Author's note: Sirius Black is my all time favourite character from Harry Potter, so this has been a long time coming, because I wanted to do it justice. This takes place after fifth year - but you don't need me to tell you that, do you? I may have tweaked Regulus's character a bit, but I wanted him to be the supportive little brother, and you know, that idea of their relationship always gives me heartache. I may have also switched the timeline around a bit, so the prank with Snape seeing Remus has just happened. My apologies. I really enjoyed writing this, so I hope you enjoy reading it. Please review?

Disclaimer: I do not own this stuff- sadly.

Home is where the heart is

(3rd person)

Another yell of hatred, another magical punch and five minutes later Sirius Black was sitting in his room spitting blood out of his mouth and wondering bitterly how he had ever come to have parents as horrible as these. He collapsed back onto his bed, the ancient item groaning under the weight. Sirius wasn't fat like Peter; in fact, he was rather malnourished, but the bed was another thing in the dark-magic-infested Black household that was rickety and probably was made a thousand years ago. At least, in this room, he was surrounded by pictures of his best mates, and not dead house-elf heads. Of all the Slytherinesque, pureblood-maniac things his family did, decapitating house-elves would have to be one of the worst. The door creaked and Sirius shot up holding his wand. It was only Regulus. Carrying a tray of food… Sirius leapt up from the bed and hurried to take the tray.

"Thanks, Reg." His brother smiled thinly.

"Don't worry. Although, when you're done, slide the tray across to my room. Mother thinks it's for me." Sirius nodded to show he understood, then began wolfing down the food Reg had given him. He heard the door close slowly, like his brother was leaving him in peace. He understood. Poor Reg wasn't as tough or stubborn as he was, and he longed for his mother to love him and care for him, so he tried his best in Slytherin. The idiot was even thinking of joining Voldemort. He cursed his brother for being so soft. Then he looked down at his plate, realised he had finished (mostly), gulped down the last remnants - he wasn't sure when he would next eat - opened his door quietly and slid the tray over to Reg's room.

Then he wandered back to his room, locked his door and tried to pick out all the glass fragments of the mirror that his so-called 'mother' had thrown at him today.

Sirius had been lying on his bed, trying to find a comfortable position with his many cuts and bruises, when the current detested house-elf, Kreacher, opened the door.

"Mistress and Master wish to see Sirius Black at the dining table." he whispered in that croaky, malicious voice of his. Sirius could vaguely remember having another house-elf, Kreacher's mother, most likely. She had been just as annoying. He nodded, almost imperceptibly, and started pulling his t-shirt on. He didn't like Kreacher watching him, so he sent him away. He looked longingly at his favourite leather jacket, wanting to wear it because it would wind his mum up so much she might allow him to eat his dinner in his room. But, he concluded, it would probably get ripped when they punished him. That was inevitable. His long hair and red and gold t-shirt that James got him for Christmas last year would have to do. He felt a pang as he thought of James. His best friend hadn't forgiven him yet for the prank he played on Snape. It was killing Sirius that James didn't want to talk to him, but he knew it wouldn't help if he got pushy. At least Peter and Remus had forgiven him, especially Remus. Grimacing, Sirius pushed all thoughts of his friends out of his mind and sauntered down for dinner, trying not to think about what was probably going to happen to him, and why his parents had called him down in the first place.

Silence was a thick, hairy blanket over the family at the dinner table. Orion was sitting stiffly, as though a wooden stake had been jammed up his spine. Walburga, the hag that she was, kept flicking her eyes between Sirius and Regulus, as if comparing the two boys' many differences. Both of them kept their eyes on their plates, and the only sound was the scraping of knives and forks. That was, until Orion broke the silence with his crisp, stern voice.

"We got your reports today." Sirius froze. There was bound to be something on there that his parents found fault in, and they usually blamed him. This was going to be rough.

"Regulus, well done in your subjects, the teachers are very pleased with you. You, however…" Sirius grimaced. After five years, he had no doubt who his father was talking to.

"How many detentions did you receive this year? Please, inform me." Sirius gulped.

"Um… 34."

"34 detentions?" His mother screeched shrilly. "34 DETENTIONS? No wonder his grades are substandard."

