Long-Ass Summary: Sirius Black has a perfect life. He graduated from Slytherin house with honors, he's married to the perfect pureblood woman, and he fulfills a respected career as the Dark Lord's ministry liaison. Yet he can't help but glance back sometimes at the brother he hardly speaks to anymore. Regulus never did quite live up to their family's impressive expectations; but when Sirius's life comes crashing down violently around him, the seventeen year-old psychopath he thought he'd rather forget may end up being all he has left.

Story notes: I've wanted to write this for a while. It's a massively AU story in which Voldemort controls most of the western hemisphere and Sirius Black is a Slytherin alumnus. Also since I'm me I'm going to throw up the brotherxbrother incest warning right now even though it's not for a long while. Shit, that was probably a spoiler, but I feel like it's the sort of thing you need to warn people about early on. This first chapter is all mostly set up by default but I hope you guys enjoy it anyway. Go ahead and leave a review if you liked it!

Chapter 1: Beltane Brothers

Sirius Black had always harbored a fear of spiders. Originally born logically from the knowledge that some of the little bastards could literally kill you, it had over the years morphed into an all out irrational phobia. He couldn't pinpoint the exact moment when what was once an odd quirk transformed into a debilitating disease of the mind, but he was certain it had happened sometime in his teens. He could clearly remember keeping a jar of pet wolf spiders with his little brother Regulus (until their father found them, at least) around age nine or so with no hitches, and his first public meltdown had occurred during his fourth year at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Clearly, something had gone down in the between time.

Sirius's wife (and cousin, but he liked not to think too much about that fact), Narcissa had a minor thing about spiders, too, but hers was more on the level of a sane human being. When a pregnant cookie spider had decided to make her home in the corner of the kitchen ceiling, Narcissa avoided the room for the rest of the day; Sirius spent the night outside in a tent and made numerous threats to burn down the manor.

And true to how the cosmos always seemed to conspire against him, he'd been plagued with spider-inundated nightmares since Christmas. It was more than once that he'd woken up in a cold sweat with the sheets tangled everywhere, comforter thrown to the floor, and Narcissa sitting rigidly against the headboard, grinding her teeth.

He'd taken every potion and non-magic remedy he could think of. The family's healers were perplexed. Nothing seemed to bring him any relief, not even for a night. A few of the prescription muggle drugs he'd been brave enough to try had worked for a couple of days, but their effects inevitably wore off and left him to the mercy of his straining mind.

And it really was his mind that was breaking, because the nightmares weren't the worst of it. For the last few months, Sirius Black had been having what he could only assume were daytime hallucinations. Usually they took the form of snakes. Sirius wasn't particularly frightened of snakes beyond a normal level of caution necessary for dealing with anything that could bite; however, it had been more than disconcerting the first time a ripple in his wall grew progressively bigger before cracking open and dropping a fully grown black mamba onto his living room carpet.

He'd screamed, actually. Dashed backwards and whipped out his wand before Narcissa had come running.

"What?" she'd yelled.

But by the time Sirius had mustered the strength to emphatically gesture towards the wall, everything had disappeared. The wall was stoic, its wallpaper flawlessly replaced, and there was no snake in sight.

"I…it…"he'd sputtered.

Pureblood Mania, Narcissa called it. "Your parents are cousins," she reminded her husband. "And they're hardly the first set…come to think of it, our first clue should probably have been when you married your first cousin…"

Sirius hadn't told any of the healers about his hallucinations in the vain hope that they would go away on their own. Narcissa had laughed at him mostly, but there was still a small glint of unease on her face whenever he mentioned any of his 'episodes' that made him nervous. He didn't want word getting out that he was going insane so perhaps the fewer people who knew, the better. And what good could the healers do anyway? They'd not yet even managed to curb his nightmares…

The worst part was there was no pattern to any of it. The episodes were entirely irregular, and seemed unaffected by weather, his diet, stress, or any other factor. He'd long since stopped informing Narcissa about any of it. It would just make her anxious, and Sirius Black had long ago decided his life was grating enough, thank you.

"Have you readied what you'll wear for Saturday?" asked Narcissa casually over breakfast the morning of Wednesday, the 27th of April.

"Readied?" asked Sirius wearily. Biting his lip, he smoothed his syrup around his plate, waiting for the incumbent explosion.

"Well I've not seen you purchase anything yet…"

"Cissa, I've been working," Sirius countered lamely.

"So have I," she replied briskly. "But I still found the time to pick up this lovely set of imported indigo dress robes for the party and you don't hear me bitching."

"Indigo's going to clash with your hair," Sirius pointed out bluntly. Narcissa bristled.

