A/N: A disclaimer: This is written for fun, not profit. I do not own anything except the plot.
The little brother, the better half of the two good looking sons. Always preferred by his parents, good and obedient.
Little brother, also, ironically, overshadowed. Their parents are too busy keeping an eye on their first born to pay him much attention. He wishes he had the courage to defy them, to do something, anything, to stand out for once.
Little brother, in love with his brother's girl.
It is such a cliché, that even Regulus has to laugh.
He sees her coming out of his brother's bedroom in the morning, blonde hair wild from -
No, he won't think about it.
He won't picture his brother's hands all over those creamy thighs peeking out from the frayed hem of his shirt. He won't imagine exactly how that bright purple mark on her neck was formed. And he most certainly won't fantasize about it that night, when he is alone in his bed. There is no way he will quietly moan out her name, trying to silence himself by furiously pressing his fist against his mouth.
/
"No, they are nothing like each other. You see, Grindelwald at least pretended to have the people's best interest at heart. He emphasized that he was doing everything for the Muggles' own good. "For the greater good", that was his slogan. The Dark Lord, on the other hand, claims nothing of the sort. He is all about the supremacy of the Purebloods. So, that's where you go wrong. You are making assumptions based on Grindelwald's techniques, while the Dark Lord follows a completely different route."
"You know what, Reg, I think you might be right."
Realization is evident on Marlene's face and she looks at him with a rare appreciation in her blue eyes and Regulus knows it is yet another cliché, but he swears he can feel something fluttering in his stomach.
Then Sirius breaks the brief silence with a mocking yawn and a roll of his eyes, and just like that, the moment is ruined.
"Oh for God's sake, enough with the politics. Who cares about comparing bad guy techniques ? If there is a war, we'll go fight for the good side, and that's it. Besides, I think it's kinda creepy how much you know about this fucked up shit, Reg." Sirius adds spitefully. "Let's talk about something that matters for a change, okay ? I mean, how awesome was the game last night ? We totally kicked the Tornados' ass !"
Marlene smiles at Regulus apologetically, but then she joins in the Quidditch talk enthusiastically, while Regulus is left to observe the way her eyes follow the movement of Sirius's lips and how she unconsciously licks her own and his brother smirks cockily.
The fluttering creatures in his stomach are murdered brutally with every word Sirius speaks. By the time they start making out on the bed and he quietly slips out the room, there is a fucking blood bath and not for the first time in his life, Regulus feels like he is capable of murder himself.
/
When he announces that he is joining the Dark Lord, he expects his brother to be mad. Really mad.
And he is. Completely, blindingly, murderously mad.
He slams him into the wall and presses his wand against his throat, saying how he would rather kill him than have a traitor for a brother.
After a moment, the burning light of anger in his eyes fades out, replaced by something cold and empty and sad, and he casts a curse Regulus does not recognize - that makes him sport painful boils for hours afterward - then storms out.
He also expects his parents to be proud. Clap him on the back for following in the footsteps of the "Ancient and Most Noble House of Black" and fight for the superiority of Purebloods.
But they are not proud.
His father does not say anything but his hands start shaking and he has to choke himself on Firewhiskey to steady them and avoid reacting.
His mother, on the other hand, has always been the bolder one and is not afraid to react at all. First, she calmly asks to see his Mark. When he hesitates, she draws her wand on him and her eyes have that crazed look so he peels back his sleeve and thrusts his arm forward.
She takes his arm in her hand, her fingernails lightly grazing his skin and stares at it for a whole moment.
Then she tries to cut it out.
Blood splatters everywhere and his father and brother together can barely contain her from slashing her wand across his arm again and again, shrieking insults and curses.
After they disarm her and shove Calming Drought down her throat, she whimpers something that suspiciously sounds like: "My son… My only son… What if that wretched Order… What if that wretched man himself… My only son…." and collapses on the floor, sobbing tearlessly. He can see that Sirius tries not to wince at the chant of "my only son".
Somehow, seeing their cold, emotionless mother like this is scarier than her wrath.
Regulus runs to the bathroom and retches, but nothing comes out.
/
He dreads seeing Marlene. He avoids it for days. But no one can run forever. Truth is like a slippery snake, forever squirming to get out. It is also a needy bitch and it demands confrontations and heartbreak.
She does not get angry or scream at him or curse him like his mother and brother did. Her disappointment is like his father's, quiet yet just as scorching, if not more.
Her blue eyes are filled with hurt and betrayal and a million questions and only one word softly comes out of her lips:
"Why ?"
Regulus cannot find the words to explain how he desperately needs to belong, to shine, to change the world. He wants to say he will find glory when his Lord establishes a new world order, but when he imagines himself saying it out loud, to her, the words that he has so much faith in, that sound so right in his head, seem stupid. Meaningless, even. A joke.
She places her hand on his arm and her fingers are so delicate and her skin is so soft and all of his blood rushes to that spot so fast that he feels dizzy and forgets to breathe for a moment.