"I'm sorry, I didn't realise that 9 O's in my O. were substandard."

A hush fell across the table. No one, and that means no one, had ever answered back to the Black parents. Walburga was slowly turning purple with rage and flicked her wand to give Sirius several good, hard thwack around the eyes and cheeks, Sirius wincing all the while. This would hurt when he got up tomorrow. Suddenly, Orion held up a hand, his face almost as pale as Voldemort's, and held up an elegant, indifferent hand. His wife immediately stopped her torture, and Sirius massaged his already bruising face.

"I will take care of him." If possible, Sirius became even more scared. He had never had his father punish him before. He saw out of the corner of his eye Reg's eyes widen in shock as well as his father dragged Sirius by his ear out into the living room, and threw him in a corner roughly. This again shocked Sirius, since his family never touched the 'dirty blood traitor' if they could help it, they always used magic to abuse him. If they accidently brushed past him in the corridor - which was a rare occurrence since Sirius tried hard to stay in his room his entire life and they always flattened themselves against the wall when he came out - they would wash the offending bit of skin. He was starting to worry. His father turned to face him, breathing heavily through his nostrils, eyes narrowed in disgust and dislike.

"You are about to find out what happens to troublemakers and miscreants in this household. Maybe a little pain would do you some good," he snarled, and swung his wand at Sirius. And before he knew it, he was screaming.

(Author's note: We've heard what the Cruciatus curse feels like many times, so I won't go over it again.)

(Regulus's POV)

Later that night, I opened the door to find my older brother huddled in the same, now bloodstained corner that our father had hurled him in, sobbing uncontrollably. At first, Sirius didn't notice me come in, nor see my eyes widen, but he felt the reassuring arm put gently around his shoulders, and looked up with tear-stained cheeks and broken eyes. It physically hurt me to see my brother like this.

"Sssh, ssh Siri, it's going to be okay, I promise." I whispered soothing words as I examined my brother's various injuries with differing amounts of shock and horror. Sirius's clothes were covered in blood, and torn from where the Sectumsempra curse had been inflicted on him. His skin was angry and red, and a black eye was already forming, swelling his eye shut. I felt sick. I'd heard what the Cruciatus curse did to people, but it was another thing to see the results. I looked into my brother's silvery eyes, eyes girls often went dreamy about, and realised two things: Siri would never be happy here, and that there was only one person who could help him now. I slid my arm round Siri's back and hoisted him up, grimacing at his weight. Even though Siri barely ate when he was here, his Beater's build didn't make him the lightest person to carry, and since I was a Seeker, I was small and light, not used to lugging my brother around. Another thing hit me, another reason why Siri couldn't stay here: if anyone saw him like this at Hogwarts, they'd be furious, and trying to help him, and I knew Siri hated that kind of attention, from experience. I managed to hold my brother up all the way to the broom shed, where I found his broom. I quickly and quietly ran upstairs, hesitating before his door. I hadn't really been inside his room before. Pushing aside any qualms, I took a look around, before picking up a few of his possessions - his school trunk with all his school stuff in it, and a few of the pictures with his friends that he hadn't permanently stuck on his wall yet, the key to his vault in Gringotts, and his treasured leather jacket. I ran back outside to find Siri slumped against the wall of the broom shed. I could only imagine what pain he was going through. I strapped his stuff to his broom, helped him get on it, and whispered to him,

"Fly to the Potters', and get them to help you. Tell them what happened." He looked at me, with an almost defeated look to his eyes. Almost. Because I knew my brother would be back to how he was at school soon enough.

"Thanks, Reg." he muttered. "I won't forget you." Then he kicked off, albeit very weakly, and flew into the night. I sneaked back inside, and crept back into bed, waiting for morning. Sirius was still my brother - he may live in a different house, he might hang around with a completely different group of friends, he might usually ignore me, but he would always be there in the hospital wing after a nasty crash in Quidditch, he would always be pulling his most evil pranks on people who'd been nasty to me, he would always sneak a present signed S.O.B. into the Slytherin dorms, like I did for him. Because no matter what, Sirius was still my brother. And he was always there.

