. "Later, Black, too bad you're such a coward. You had the perfect opportunity to get back at that disgusting brother of yours, but you wasted it. Now there's nothing you can do, and Sirius is too weak to save you even if he wanted to—"

Weak. That struck a nerve and Sirius was finally spurred into action. Growling, he sliced his wand through the air. "Multos," he screamed. Nobody called him weak.

More than a dozen shadowy figure burst forth from his wand, each strongly resembling a cloaked wizard, and Malfoy, Rodolphus and Rabastan all spun around wildly, taken completely off guard.

They didn't even attempt to understand what they were seeing. A good look would tell them they were staring at harmless smoke humans which were already fading, but they had been so startled that, thinking themselves hideously outnumbered, they fled. They apparated so quickly they probably splinched themselves.

Well, good, Sirius thought as his smoke people faded into nothing, although he would really have liked to have gotten a few good curses in there before the Death Eaters had fled.

This left him quite alone in the alleyway with his brother, who didn't even seem to notice he was there. Regulus hadn't moved—hadn't even flinched—when Sirius had cast his spell, as if he was still stuck in the memories that Malfoy had pulled to the surface and was no longer even aware of his surroundings.

Sirius refused to go much closer than two or three feet from him, because the rain had worn down to a steady trickle and he didn't want to step in the now stagnant pool of blood surrounding the fallen Death Eater.

Sirius sighed. What, just what, was he supposed to do now?

"Sir…us?" Regulus had opened his eyes. Sirius didn't answer him.

Regulus tried to sit himself up but with only one working hand the attempt didn't go over too well. He fell back down, and didn't try again. Instead he repeated his brother's name. When he moved his mouth, Sirius could see bright blood between his teeth, and his face adopted a revolted expression.

"I'm assuming this is yours?" Sirius finally spoke, pointing to a wand fallen some ten feet to the left. He walked over and picked it up. He recognized it immediately; it was definitely Regulus's wand. "Well, I guess I'll just keep it then," he said in an offhand voice.

Regulus was quite quiet. Sirius wondered briefly if he had died.

Would be for the better, he thought. Sirius wasn't sure executing his brother would bring him so much joy as he might have thought.

But then Regulus started to dry heave, still very much alive, and Sirius swore under his breath. Well, maybe he hadn't quite become a cold blooded killer yet, but he had been rendered cynical enough to think leaving Regulus for dead was an agreeable compromise. Let Voldemort and his faithful Pureblood Slaves take care of the waste of space that was Regulus Black.

Well maybe that wasn't true, hadn't Regulus been useful for some things?

"You're…leaving?" Regulus managed to choke out in between stomach convulsions.

"Yes," said Sirius simply.

"Will you," Regulus paused to cough into the ground. It was something of an accomplishment that he could speak at all; his lower jaw was positioned much too far to the left. "Will you take me with you?"

"Of course not," Sirius hissed. "You're as good as dead anyway when your little friends get back, and besides, you're of no use to me like this, all banged up and unable to move…not so pretty anymore."

Regulus looked up at him briefly, eyes dull. It seemed to take a great amount of effort just for him to move his head. Sirius walked around most of the blood carefully and then, arms stretched as far from his own body as they could go, he lifted Regulus roughly off the ground by his arms. Regulus seemed to be trying to say something, but he couldn't form the words anymore.

"However," Sirius said, holding his brother against the brick wall with one arm, the other loose at his side. "If you get the chance to talk to anyone before they kill your worthless ass, don't tell them I never did anything for you."

Then he punched Regulus hard in the head—probably hard enough to knock him out—and with both his and his brother's wands in his pocket, he apparated straight to Order Headquarters, by that time truly furious that he was covered in rain and quite without any drugs.

section II

"Okay, now run this by me one more time again, Lily."

Lily rolled her eyes as she threw her duffel bag to the ground. "We've both told you, Sirius! We're hiding from Voldemort, is it really that difficult for you to understand?"

"You and James, I get," said Sirius, eyes his two friends as they began rifling through their bags for anything that needed to be put away in the kitchen or living room. "After all you're a Mudblood and James has been marked for dead for a while now, honestly I'm surprised Dumbledore didn't deem you both useless and lock you up long before now…but why do I have to be here?"