"Oh, what do you know?" she sighed. "Maybe I'll dye it for the occasion," she whispered conspiratorially, leaning forward.

"Dye it what, purple?" asked Sirius incredulously.

"No, idiot, black like Bella's…and yours," she added as an afterthought.

Sirius nodded. "Well, we'll match, how terribly cute."

Narcissa rolled her eyes but she was handling Sirius's sullenness a lot better than he'd been thinking she would. "Whatever, just make sure you've got something good lined up, and that nothing goes…wrong."

Her words weren't overly hostile, but it was still heavily implied that Sirius was to keep his little episodes under the radar. Narcissa had obviously noticed he was still having them even if he had been neglecting to mention that fact.

"Right," he said.

"Look, I'm trying to be nice with you, Sirius, the least you could do is return the favor."

"Sorry," Sirius stood up and cleared the table. Sullenly, he set the dirty dishes in the wash sink and with a wave of his hand filled it to the brim with soaking water. The house elf could finish it later.

Narcissa smirked and leaned back in her chair. "You're pretty tricky with those kinds of household-y spells, aren't you? You would have made a perfect house-husband. Maybe that's something you should consider when we have kids."

Sirius coughed suddenly and a jet of hot water spurted out of the faucet, striking him squarely in the face. Wiping desperately at his eyes, he gasped, "W-what?"

"Oh, relax," said Narcissa sharply. She stood up and marched past him through the kitchen and towards the staircase. "You've not got people badgering you about that every day of your life like I do so calm down."

"Narcissa!" Sirius pleaded loudly.

"I said relax," she repeated from the top of the stair flight. "Lord knows I'm not the one that wants any brats, and besides you'll never have to worry anyway with as infrequently as you're ever able to get it up."

Sirius blushed a fierce red at her comment but bravely exited the kitchen to face her anyway. "I'm sorry about my father; I know he gets on your case a lot," he said earnestly, choosing to act as though she had not just made a rather uncouth remark about his sexual prowess…or decided lack thereof.

"The man is a maniac," responded Narcissa from her lofty position above him. "He's probably spreading nasty rumors about me around the whole family as we speak."

Sirius groaned, knowing she was likely right. "I'm sorry," he repeated. "He and my mother are on edge about everything."

Sirius moved up the first few steps cautiously, as though approaching a dangerous animal.

"They just…they put a lot of importance in, you know, carrying on the bloodline and whatnot. You understand, I know you do, because Uncle Cygnus is hardly a progressive individual."

"I know," insisted Narcissa. Her stature deflated somewhat and her shoulders sagged. "But why this all seems to be falling on me, I do not know."

"Well," Sirius said calmly. With great care, he walked up to his wife. "They're just panicking that they're not going to get an heir from me…god knows they're not getting one from my brother," he added in an undertone.

Narcissa heard him, though. "What? Haven't they married him off, yet?" She let out a little laugh.

Sirius shrugged. He moved behind Narcissa and wrapped his arms around her, gently kneading around her waist with his fingertips. "He's…proving to be a little difficult," he admitted.

Narcissa scoffed. "Mmm," she leaned back into him. "He's a freak."

"That's one way to put it, yes."

"He's not turned seventeen yet and he's had more stays in that mental institution than most boys his age have had girlfriends."

Sirius rolled his eyes and snorted. Regulus's lack of girlfriends was sort of a piece of the problem.

"What?" asked Narcissa curiously.

"Nothing, nothing, you're right is all," Sirius buried his face in her neck and inhaled deeply. "Now tell me about the new clothes you bought."

Narcissa smiled tentatively and began to describe them in detail, positioning Sirius's hands for him as she did.

"…and the collar is lined…" she drew his fingertips across her clavicle. "…with the most expensive atlas…"

Sirius had a good feeling about this go around. The stumbled into the bedroom together and Narcissa reached slowly down the front of his robes, seeming to dread what she might find. Sirius was aroused, though, and Narcissa let out a delighted squeal before pushing him down onto the bed and jumping after him.

She pulled all her wavy blonde hair over one shoulder and smiled down at him. "So that's all it takes to get you going, huh?" she asked in a joking tone while she started unclasping his robes. "Just a little conversation about your brother and you're all ready?"

She was laughing, obviously kidding, but something about her words left a bad taste in Sirius's mouth and a guilty weight was settling on his chest.

"Right," he muttered, closing his eyes. "Fuck, you're…"

"Shh, I know," she placed a finger over his lips and sat up from him, undoing the navy green work clothes she hadn't gotten around to changing out of. Sirius reached up to weave his hands in her hair and she closed her eyes with a sigh.