(3rd Person again)

Sirius wobbled his way to Godric's Hollow, trying very hard to keep on his broom. After five minutes he gave up, and headed towards the ground. He checked what he had, and was pleased to find he had a Galleon in his pocket. He hailed the Knight Bus. It was a relatively quick way of getting around, and he knew the folks on there wouldn't talk if he asked them not to. The purple triple-decker bus careened around the corner and came to a stop in front of him. Ernie, its conductor, a acne-infested nineteen-year-old who'd been a Hufflepuff three years ahead of the Marauders, jumped out then stared at him in shock. Sirius pressed the Galleon into his hand, croaked "Potter Household, Godric's Hollow, please." and stumbled up the bus. Merlin, he sounded like Kreacher. Ernie followed with his huge trunk and possessions, including his broom, still staring. With a bang, they were immediately thundering down James's street. All Sirius could think of was 'He's going to forgive me, he's going to forgive me,' echoing around his head. He truly hoped that James would forgive him for the wicked prank he had pulled on Snape that nearly got Snivellus killed - James hadn't been talking to him on the train home, and hadn't sent him a single letter. The bus heaved to a stop in front of James's house, and Sirius tottered down the steps, suddenly feeling light headed from blood loss. He thanked Ernie, and stumbled down the path, dragging his trunk. He knocked sharply on the door, then realised it was about half past midnight. No one in their right mind would be up at this time, but to his surprise the door was opened by Mrs Potter, in her dressing gown. Sirius thanked Merlin, as he remembered Mrs Potter was a Healer.

"Sirius! What are you doing round here at this time of night? I've just been finishing a report on-" she gasped as Sirius' injuries were thrown into sharp relief as he stepped into the light flooding from the house. "Come in dear, let me get you a blanket, you can sleep on the sofa, it might not be the most comfortable but as of this moment we haven't got a spare bed. I mean, honestly, who- who did this to you?" She finished, sounding rather indignant. Sirius sighed.

"My father." Mrs Potter's mouth dropped open in rage. She slid an arm around Sirius's shoulders and led him inside, before swamping him in a blanket. Sirius folded down onto the sofa, and for the first time in the harrowing night, closed his eyes to go to sleep.

When James awoke in the morning, it was to see his mother sitting on the end of his bed, wringing her hands and looking rather anxious. This was strange, especially since James had woken up at 9 'o'clock - not an unruly time. When she saw he was awake, she pounced.

"James, dear, we had a visitor last night." James perked up. Visitors sometimes meant presents.

"Who?"

"Sirius, dear." James felt his throat constrict at the mention of his ex-best friend. How dare Sirius? He knew James hated him at the moment, after that ridiculous prank he'd played on Snape. He'd betrayed their trust. His trust. He jumped out of bed, furious, determined to tell Sirius just what exactly was going through his mind.

"Well, I'm going to tell him to go away." James stomped out of bed, ignoring his mother's cry of "James, darling, no!" However, he stopped short at the sight of Sirius on the sofa.

Sirius had, in the night, kicked off the blanket, revealing all his many cuts and bruises and tattered clothing. James felt tears well up in his eyes. He'd never seen his friend like this. As if he could sense James standing there in horrified shock, Sirius opened his bleary eyes, which snapped open at the sight of James. He leapt up.

"Prongs, mate, I'm really sorry, but I couldn't stay there anymore, and I had nowhere else to go, and I'm really sorry about the prank, I was idiot, and I-" He was cut short by James grabbing him into a bear hug. Sirius' eyes closed, and tears trickled at an alarming rate into James' clothes. Soon, James put Sirius at arm's length, a mutinous expression on his face.

"What did they do?" Sirius shrugged.

"A bit of Cruciatus, a bit of Sectumsempra, I couldn't really hear over myself screaming." James pulled him into a hug again. Muffled by his face buried in James' clothing, Sirius asked, "Prongs, can I stay here?" Too overcome by his jumbled emotions, James merely nodded. They were soon joined by Mr and Mrs Potter, and the four stayed in a hug for quite some time. Sirius remembered his brother, and hoped he was alright, and would continue to be. Unbeknownst to him, in London, at 13 Grimmauld Place, Regulus wished the same thing.