James took a deep breath and looked up from the floor, his arms still elbow deep in his suitcase. "Because, retard, you were the one who just went and blabbed to the whole Order about how Voldemort had specifically ordered your brother to kill you."

"Yeah," Sirius scoffed, throwing his own bag onto the sofa. "And look where it got him," he reached into his pocket and took out Regulus's wand. "Motherfucker's dead. This's all that's left of him," he examined the wand closely.

"Sirius, stop complaining and help us unpack!" James said angrily. "If you want to go and…well if you need to go reflect for a while about Regulus that's fine, but otherwise get your ass in gear and help us make this place habitable. We're going to be here for a while!"

"I am not going to go cry my eyes out in my room over Regulus," Sirius said coldly. "I'm glad that he's dead. First Father, now him. All that's left is my Mother, it's like Christmas came early."

Lily stood up, a set of dishes in her hand. "Sirius, number one: you are a terrible freaking liar, and number two: take these dishes into the kitchen for me."

Sirius shrugged his shoulders and obliged, losing the desire to argue.

When he returned to the living room, James and Lily were meandering around it, flicking their wands absently, changing the wallpaper, summoning knick-knacks to place on the mantel, and lighting up the fireplace.

James started putting up pictures he'd packed in one of their suitcases.

"You wanna' go fix up the bedrooms, Sirius?" he asked without looking at his friend. "I've got some sheets and comforters in my suitcase. There are alarm clocks in Lily's duffel bag."

Sirius rolled his eyes. "Yeah, sure whatever. Have to wake up on time for all the important work we're going to be doing for the Order."

Lily laughed from where she crouched in front of the fire. "Oh just be happy you're alive, Sirius, that you get to live. We're safe here in this house. Sure I'd rather be fighting, but if Dumbledore wants us kept safe then I am not going to fight the man on it. Even if it is just a thinly veiled move on his part to get rid of three over-eager and obnoxious teenagers."

"You're nearly twenty-two—"

"Besides, Padfoot, you're still in some danger."

"Oh really?"

"Oh yeah," James smirked, smoothing out his shirt. "You're the Secret-Keeper, aren't you? When the charm kicks in tonight at midnight, you'll be the only one able to tell people where we are. With you hidden out here we're completely un-findable."

"So?"

James flung his head back and stared at the ceiling. "So it's your job to leave once and a while to check in with everyone else, catch us up on all the important stuff going on, make sure we aren't still hanging out here nine years after Voldemort's death!"

"Yes, Sirius," Lilly nodded. "You could be killed walking out the door and apparating to Headquarters."

She and James sniggered.

"Both of you, close your damn mouths. Fucking Secret Keeper," he added in an undertone.

"I suggested they just get a telephone up in here and call us when something important happens, but nobody seemed to believe me when I said Voldemort probably wasn't focusing on hacking phone lines."

Sirius was yanking bedsheets out of James's suitcase. "Can't they just send us an owl?" he griped.

"Dunno', think they might be worried about owls being tracked or something so we're not going to get much more than the newspaper delivered to us by bird."

"You know, they have cordless phones now," Lily mused.

"Yeah, yeah," Sirius started to march up the stairs, calling back down at his friends. "And I suppose hooking us up with some two-way communications device is out of the question? Or Floo or something?"

"Totally," James and Lily both yelled.

"Something about regulations and the Ministry finding out," James explained, but Sirius was already out of earshot.

"Lily," said James some several hours later. "This is a bad idea; none of us knows how to cook!"

Lily continued to rummage through the kitchen gathering dishes and ingredients they had been supplied with. "We are all in our twenties now, for god's sake we have to learn to take care of ourselves sometime!"

"We are going to burn down the house," James whined.

"What do you want to do, Jaime, call out for pizza?"

"I appreciate your sarcasm, Lily, I really do."

Lily, who was wearing socks but no shoes, slid across the hardwood kitchen floor and over to one of the cupboards from which she began searching for wherever they had earlier placed the spatula. "That will be a good thing if you ever manage to land yourself a girlfriend or—god forbid—a wife."