Smoothly, Sirius sat up a little and leaned in for a kiss, practically praying that this would all go well. So far Narcissa had been remarkably faithful to him all considering, most likely out of a reverence for their family, but with as unsatisfying as their marriage was it was only a matter of time before she started to look elsewhere. That was something that could cause serious problems if it got out into the public sphere.

Sirius opened his eyes as their lips parted but Narcissa kept hers closed, breathing out a light peppermint smell from her glossy mouth.

Sirius ran a hand down her naked back and she arched for him slowly, like a cat just waking up. He smirked and was planning to plant a trail of kisses from her belly to her neck when it happened: something bit him hard on the hand.

With a cry of shock and pain he whipped his hand back around into sight and found attached to it a long, grey snake, digging its fangs into the back of his wrist. Out of the corner of his eye he saw the spiders. Long, crooked legs and shiny black bodies crawling hastily around in Narcissa's hair and up over her shoulders.

He screamed and flailed madly, knocking Narcissa off of him and onto the rug. The snake released him and immediately coiled around his throat. The spiders rushed up the bed to pool around his face. From his neck the snake was hissing almost soothingly into his ear.

[shhh] it seemed to be saying [don't kid yourself...]

Narcissa picked herself up and pulled her discarded clothing hastily around herself. She seemed unsteady on her feet and there was now a delightfully red rug burn down the side of her forearm. She looked beyond furious.

Panting, Sirius braced himself against the headboard and clawed at his neck. The snake was gone, and so were the spiders, but his skin was still tingling.

"What the fuck?" Narcissa screamed. Her voice made his ears ring and he clapped his hands over them.

"Narcissa, I…" he looked up at her but she was already backing away, shaking her head fiercely, her disheveled hair hanging lankly over her eyes.

"Just…fucking don't," she hissed.

Sirius staggered up from the bed, still a little unsteady himself. He tried desperately to reason with her. "I'm sorry, Cissa, it was just—" he had to duck before he could finish his sentence, though. Narcissa had seized the nearest framed picture off the wall and hurled it at his face. Sirius ducked just in time and it shattered against the far wall.

"Your brother's not the only one in this family who needs to be permanently sectioned! You're a lunatic! I'm…shit, I'm going to Andromeda's. Make sure you've got something nice to wear for that damn Beltane party at your parents'. I'll not have people saying my husband is both psychotic and disgraceful. Don't talk to me until Saturday."

She left, slamming the door with more force than was necessary. Every remaining picture frame on the wall shook and several fell crashing to the ground.

Sirius groaned and threw his head in his hands. He knew he should probably be going after her but he just couldn't make himself do it. Suddenly he'd lost all his energy.

Enraged at both himself and his wife, he flopped back down onto the bed, unwilling to even redress himself. He did still have a problem after all; one that wasn't courteous enough to just go away on its own. It seemed that when he finally managed to get an erection it was without a doubt the real deal.

Sirius's groans turned nearly to sobs of despair as he guiltily wrapped a hand around himself. He jerked himself off quickly, unwilling to think about much of anything at all for fear of what images might slink into his head if he wasn't vigilant. He could still feel the spiders' pointy legs scuttling around on his skin.

The next two days Narcissa was gone; the next two nights he had no nightmares.

Midday on Saturday the 30th, Sirius finally got around to preparing himself an appropriate outfit. It was nearly an hour of belaboring decisions and fretting before he finally settled on the same set of deep red robes he'd worn the previous spring.

At least if they caught on fire this year no one would be able to tell…

Grimmauld Place was just as he remembered it. Nothing had changed in the months since Christmas; nothing had changed in the years since he'd lived here. Sirius's father greeted him cordially and led him in to the drawing room where his mother was carrying on a conversation with her brother, Alphard.

"Sirius!" Alphard cried jovially upon seeing him. "Early like always, I see, good lad!"

Sirius nodded. "And you as well, Uncle."

Alphard Black laughed. "Been here since Tuesday, actually. A vacation in the smog, you might say."

"All that fresh country air was too much for him," commented Sirius's mother, Walburga. "He just had to come back to the city."

"I didn't know you were in town," Sirius frowned. His father sat down next to his brother-in-law, but Sirius remained standing awkwardly in the doorway. "I would have like to have talked to you…"

He turned to his mother as if to demand why didn't anyone send word to me?

Walburga said simply, "Yes but you're so busy at the ministry, sweetheart, you're such an important person now. My dear brother didn't want to distract you from any of your work!"

Alphard, who had been in the middle of a long drink of something alcoholic, sputtered a bit as he endeavored to talk with his mouth full. "Yes, yes…what is it you're dealing with now? The Dark Lord's representative, no?"