"Please don't do it, Reg. I know you have taken the Mark." He flinches at the little catch in her voice as she says the word. "But it is never too late. The Order can protect you - hide you. You can provide information in exchange for your safety. Me and Sirius can vouch for you."
Even though he knows there can be no escaping, that you don't just hand in your resignation to the Dark Lord, as he listens to her soft, melodic voice, he can't help but want to believe her. Believe that everything can still be okay.
But the moment she utters his name, something in him snaps and furiously he grabs her wrist and pulls her to himself, crushing his lips to hers.
Her lips are soft and unmoving against his. Still, he runs his tounge over them, desperately hoping she will give in and kiss him back. She tastes pure, like lavender and mercy and sugar quills.
She gently places her hands on either side of his face and his heartbeat quickens with hope but she pulls back and all he is left with is darkness and the need to break something beautiful.
She parts her lips and he already knows what she is going to say. He cannot bear hearing his name coming from her lips again, so he cuts her off:
"My mind is set, Marlene. I'm in the Dark Lord's service now. I've chosen my side, and you have chosen yours. So… goodbye."
With that, he rushes out, trying to block out the image of her face looking up at him with pity from his mind.
Later that day, he commits his first murder as a Death Eater.
/
He has always liked Travers. He is a handsome, charming fellow with a lilting drawl that makes the girls melt. The dirty, Death Eater groupie type of girls, that is.
He is easy to be around, always hosting nights of poker and debeauchery in his large, expensive house. He is one of those stereotypical, rich, spoilt yet witty and loyal-to-his-friends type of guys you see in movies.
Or would be, if he weren't also a Death Eater. Meaning he is a murderer and a rapist.
Well, he is still loyal, Regulus supposes. To the Death Eaters, that is.
Having done his own share of terrible deeds, he is willing to overlook these minor faults of Travers and the two have always been as friendly as people like them are capable of being.
So when, through his haze of grief and guilt, he hears that Travers was involved in her death, he feels blood pounding in his ears.
He slams him against the door and places the tip of his wand at his pulse point.
"Woah, Reg, mate, what's wrong ?" Travers laughs, seemingly unfazed by being held at wand point by his supposed best friend.
"Is it true ?" He snarls. "Was it you ? Did you kill her - them ?"
"Did I kill who, mate ? I've probably killed half a dozen scum today, and that is only after noon." He laughs again.
"The McKinnons !" He screams, spit flying in Travers's face. "Did you kill them ?"
Travers's eyes narrow suspiciously. "So what if I did, mate ? Why do you care what happens to a low life like her ? I mean, I know you used to have a thing for the girl, but you told me you were over it. You are over it, right ?"
So what if you did ?! If you did kill them, I will rip out your guts and feed them to you, that's what, his mind screams. But his words ring through his body like a fire alarm:
He shouldn't care. He cannot let them know he cares about blood traitors like McKinnons. Or he will be dead too. And he is determined not to die before avenging her.
So he forces himself to back away.
As he storms out without a word, he hears Travers call after him:
"Just because I like you, I'm not gonna say anything. Just this time, Black. But I'll be watching you - make another mistake, and the Dark Lord will hear about this !"
/
Sirius doesn't even bother to draw his wand. He punches him straight in the nose, throwing him backwards on the ground.
"I will only ask this once, and you will tell me the fucking truth. Did you have anything to do with it ?" He bellows, his face is contorted with rage and his eyes have the same crazed look their mother sometimes has.
Regulus simply stares at his brother for a second, then as he sees his hand fly at his wand, he finally speaks:
"I loved her, Siri."
Maybe it is how broken his voice sounds. Maybe it is the fact that he used the nickname he called him by when they were little kids. Or maybe it is simply because
he can see truth shining out of his eyes, along with his tears.
Whatever the reason, Sirius believes him. He can see it in his eyes as he lowers his hand back down and drops to his knees. Now that he doesn't have anger and revenge to cling to, he looks defeated and broken. Regulus assumes he looks the same.
Sirius's head drops forward and Regulus can hear a choked sob escaping his lips, even though - judging by his clenched fists - he must be fighting not to make a sound, not to let his little brother see him in a vulnerable state.
But Regulus is done pretending. He is done putting up walls and always trying to prove he is stronger, braver, better than his brother.
He crawls over to him and grabs his hand like he hasn't done since he was six years old and would go crawling to his bed when he had nightmares.
"Siri." He pleads softly and he can feel tears pricking his eyes. "I'm so - I need - I have to get out. Please, help me."
Sirius doesn't raise his head, but he squeezes his hand back. They stay like that for what feels like an eternity, and finally Sirius looks up.
His eyes are still shining with tears but there is also a renewed fire in them.
"I will help you, Reg. I will get you out even if it is the last thing I do."
With that, he pulls him into a fierce hug. Regulus drops his head on his brother's shoulder and allows him to soothe his baby brother's nightmares again, and soothe his own demons as well, chanting "I will get you out." over and over, his breath hot and comforting against his ear.
That night, he falls asleep with his brother for the first time in thirteen years and the world feels like a more hopeful place, like as long as his big brother is there for him, nothing can harm him.
For that one night, the world feels like it did when he was six.
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