Summary: Regulus has something to say to his brother.
A/N: I have to point out that this is a really old piece of shit. I originally wrote this in Finnish about three years ago. I haven't put this up earlier because I don't necessarily like this too much (and it's full of mistakes), but I thought what the hell, let them judge it, it's weird piece of work anyways. So it seems I'm putting this up and you should be kind enough to tell me what you think? It doesn't have to be anything fancy. I'm not too picky about comments :)
Disclaimer: As you know, Rowling owns both of the Black brothers and I have no chance of getting my hands on either one of them, no matter how much I'd like to.
White Flag
In the corner of the nocturnal street, a lonely man was standing in his a dark cloak. He tried his best to look nonchalant and indifferent while hanging around the shadows of the narrow alley. The night mixed with his cloths and dark hair, hiding him from a naked eye. Only steaming breath and heavy footprints on the pure snow could have given him away. But he didn't care. Said he wasn't afraid of the dark.
A few small rocks clattered down the paving due to a feeble kick. The man in the shadows moved just so little, only sharp-eyed could have seen. He inhaled heavy air into his lungs and took a sluggish step towards the lighter side of the street. He was about to leave.
"Sirius."
It was more of a statement than a 'hello', but it got the man to stagnate and he turned slowly in the direction where the voice had come.
"Regulus," he noted to the shadows with equally emotionless tone.
Both were quiet for a moment but the second boy didn't step off from the comfort of the darkness.
"You came," he said instead, and his voice was showing things it clearly wasn't allowed to. Maybe it was relief or hope; you could never tell. "So, you are not afraid I'm gonna kill you?" he continued laughing smoothly, as if it was only a small-talk, but Sirius got the feeling, he was trying to cover up his slip.
"Are you kidding me? If you were gonna kill me, you would've tried already. You haven't ever been the type to waste time talking, let alone thinking."
Cold statement got an equal welcoming when a hollow laugh filled the dead corners of the street. Though, soon the silence crowned itself to the king of the night again and Sirius thrust his hands surreptitiously in his pockets. Regulus took advantage of the situation and stepped carefully closer to his brother.
"You haven't known me for years. What if you're wrong?"
"When it comes to the two of us, you're the one whose lottery ends up losing more often," he said seeking his brothers' night-darker eyes from the shadow. "I take my chances."
"So took dad, too."
It was Sirius' turn to laugh. "And he is related to this how?"
"It was your fault, you know."
The boy standing in light shrugged thoughtlessly. "He could go to Mungo. I'm not guilty for anything."
"Stop being ridiculous. We both know, for him, Mungo is a straight ticket to Azkaban," Regulus snarled moving his weight from a leg to another.
"It's still not my fault. I wasn't the one to decide my family should be full of narrow-minded murderers," Sirius exclaimed with a fully calm voice and left the silence judge the battle between two eyes.
"Well, at least we haven't killed our own fathers, unlike you."
Something foul moved inside Sirius' stomach. It took him a second or two before he realize to cover up his stunned expression. Killed? He was… dead? Unnoticed, Sirius' hands squeezed into fists inside his pockets. He didn't care about his father, right? He wasn't interested. Why Regulus had even told him? It should have been clear to him that anything what happened to his so-called family didn't matter to Sirius at all. Sirius bit his teeth together and tried to hide his anger from his brother. What on earth would he have against the death of one old lunatic? The world would only be a better place without one arrogant, twisted and truly heartless death eater. Without his all affront, condemnation and prejudices. Without one soulless mass murderer: without his father.
"So, you say Sauron is finally defeated?" Sirius stated with an inscrutable tone. He knew it was stupid to pull those Lily's muggle-stories into the conversation, but he also knew how much Regulus hated when he didn't have a clue what his big brother was talking about. So this would have to do. At least Sirius found some use for those stories.
"You killed him, Sirius."
Anger tired to find its way to the surface from somewhere deep inside of him. He had killed nobody.
"My feet aren't overly hairy and so far I haven't dropped any ring into the volcano, so I hate do disappoint you, but I'm not your hero."
"It was you, who lost his patience back then."
A dry laugh which Sirius didn't recognized to his own, escaped from his lips. The coldness of the laugh stayed on the corners of the street for a few seconds too long and for once Sirius didn't know how to bee. He rolled his head over his neck, trying his best to avoid Regulus' cold eyes which drilled too deep inside his own. Regulus was wrong, the brat always was, but knowing it didn't seem to ease the furor slowly growing at the top of Sirius' throat.