"His personal liaison," cooed Walburga. "We're so proud of him."

"Imagine that pays well," said Alphard quietly.

"The monetary compensation is hardly what's important," said Orion callously. "Our son is keeping his whole family in the Dark Lord's good books. Isn't that right?"

Sirius forced a laugh. "Oh yes, he just loves us all," he said, doing his best to tone down the sarcasm.

"Come and sit with us, Sirius," Orion continued. "Do tell us where that pretty wife of yours is, as well."

"Yes," Walburga licked her lips as she lit up a cigarette. With her pitch black robes and long, dark hair, the glowing tip strongly resembled the last dying ember in an empty, smoking coal pit. "Where is Niccy, Sirius?"

Sirius shifted uneasily. "She is…arriving later than I because…she just…well," he looked to his father. "She just couldn't get herself all put together, kept changing outfits and then suddenly needed to conspire with her sister to make sure there would be no matching dress robes fiascos, you know…!"

His father nodded sagely. "Ah, yes," he chuckled. "A familiar problem."

Sirius mother scowled a bit, and turned away from her husband. "Come sit with us, Sirius," she said. "We've hours before any of the rest of the family arrives."

Sirius leaned away unconsciously . "Yes, well…I'll join you all in a little bit, actually, I've something else I've been meaning to attend to now that I'm back home here for a few days…"

"Oh that reminds me, we've cleaned your room for you, sweetheart, fresh sheets and everything," Walburga said after exhaling a thin string of smoke into the air. There was a dignity about her from her posture to her words that suggested quite heavily and by 'we' I mean 'the servants.' It was that kind of casual disregard for something—even a domestic elf—that flippant way of regarding the Help as an extension of yourself that never sat too well with Sirius.

He often suspected that had only a few dominoes been positioned slightly differently, his life would have shaken down in a totally different way, perhaps he would have been a substantially different person. Sometimes—more frequently now that he was married and could see his whole, empty life stretched out ahead of him—he got the uncomfortable feeling that a whole repressed personality lay coiled in the pit of his stomach and the very back of his brain. Somewhere just below the surface of his consciousness was a man with a lot more personality…someone who was probably braver…someone who just one or two little changes in Sirius's past could have brought out.

Be that as it may—it wasn't who he was now ! Who he was now was a twenty-one year old wizard trapped in a loveless marriage with a woman seven years his senior, working as a messenger boy for a masked psychotic, and with no real friends to his name (none he could do more than pretend to trust, really). Yet at least the sheets on his childhood bed had been recently changed!

"Thank you, Mother," Sirius said evenly. "I think I'll just bring my things up to my room…I've got some paperwork to get through tonight. I'll be down when the others arrive, in time for dinner…"

"Yes, yes…remember, Sirius, the celebrations start at sunset, and dinner an hour before! But I wouldn't dare keep you from your work," there was a terrible honesty to his mother's voice.

"Yes, my work is very important," Sirius sighed and turned away. He didn't want to spend any more time with his parents or uncle, but he was dreading going upstairs as well. "Let me know if you all need any more help setting up," he called over his shoulder, and then he was gone from the room.

When Sirius turned fifteen, he had gone through a minor rebellion. Mostly it gravitated around how prude his family was, and in an attempt to either get his parents attention or flip them off (to this day he wasn't entirely sure), he had pinned up a multitude of very tacky posters on his bedroom walls and door. Most of them had been of scantily clad witches from several of the seedier wizarding magazines he'd managed to nick from a friend's father. It had only taken a few nights of lying wide awake under their lecherous scrutiny for Sirius to start strongly regretting his decision. Sexy girls were one thing, semi-naked women cooing and taunting the terrified teenage boy who was trying to sleep were another. In his arrogance, he had plastered them up with permanent sticking charms and he supposed having to ask his father for portraits to tack up over top of them was punishment enough for his hubris.

Nothing bonded children to their parents quite like pounding a nail through a supermodel's face and then using it to string up an expensive painting of a distant relative.

Sirius crept into his room slowly. Sometimes the bikini witches would start getting feisty again if they heard a man moving about in the room, and it was always more than a little disconcerting to hear their moans and pleas coming from what appeared to be a photograph of Sirius's graduating class.

True to Walburga's word, the bed was newly made. Sirius set his travel bag down on it and then sat himself at the foot. Narcissa would want to sleep in a guest room; she always did. It wasn't that strange, he told himself. After all, his parents had separate bedrooms, and they got on about as well as any pureblood couple ever had. At least he and Narcissa still shared a bed at their own manor…well, providing Sirius could keep from screaming bloody murder and chucking her across the room too much.