"Hey, am I really that ugly?"

"Whoa, which one of us is the one spouting off negative adjectives, man?" Lily said, her hands raised in defeat, while at the same time Sirius said, "yes."

"Good to see you're still against me, Sirius," James said with mock hurt in his voice.

"Just voicing the truth."

Lily was now pushing food around in a saucepan with the spatula she had found. "Oh I just remembered, Sirius, I ran into a man in Knockturn Alley earlier today—where I was shopping for entirely legal items, James—and he gave me some stuff he said he had had reserved for you. Then he made me pay for it. It's in the front pocket-thing of my duffel bag if you want it. Some kind of potion and a bunch of syringes?"

"Well maybe you won't be so bored here after all," James said as he gathered up cutlery and plates to set the table. "You can kill yourself slowly on magical acid trips."

"First of all, never use any sort of drug terminology, Prongs, you don't know what you're fucking talking about. And Lily? Uh, thanks, I guess. I'll pay you back sometime."

"You're goddam right you will," said Lily cheerfully. "Here, switch me Jaime, I'll finish setting the table, you make sure these omelets don't burn."

"Yum, omelets for dinner," James smiled, and he and Lily exchanged forks for spatula.

Sirius, however, didn't feel like joining in on their playful banter like he normally would. James and Lily were two of the few people who made him feel comfortable; at ease, but for some reason he really didn't want to be around anyone right now. There was this strange feeling creeping around in his stomach and while he couldn't quite identify it, he knew that he didn't like it.

Even when the three of them were seated at the table, James and Lily eating happily and trying to convince Sirius to help them come up with plans for entertainment over the next stretch of time, Sirius didn't feel like doing much more than mutilate his dinner.

"Last time I cook for you," said James in disgust as he watched Sirius press the flat edge of his fork down so hard on his omelet that eggs and cheese spilled out all over his plate.

"Sirius," said Lily with worry. "You know…you know Regulus's death wasn't your fault, honey. They'd killed him before you even got there; there was nothing you could do!"

The fork flew out of Sirius's hand and clanged on the table.

James tried to catch Sirius's eye. "I know you pretend you don't care or anything, but he was your baby brother man, and finding his dead body…and overhearing those Death Eaters saying…saying why they'd done it, well, that has got to be hard. I know it does, don't lie."

Sirius was taking deep breaths. Why couldn't they both just shut up?

"I'm really not bothered," said Sirius, eyes looking down and to the right. "I don't miss him. Besides," he finally glanced at James. "I have you, and you're a much better brother, anyway."

Brother, maybe, but what about—?

James didn't have anything to say, and neither did Lily, but they both seemed rather disturbed by Sirius's comment.

Predictably the next few minutes were tense and silent, but things eased back eventually. James finally broke the depressing mood by looking earnestly to both Sirius and Lily. "So since we're going to be trapped here for god-only-knows how long, and none of us has a boyfriend or girlfriend—"

"Actually, James," Lily began.

"I mean no one has a significant other here with us right now. So we are going to have to get creative. Lily, who do you want to have sex with first, me or Sirius?"

"Hm," said Lily, taking a drink from her cup of water. "How about you and Sirius go at it, and I just watch?"

"Maybe when I get really desperate, but not now. How about all three of us at once, then?"

Sirius went limp and sank incredibly low in his chair, his head lolling to the side.

"Let me think, James…uh no."

Section III

Alone in his room, staring at the ceiling, Sirius had all the time in the world to brood. Everything was just so wrong. And why? He was shacked up with his two best friends under strict orders to do nothing but hang out and slack off. He was responsible for no one and nothing. This should be perfect.

But he just didn't feel right. There was this sick, spinning in his stomach and he couldn't make it go away. He felt like a man on his deathbed, looking back and realizing he'd lived an empty life full of wasted opportunities. Something was missing.

He had James—his brother—and he had Lily—a best friend. So why did he feel all alone? He didn't want these feelings to come back.

Angry now, he violently tore off his shirt, and then sat up on the bed with his head in his hands. He was sweating, and it made his skin slick and sticky.

