A/n: Just a note, Reg isn't supposed to be pronounced like you're saying Reggie, but like if you cut the -ulus off of Regulus. And Sir is pronounced like you're just taking the -ius off his name instead of addressing him with the formality (in this story they are anyways). So, that's settled…on to the disclaimer Disclaimer: Why is this even necessary? I obviously DO NOT own
Of Red Lines on Arms and Some Hope
Although everyone believes it to be so, Sirius never stops loving his brother. And Regulus never stops loving his brother right back. Whether they like each other or not is a completely different matter, but as the younger Black gets sorted to Slytherin, receives his Dark Mark, and steals the locket, he can think of nothing but how disappointed, furious, and proud his brother would be with him in those respective moments.
~1972 Reg (it's what his brother calls him), swallows the lump of fear that's growing in his throat. Evidently he's not courageous, or else he would have glared defiantly back at Bella (as he's sure Sirius did two years ago). He's smart but not "Slytherin!" The Sorting Hat screams out through the Great Hall. Regulus is happy, of course he is, but at the same time, there's a sour feeling in his stomach, mouth, He looks away swiftly, and takes a seat next to Bella. By the end of the night, Regulus sincerely hopes that no one notices the rake marks on his own arms. ~1976 Fifteen and scared shitless, Regulus nearly passes out when he gets the Dark Mark. It hurt more than anything he could ever fathom, and when it's over, he's just happy he didn't cry, vomit, or wet himself. All his friends are patting him on the back and saying that he handled better than they did (though he had screamed like a two year old the whole time so he assumes it's just niceties). Two days later he goes back to Hogwarts, and his two friends that were in the compartment with him leave when they hear the furious voice of Lily Evans yelling something about 'that being a joke' from the Heads Compartment. Regulus could care less, so he stays where he is and stares out the window. A few minutes later, he hears his compartment door open and "Reg." He doesn't need to turn to recognize his own brother's voice, and just as coolly responds with "Sir." "James's having a row with Evans right now, Remus is asleep, and Peter is, well, Peter, and, well, I haven't seen you or spoken to you in a while." "And now you're doing both. Congratulations." "Reg, I'm sorry. It's not-" Regulus had abruptly turned towards him at his words. "That's brilliant." He spat out. "Really bloody brilliant. You're sorry. You abandoned me! Purposefully! What could you have to possibly be sorry about?" "I didn't abandon you, Reg. I couldn't live there anymore. And, anyway, it's not like you lot aren't infinitely happier without me!" "Well I'm not!" Sirius falls silent and stares at his little brother, who's now standing face to face with him (somewhere in the back of his mind, he notes that Reg is so much taller than the last time they saw each other back in the last day of Sixth year). "Baby brother," It's not something Sir calls him often, usually reserved for mocking, taunting, or their rare touchingly brother moments, but from the crack in his voice and the glaze in his eyes, he can tell it's not the first two, "I didn't mean- You never told me. You always seemed so angry at me." "And I was the ray of sunshine in your life I'm sure." He bit, though the words were half-assed. "And you never asked anyways." His voice crack matches his brother's and he's sure their eyes are twins right now. "But who'd wanna stay with his fifteen year old brother that still comes into his room during a thunderstorm?" Reg results to marking up his arms again by raking his right hand down the top of his left forearm. He absolutely refuses to cry in front of his big brother. "I would," He responds quietly, "even if he is a Slytherin." The two brothers smile at each other, and Sir looks down as to clear his own eyes when his body goes rigid when he sees the pushed up sleeve on his brother's left arm and what it reveals. "Or a death eater, though I'd assume Master'd be upset when he finds out one of his followers is fraternizing with the enemy." The last part comes out cold and cruel, as it's supposed to, and Reg realizes that the look his brother is giving him is pure, unadulterated fury. "Can you not judge me for one day of your life?" "You're one of them! The fuck, Regulus? I thought, bloody hell, I thought you'd maybe turn out okay! I can't even-" "What? Consider yourself my brother anymore? Great! Bloody fantastic! It isn't as if Potter hadn't filled up that position already!" "He has nothing to do with this!" "He has everything to do with this! You left Regulus's back is up against the window before he can blink and Sirius's hand forcefully keeps him there by pressing roughly on the top of his breastbone. His mouth comes right up to his ear, and he's dangerously quiet. "This," Sirius grabs his brother's left arm with his right, and contorts it in a way that the dark mark is showing, "is not my fault or my best mate's. This was entirely your decision. Goddamn. Take responsibility for once in your life. You're just as slimy as the rest of your house." Regulus isn't sure if he's talking about Slytherin or the Black family, though he knows it's probably both. The disdain is still evident in his brother's eyes and body language when Marlene McKinnon walks by their compartment, and what a blessing it is, as Reg thinks his brother's about to murder him. She's in their compartment and yanking Sirius back by the collar of his robes in a second flat. Sir stumbles back and he gives a curt nod to the blonde yelling at him. "Regulus," He's not 'Reg' or 'baby brother' anymore, but Sirius's voice sounds like it's about to crack again, "You're still my brother, and I still love you, but-" "Yeah, I get it." And he did. He could never be on amicable terms with his brother again, but they were still blood, and they didn't hate each other, just what the other stood for. Marlene glances nervously between the two brothers and gently pulls Sirius out of the compartment before anything else can start. Regulus raked his arms for the rest of the train. He bled, but trivial things like that didn't really matter anymore. ~ 1979 When Sirius gets word that his brother died, he doesn't know what to think. By the time he even receives word that he died trying to abandon and revolt against Voldemort, his arms are an angry shade of red, and hours after that news, they're raw and bleeding. The last time they had spoken to each other was on the train ride to Hogwarts three years ago which though had not ended hatefully had not ended nicely either. A week later, a package arrives on his door step, and though he doesn't know for sure who delivers it, he has a great suspicion that Kreacher (the twat) is the one who does it. There's nothing in the package but a letter. Sirius unfolds it and prepares himself for he's not sure what, but reads anyways.