Sirius threw his head in his hands and groaned. What a disaster the other night had been. His only solace was that his mind seemed to have gotten it all out of its system, at least for a while, and he had had no nightmares or hallucinations since.

"Fuck," he laid back and rolled onto his side. He had lied to his mother earlier; he didn't have any paperwork to do.

"Mm, yes please," came the guttural reply from behind the portrait above Sirius's bed. "Come here and let's do it, little boy."

Sirius opened his eyes and looked up. When the voice didn't stop, he quickly closed his eyes again and threw his hands over his ears to try and drown out the sound and image of a thirteen year-old Regulus Black dressed in immaculate, water-colored robes and asking his big brother to fuck him while they stood side by side on the windy Hogwarts Quidditch pitch.

"Want it…need you…"

"Sirius?" there was a harsh knock on his door. "Lad, are you awake in there?"

A dozen sleazy female voices shut up at once and Sirius Black scrambled up with a frantic start. He wiped at his eyes. Had he really fallen asleep?

"What time is it, Uncle Alphard?" he asked, recognizing the voice.

"Dinner's starting in ten minutes and your mother would like help carrying everything outside."

Sirius nodded, then immediately felt like an idiot. "Yes, "he called. "I'll be right down. Just need to sign this last…letter…"

"You work too much," came the response from behind the door. Sirius heard his uncle's footsteps die away. Still a little floored from his impromptu nap and sporting an erection he'd rather not have, he staggered to his feet.

In the full length mirror by his dresser, he readjusted himself, smoothed his hair, and brushed his robes straight again (leaving extra room in the front). When he thought himself presentable, he took out his wand and headed back downstairs.

There was food stacked on what appeared to be every plate in the house, and said plates were situated all over the kitchen table, counters, and even several of the chairs.

"Oh, Sirius!" came an excited cry from the opposite hallway.

"Bellatrix?" Sirius peered down the dimly lit corridor. Bellatrix rushed at him out of the darkness and swirled around to hug him from behind .

"Good evening, baby brother, we thought you would stay upstairs forever!"

Sirius laughed. "When did you get here?" he asked.

"Round an hour ago. I got here just in time to help finish the desserts," she pointed to a pyramid of roast chicken slices set next to the sink. "Wait," she spun around and instead pointed to the far end of the table, which was covered in Caesar salads. Frowning, she spun again. "Uh…there!" she finally located the giant proportions of gelatin and devil's food cake hidden behind several bottles of wine on one of the kitchen dressers.

Sirius raised an eyebrow. "Really? You made that?"

"…Well I put the frosting on…and opened the whipped cream containers!" Bellatrix insisted. When Sirius started to laugh, she punched him.

"How are we coming along in here?" asked Sirius's mother, reentering the kitchen. She frowned when she saw Sirius doubled over in pain and Bellatrix glaring.

"We were just getting on that!" insisted Bellatrix. "Come on, Sirius," she muttered, straightening him up. "Help us carry this all outside. We're starting eating in a minute!"

"Yes," said Walburga, still eyeing Sirius with unwarranted scrutiny. "Everyone's sitting at the tables outside, we just need to bring dinner out."

Sirius nodded. He knew his parents preferred for their house elves to never be seen by anyone else. Hence why the creatures had cooked the dinner, but disappeared when the time came to present it to the guests.

Sirius slid his wand out of his pocket. "Let's go," he smiled and levitated the starting salads with one hand, and picked up three bottles of sparkling wine with his other arm. Bellatrix and his mother both followed suit and they marched outside.

A chorus of cheers and laughter greeted them when they staggered out the sliding glass door and onto the beautiful back lawn. The first person Sirius noticed was Narcissa, sitting next to Orion. She glared calculatingly at Bellatrix as the three of them approached the table. She seemed to be searching for some clue as to whether or not Sirius had been behaving himself. She appeared to interpret her older sister's sincere smile as proof that all was well, and so stood up and glided over to them to kiss Sirius fondly on the cheek.

"I'll take these from you," she removed the bottles from his grip and set them one by one onto the table.

"Slide one this way, Niccy!" called Rodolphus Lestrange from in between Aunts Lucretia and Druella. Narcissa sent a bottle gliding down the long table where it skidded and fell gently into Rodolphus's awaiting hand. The women on either side of him giggled as he popped the cork and sent a brief shower of alcohol into the air.

Narcissa sat back down while Sirius's father took the salads from him. On her left was Rodolphus's younger brother, Rabastan. He was barely fourteen, and a skinny little fourteen-year old at that. He seemed even smaller wrapped up in a sleek, green sweater that was obviously his brother's, with a glistening skull and snake badge pinned to his chest that also belonged to Rodolphus—a sign of rank given to him by the Dark Lord.