He needed to get out of that safe house, if only for a little while. Grinding his teeth together, he locked his bedroom door, threw on a jacket, and was out the window with practiced ease, as stealthily as if this were some act of rebellion he must hide from his parents.

It was well into the night by now, but he couldn't see the stars. There was a dirty fog in the sky, in the streets as well, and shaking his head Sirius set off down the road with no particular destination in mind.

Suddenly getting a hold of someone—anyone, it didn't matter who—seemed like a very good idea, a necessity almost. The sickness in his stomach was migrating down his body. He paused his walking and nearly groaned. Now this was quickly becoming a situation he was more familiar with, a feeling he could put a name to, this incessant want that just wouldn't go away.

Sirius wished he had the presence of mind to be thoroughly ashamed of himself. He should know better than this, and in a bar of all places. Yet there he sat, downing drink after drink and eyeing people up and down. He could have his pick, really, he could, but they had to be just right.

No, not so tall as that, and no blonde just wouldn't do. Those eyes, they were too small, that chest was not flat enough.

It was as if his superego had died back with Regulus in that alley. He laughed to himself and searched for the bottom of still another shot glass. He knew, part of him really did know, that he couldn't allow his id to just run rampant like this, hand in hand with copious amounts of alcohol, but what else could he do? He'd been running from his past for the better part of five years, swatting it away like a buzzing insect whenever it tried, meekly, to approach him. Now he had finally hit a wall (a dead end), there was nowhere left to run, and the buzzing fly was immortal.

He'd worked so hard to build this new life for himself. He had morals now; he had a cause to fight for, and friends to support him. Nothing from before all that mattered and he certainly didn't want anything to do with any of it.

Still, if that was the case, then why was he here? If he wasn't trying to replace what he'd only just realized he had lost, then why had he come? What exactly was he looking for?

"You," he said, unable to stand it a minute longer. "How'd you like to go somewhere a little quieter?"

Rooms with dark, peeling wallpaper, rooms without so much as a hint of light. That made it easier, but Sirius still couldn't shake the image from his mind. Everything was so close, but off by just that much, and that made it almost unbearable. To be so very close…

The hair was dark brown, but no, it wasn't dark enough. It would look better if it were darker, and shorter. It was too fucking long, well past the shoulders and all around the face, almost a goddamn hijab. Only the eyes were pretty, a brilliantly clear blue, but that was wrong too, somehow. Those eyes were too beautiful for this face that was so ugly, so soft and round. Everything was too damn soft.

He couldn't stand to grab the shoulders, they were too small, so he tried to hold on by the waist, but it was…squishy. A small, flat stomach, yes, but there were no muscles nestled firmly underneath, just fat. It was unsettling. His hands hastily slid up to grip each side of the face and slowly they tumbled down to the mattress.

Sirius closed his eyes so tightly it hurt, closed them until he saw sparks; it was the only way he could bare to kiss trails down the chest and abdomen. He wanted to gag, but kept going, he needed this.

Weak, weak, so weak. How he would be mocked if any of his friends knew about this miserable performance. What was he doing wrong? The satisfied sighs and moans channeling through his ears and to his brain were only pissing him off: he should be the one making those sounds.

"Fuck."

Just finish, already.

Just like…that.

Sirius looked over. The eyes were closed and a small sigh ghosted out from between the lips. She seemed contented enough, so why didn't he? He got up without a word and threw on the bare minimum of clothing. She called after him sleepily, and in a voice laced with hurt, "hey…wait," but he was already out the door.

He nearly ran back to the house, pausing only when he reached the window outside his room, chest heaving. He leaned forward, arms crossed on the side of the house, face buried in his forearms.

Perhaps he had been lying to himself. Maybe just anyone wouldn't do after all. Maybe who he really wanted—really needed—was gone. Gone and dead.

He wanted to scream but instead he just cried quietly. He didn't notice when the rain started.

"Fuck, Regulus. I have never been so mad at you!"

end chapter one.

So there's the first third or so of this demented, monstrous thing. And yeah, I posted all three chapters at once…what of it?