Eleven year old Regulus Black glances between the four tables as he feels thousands of eyes boring into his body and a hat boring into his soul. The first thing he sees is his brother at the Gryffindor table. He looks hopeful, that maybe his baby brother won't end up like the rest of the family. Then he sees Bella at the complete opposite of the hall (most likely purposely as far as she could get from Sirius, or vice versa); she's glaring at him threateningly as if to say that he better not get sorted anywhere else.
Big Brother,
I don't know where to start, except to say that, if you're reading this, I'm probably dead.
You were right about it all. It's not an excuse, but I was young and stupid and I didn't know the severity of things to come. I'm sure you're glad to hear that. Merlin knows that if there's one thing we have in common (aside from our devilishly good looks and charm) it's that we're both pig-headed and stubborn to a fault and hearing people say "you're right" is almost as far up there as snogging Daisy Brown in a supply closet (which was bloody fantastic by the way). There isn't a lot I can say about why I'm dead (since I don't know at this time how I'll die), but I can tell you that the Dark Lord was trying to make himself immortal. No one should have that power. It's not human.
I can tell you, though, why I'm writing to you and not someone else. Frankly, Sir, you're the only person who loved me. Mum and Dad saw us a heirs, and I'm certain that none of my school mates (or other acquaintances, shall we say) were particularly capable of love. Do you remember that one time on the train my first year? You ditched your best mates to sit with me so I wouldn't be scared of the thunderstorm. That's probably the nicest thing anyone's ever done for me. I make my strongest Patronuses with that memory. Oh man, do I sound like a bird. There's nothing I could add to this to make me sound even remotely masculine, so moving on.
You said you'd always love me, no matter what, and I'm not seeking approval, but I want you to know that I never stopped loving you either. I never said that on the train. Marlene (who I heard had quite a lovely time in the broom closet before every Gryffindor match) was there and I'm certainly no Gryffindor, so I froze. Again, it's not an excuse; I just wanted you to know.
Sirius, I know I disappointed you first year, and I know you couldn't even look at me fifth year, but I hope you're finally proud of me. I finally got the courage to stand up for something (better late than never I suppose), and I hope you're proud of me. I understand if you're not because, well, let's be honest, I don't really deserve it. You were always the more brilliant, handsome, charming, etc. brother (are you buttered up yet?). Completely honest though, I'm not trying to illuminate myself as a martyr for the cause or some shit like that ('cause Merlin knows you'd probably think less of me if I did that), but having the only person who ever loved me be proud of me would be nice.
Anyways, I have to go now. I hope this letter's never sent as I'd rather like to be one of those pairs of brothers who are in their nineties and argue about who was the better looking one 'back in the day' (it's me, by the way). It's a silly idea, but not a completely terrible one.
Love,
Your baby brother
Far be it from his brother to ever be serious for once in his life (Sirius cracked a smile at that joke between them). Even in farewell letters he was painfully nonchalant. He himself wasn't particularly known for being somber, but at least his death letters (the Order liked to have you write letters to loved ones in case of a sudden 'departure') didn't mention who (Sirius) shagged who (Marlene) in a broom closet in a disgusting locker room before matches (unless you counted the one to James and Lily, but that was only because they caught them while looking for their own place to have 'private time'). As much as Sirius would grumble about his brother's lack of solemnity, he truly didn't mind. It was who his baby brother was and who he would always be, even if he did follow tradition and fall into bad company. But he got out. Something welled in his chest at that. Happiness, elation, ecstasy? No. Pride? Yeah. Sirius Black was proud of his baby brother.
Finito
A/n: Crap on a cracker I have not written in forever. I'm actually feeling a little proud of myself. Anyways…I hope you like this enough to review, and even if you don't you should review anyways. I'm so shameless 3