Rabastan took a sip of the very small amount of wine allotted to him by Sirius's father, who was making rounds and dishing everyone out drinks and salad dressing while his wife and Bellatrix tossed around extra forks and serviettes. When he was certain none of the stricter adults were watching, Rodolphus leaned forward and tipped an extra splash into Rabastan's glass. The youngest Lestrange giggled and swallowed it quickly before either of his parents could notice he had more than he should.

Sirius sat down opposite Narcissa and next to Andromeda. He continued to watch Rabastan for a while, cuing up similarities between him and his older brother. They both had the same wavy bronze hair (Rodolphus's would often lie perfectly straight but no matter how hard he tried to deny it everyone knew he took a flat iron to it each morning), identical golden-green eyes and if he took up a few more sports activities, Rabastan was sure to grow out into that tall, lean figure his brother so enjoyed showing off. Rabastan even tried his best to talk like Rodolphus, drawling his words and tilting his head up and to the side…it had been particularly amusing when Rabastan's voice had begun to change and he was left sounding like a dying, female version of the Lestrange heir.

Rodolphus had almost twelve years on his brother, quite a respectable gap, which had always made it apparent to everyone else that Rabastan was a child born because his parents, now content with the respectable Family Head they had carved out of Rodolphus, wanted someone to spoil and love. Rabastan never quarreled with Rodolphus like siblings might, the latter was almost a third, much more lenient parent to him.

Orion slid a plate in front of Sirius, patting him on the shoulder as he did so. As he walked away, Sirius felt a pang of jealousy towards Rodolphus. His family seemed so much more intact—more real. Perhaps that was why Sirius felt so useless all the time, he had no one to idolize or be idolized by. (All right, that coupled with the impotent disaster that was his sex life and patronizing career choice). His own younger brother was loath to so much as speak to him when not forced to by an adult, and honestly Sirius wasn't sure he'd have wanted Regulus's affection even if it had been offered. Regulus was…well…Narcissa had been right when she'd called him a freak. He was just so…bizarre.

And speaking of Regulus, where was the little grievance? Sirius looked up and down the table but couldn't see him anywhere.

"Father," he asked after Orion sat back down, finished dishing food to the others. "Where is Regulus?" There was enough mingled conversation going on around them that they were not greatly overheard, but Aunt Druella, both Lestrange brothers, Andromeda, and Walburga all flicked their eyes over to Sirius when he voiced his question.

"In his room," said Orion firmly. "Your brother has been nothing but a thorn in my side all week and I've had it. He'll not be having dinner with us tonight."

"Ah," Sirius nodded awkwardly. Unlike Rabastan, Regulus had not been planned for. Once certain they would be having a second boy, Sirius's parents had decided to keep him on the off-chance Sirius turned out to be a failure…or died or something along those lines. But Sirius had never wavered from damn near perfect in terms of obedience (with perhaps that bikini poster escapade being his one, ill-fated instance of rabble rousing) and Regulus was quickly deemed useless for that purpose. Now he was just kind of…there, not of any particular use to his parents or their family. The best he could hope for was to simply not cause any problems, and live in relative anonymity, but Sirius figured that ship had sailed nearly a decade ago. Regulus had been on his parents' nerves since he was old enough to talk, and the problem had only magnified when he'd started school. As a young child, they could get away with locking him up in Grimmauld Place with little exposure to the outside world (a practice that Sirius had always thought might have been slightly counter-productive); however, when he'd gotten his letter and slinked off to Hogwarts, people had…well, noticed him. The fact that their unpredictable ("And simply unacceptable!") second son was away at a boarding school well outside their immediate control where a number of people could see him, could talk rumors about his family…it irked Walburga and Orion, set their teeth constantly on edge.

Which wasn't to say they didn't still love their youngest. For all the fuss and bother, Sirius was sure either one of his parents would still take a curse for Regulus with no hesitation, as would he. They were family.

That didn't mean he had to like the little bugger, though.

"Will he be joining the party later tonight?" asked Andromeda curiously, seeming genuinely empathetic towards her cousin.

"Yes, I suppose so," Orion sighed. "I've informed him to join us at sunset, and he may still enjoy the evening, providing he holds that errant tongue of his."

"He ought not be allowed," commented Aunt Druella dryly. "You're far too soft with that boy, 'Ryan." She turned to Andomeda before continuing. "I've seen this one with him. It's just a few light smacks and then he shuts him up in his room. What the child needs is a proper beating—" her eyes left Andromeda, who was looking quite horrified by that point, and latched back on to Orion. "—as your parents would have done to you."

Orion nodded, humoring his sister in-law.