"Oh, so you're saying there can actually be a decent conversation with you?" He stated aiming for as amused tone of voice as possible. How come he should care about his father? It wasn't like his father ever cared about his little blood-traitor either. Sirius had no reason to feel bad. The whole family had been dead to him for many years, why should an actual death be any different?
"You pushed him," younger boy continued his exclaims with perfectly serene pace, ignoring his brothers defamations. In passing, Sirius noticed that Regulus had stepped closer to him. Not much, but just so it could be noticed. "The stroke was entirely your fault."
Sirius pressed his lips tight together and tired to keep his voice flat. Even if his throat was burning, he wouldn't lose this fight. Not tonight.
"And I should care because…?"
The brother was quiet for a moment as his little too composed eyes finally found their pair and challenged them for the battle. They were fighting an elegant, calm and yet the most charged fight either one had never experienced.
"Well, maybe you are Black after all."
Regulus' voice cracked bitterly as he said the last words and Sirius' head was spinning. It wasn't his fault. Regulus was wrong, so dreary wrong, as the brother had always been. He just couldn't see it himself. Regulus lived in his own little bubble where everything was mixed up and wrong, in the world where nothing was real or valuable. Brother lived so deep in his own black-and-white that he couldn't understand the things that really mattered. No one of the death eaters could. Regulus was just a prisoner of everything he had been told since he was a little kid. The worst part was he never did anything to fight himself out of it. It was all just the same for him. That was the part Sirius felt a bit sorry for, but that after all this years, Regulus dared to claim Sirius was just the same shit with the rest of his family, was too much. It wasn't the way things had ever been. Regulus would never be able to understand, what it was like to actually have an opinion which was worth of standing by; what was it like, to be ready to die for the truth and justice. And that was the core of his repressiveness: Regulus never comprehended anything worth dying for. For the Black family, immortality was more important than living. And Sirius wouldn't ever be Black. Not for himself, not for his brother and not for anyone.
Sirius felt the hate burning inside him. It was running through his veins faster than he had imagined. The hate towards everything he had once left behind and towards what was now standing right before him, fully alive. He didn't want to hear about his father and still Regulus had told. He didn't want to hear how his ex-family was doing and still that annoying little scum was looking at him right in the eyes. He didn't want to know anything. Most of all, he didn't want to care, to feel anything, and the anger that was now finding its place under his skin, was everything else but nothing.
It was all Regulus' fault. All was his fault.
Not thinking any further on, Sirius placed his brothers' figure in the darkness and jumped straight ahead, tackling the younger boy in the ground with the first attempt. For once, it felt good. Sirius got to give back all the things he had kept inside for so long. All the pain and the contempt; all the things, he didn't want to remember.
Nevertheless, Regulus was fast on the game. He grabbed Sirius' collar and tried to tear older brother off him who was already on a good speed mangling Regulus' face to a new shape. But Sirius misjudged his brother's way of playing the game and wasn't prepared for the kick targeted into a place where you are not allowed to kick in a fair game. It was Sirius' turn to get beat up.
The positions changed many times over, while boys stained their cloths equally in the one and only blood and past day's scuffed snowdrift. Both gave and took punches which slowly started to lose their meaning. Boys took out all the years' disagreement, pain and quilt into each other, counting on the only thing they had left; the only thing that felt real between them. Though, the goal of the fight was blurry for both of them, the pride of their common blood didn't allow either one to be first to stop.
It took a while before the other grew up and gave in.
Regulus laughed out dryly and loosened his grip from the Auror Academy's coat, when Sirius forced him to fall again to the contaminated snow. Elder boy froze as he noticed the sudden change happening in his fighting partner. Was that a real smile on Regulus' face? Sirius snorted in disbelief and didn't even realize to hide his confusion. He lowered his fist down slowly and, astonished, looked down at the younger, only slightly different, version of himself. That version's face bled bad time and the corner of his eye was ripped. Still he managed to stretch those bloody and broken lips into amused smile. By passing, Sirius figured he must have looked just the same and a wide grin rose on his lips too. He picked up the rest of his spent powers and rolled on the ground next to his brother. As from mutual agreement, they started laughing, totally forgetting all the hatred and inequality that has so many years lain between them. In the end those things didn't matter. They were still brothers and it wouldn't be too late to fix that.
"I'm sorry, Sirius," younger one sighed after the laugh had subsided and somehow Sirius got the feeling he wasn't talking only about the fight. "You won."