Punishment Enough
The first time he heard the news, it fell from the lips of a visiting auror, dropped like a bomb, intended to wound and maim. No, that was a lie. She didn't mean to hurt him. She'd always been quite nice, offering a smile along with the customary curt nod. She always told him about significant events, like who was the Minister now, and which countries were fighting over oil. But this news was different. It wasn't something she would have told everyone, but she knew all about his family tree. Hell, most of them were in here. Sometimes he heard the manic laughter of his cousin. Sometimes he heard the whimpers of her husband. But the auror stated her news, matter of fact. No room for sentimentality in an auror. They were the ones who knew how much had been lost. When he heard, he'd affected blankness, pretending, as he had done for so long, that the life of his brother didn't affect him. But in Azkaban there was no place to run to, no alcohol to lose himself in, no lover to distract himself with. Here there was only sadness and regret. And it was these emotions that lead him to punch a wall of his cell, over and over and over, until the aurors on duty had dragged him away, shackling him so he couldn't hurt himself, couldn't damage himself, couldn't punish himself, for having not fought harder for his brother.