"Times change, Druella," said Walburga sensibly. There was a slight glint in her eyes, though, that suggested strong bodily harm would befall anyone with the gall to strike her child. A part of it was probably love; a bigger part of it was most certainly an automatic reaction to being told what to do. Blacks did not take too kindly to suggestions on how to live their lives.

"They certainly do, Walburga," said Druella with disdain, as though she were certain everything had changed for the worst.

"Oh don't be such a downer, Mother," said Narcissa, who had jutted into their conversation. "I'd say a lot has improved over the years!"

And so their conversation had segwayed into a discussion of Voldemort's regime. Sirius grumbled and sat back in his chair. He got enough of the Dark Lord during the work week thank you very much. He certainly didn't want to be talking about the man now. Besides, Sirius couldn't see much of a difference in his life since the Overtaking at the Ministry. It was truly of little consequence to him.

Sirius allowed his mind to wander all through the rest of dinner, until he was contentedly full and noticed Rodolphus weaving around the chairs collecting the empty dessert plates.

The backyard and patio were beautiful, Sirius had to admit, especially in the last rays of the dying sun. Magically rejuvenated May flowers were strung up along the ancient walls of the house, in the trees, and all around the lawn. There were burning torches and floating glass lights encircling the whole property. In the very center of the grass, an area had been cleared for the bonfire. When Sirius had been younger, there had been multiple fires, but over the years they had been merged into one for convenience, and the tradition of dousing all house fires and relighting them from the flames of the bonfire had been switched from the start of the evening to the very end; it was now the last thing to be done before everyone went to sleep for the night.

Sirius stood up to help Andromeda light the first of the flames. If he was going to be expected to jump over the bonfire, he'd prefer to do it when it was all still kindling and the risk of igniting was at a minimum.

When they had a good fire going, Andromeda stood back up and flung her wand in the air, shooting off fireworks. Slightly anachronous for a Beltane festival, but it was as good a starting pistol as any, and since when had they ever followed the rules perfectly, anyway? Sirius's father set the music playing and the night in full swing.

It was almost another hour into the party before Sirius finally saw his brother. Regulus was leaning against the stone side of the house, idly tearing the petals off a May flower while their father gestured to him, speaking angrily. Sirius disentangled himself from Narcissa's arms and moved closer.

"I mean it, Regulus, no more of your nonsense. Not tonight, not at all this weekend!"

"Yes, Dad," Regulus let the last of the bright petals twirl to the ground and then moodily smashed the flower's center between his fingers.

"Will you look at me when I'm speaking to you?"

Regulus looked up forlornly. "Dad, can I go back to my room?" he asked. "I don't want to be here, and you and Mum don't want me here. Besides, I was working on something…"

Orion grimaced. He looked angered by the notion that confining Regulus to his bedroom was less of a punishment than originally thought. Sirius personally thought that little fact was something his father should have caught on to years ago. "No, Regulus."

"Come on, please?" he insisted. He looked awfully depressed.

"Regulus one more whiny word and I'll be sending you back inside to one of the spare bedrooms and I can promise you you'll be feeling very sorry indeed."

Regulus sighed heavily. He looked about to argue further, but then he caught sight of Sirius and seemed to change his mind. "Okay," he said quietly, dropping his gaze.

Their father sighed. Tentatively, he reached forward and pulled Regulus to him by his sleeve. Regulus allowed himself to be peeled off the wall and situated in front of Orion.

"Are these the new robes your mother bought you?" Orion asked.

A nod.

"They look very good on you. You're getting so handsome now…have you had any of the ashes yet tonight?" he added when Regulus didn't respond to his compliment.

"No," said Regulus.

Orion nodded. "Well you'd better get some," he said, gently cupping Regulus's face for a moment to better look at his eyes. Regulus usually smeared his allotment of ash on and around his eyelids like liner and shadow. "It'll protect you, you know. Here, go dance with your brother," he said gruffly. He sent Regulus walking up to Sirius with a pat on the back.

Sirius associated Regulus with Grimmauld Place more than he did his own parents, and in that same curious manner as the house, Regulus too had not changed a micron since they'd last met months earlier. He never changed.

He was still almost a head shorter than Sirius, still skinny, still curiously tan for someone who rarely left his bedroom let alone the house. His eyes were a dark, stormy grey, his hair so black it shone almost blue in the right lights. Their father was right, his new robes did look good on him, hugging his body in just the right places, but they were also the one thing that didn't seem quite right. Regulus normally wore deep blue or green robes that he'd altered himself, bedazzled with dark black patterns and shining arm bands. He always stood differently when he was in the wrong clothing, carried himself awkwardly. Sirius had only seen such behavior in one other circumstance, and it was when Regulus had worn his school robes at Hogwarts.

Sirius glanced only once at his father and inclined his head briefly to the man as if to promise yeah, I've got him for a while; yes I promise I'll whack him if the need arises. Then he led Regulus back to the glow and warmth of the bonfire, a strange sense of calm floating around his insides where previously there had been only boredom and anxiety.

Regulus allowed himself to be led, and to his credit held still and silent while Bellatrix enthusiastically mixed some of the ash with a small vial of constituting potion and then smeared the concoction delicately around his eyes. The rest of Regulus's ash was sealed away in the small jar with his name on it and set it on the table in between Sirius's and Walburga's.

As was sort of his forte, Regulus didn't move or speak to Sirius at all, merely he stood there looking disinterestedly at the ground. Sirius made a frustrated noise in the back of his throat and yanked his brother close against his chest. He smelled unusually good, like incense and cherries. Sirius wondered what exactly Regulus had been messing around with up in his room.

Sirius looped one hand through his brother's and slid the other to the small of his back. At a moderate pace, he led them around the fire. Everyone else was preoccupied dancing, talking or snacking, so Regulus's lack of enthusiasm went mostly unnoticed. Eventually he did lean himself forward into Sirius's left shoulder, though, as if accepting defeat.

Two songs later Sirius was sick of pulling Regulus's dead weight around and so stopped moving. Instead he wrapped both arms around his little brother and griped, "I's not that bad dancing with me, so quit your moping. I know you don't want to be here, but I'll tell you a secret, neither do I. Now knock it off."

"Don't yell," complained Regulus. His voice was just as Sirius remembered it as well. Oddly distant and a little off, like he was constantly casting wandless, silent magic. "Just keep groping me for a few more minutes to make Dad happy, and then you can go back to impotently groping at our cousin."

There was the Regulus that Sirius remembered.

"Shut up, Regulus," hissed Sirius, tightening his grip on the younger boy. "I don't want to get into a fight, okay? So just…try to be pleasant and sociable tonight, all right? Or…shit, just be normal, okay? Can you do that? Be fucking normal?"

Oh Christ, he thought dismally. This must be exactly how Narcissa thinks…

"Anything for you, Sirius. I've been looking forward to seeing you, you know."

"Really?" Sirius scoffed. "Well I've not been wanting to see you, that's for sure."

Something like hurt might have flickered across Regulus's dark face, but it was gone immediately and he only shrugged. "Say what you want," he said. Andromeda and Narcissa went hurtling past them, flowers flying from their loose hair. Sirius and Regulus resumed their pseudo-waltz.

"Do you want to sneak out of here for a while?" asked Regulus when the next song ended and Sirius was looking like he was losing interest in dancing.

"Don't be stupid, Regulus, we're not going anywhere, and besides, you've not jumped the fire yet."

"I don't want to, and no one else has remembered that I haven't gone, look they've already added the second round of wood. The flames will be much too high to jump for hours now."

"Whatever," Sirius tore himself away from Regulus and his intoxicating scent. "I am…I am going to go and sit down at the table for a while with Aunt and Uncle. Go…do something quiet elsewhere."

Regulus followed him anyway. With a growl, Sirius grabbed him roughly by the arm and dragged him into the shadow of the large elm tree so they would be less obvious.

"Go, Regulus," he hissed. "I'm done with you for the night, okay?"

"Are you sure about that?" asked Regulus innocently. His breathing was rapid, though, as if he were concentrating very hard.

Sirius took several deep breaths to gather himself. "Yes," he insisted. "Now get lost," he pushed the flat of his hand hard against his brother's chest in an effort to force him backwards. His hand struck something hard.

"Ouch," Sirius muttered, shaking his hand. Regulus put a little smile on his face and made to turn away.

"Get back here," Sirius growled. He pulled Regulus back into the shadows and unclasped the front of his robes.

"Stop that," said Regulus tonelessly.

"Fucking shut up, Regulus," Sirius said. He splayed out his brother's robes to reveal the shirt beneath. It was very dark in their shaded corner, but enough light from the party struck them that Sirius could without a doubt make out the small emblem pinned snugly to his brother's chest. He'd seen it's likeness enough times at work to recognize it in an instant.

The phoenix writhing in the flames was the symbol of the resistance to the Dark Lord's rule. A small, pathetic rebellion constantly put down by the lowest of officers, but a threat nonetheless.

For a long time, Sirius only stared at Regulus's emotionless face.

"I've changed my mind," he said quietly, re-doing Regulus's robes. "Let's get out of here for a little while."

I've got this story all laid out. Hopefully the next chapters will be longer than this first little intro one!