for musical chairs, genre hurt/comfort

for jenga, word 'excpectation'

word count: 1340 by Google Docs

i present to a story I posted on ffn desktop site, while on my phone oh my god

It was a week after the Easter holidays finished and Sirius was in a bad mood. Well, even more of a bad mood than usual.

"Mate?" James asked timidly. Sirius responded with a scowl. "You okay?"

"Of course I'm okay," he snapped, getting up. "I'm going to go and find my brother." Sirius huffed out of the room and Janes turned to Remus, who knew him best.

"His brother? I thought they weren't speaking since, y'know." James motioned to his left arm, indicating where a Dark Mark would be for a Death Eater. Remus looked at James over the book he was reading, raised an eyebrow, shrugged and returned to his book

Sirius was in a bad mood because he was worried about his brother. They didn't talk much, especially not since Regulus became a Death Eater and Sirius had run away from home, but Sirius had seen absolutely zero sign of him for the entire week since the holidays. He wasn't in the Great Hall for meals or in the hallways between classes. He didn't seem to be anywhere, so Sirius set off to find him.

He searched pretty much the entire grounds and was still searching even after nightfall; Regulus had confided in Sirius that he didn't like sleeping in the Slytherin dorms, so he usually found somewhere else in the school to sleep.

By two in the morning, Sirius was worried about his brother. Why hadn't there been any sign of him? His mood was worsening. He returned to Gryffindor Tower looking disheveled and burst into his dormitory, waking James, Peter and Remus.

"Where's the Map?" he shouted at James, who usually kept it.

James groped under his pillow sleepily and held out the parchment for Sirius to grab.

"I'm borrowing it," Sirius announced loudly. It was too dark and they were too sleepy, so none of the other boys realized how close Sirius was to completely panicking. He turned and walked out of the dormitory, slamming the door behind him.

In the Common Room, Sirius had spread out the Marauder's Map and was searching it up and down. The only words running through his mind were Regulus Black, Regulus Black, Regulus Black.

Where.

Was.

Regulus?

After checking the map once, twice, thrice, Sirius got up and left the Common Room, not bothering to erase the Map. He was heading for Dumbledore's office. He didn't care that it was well past curfew, he didn't care if he got caught. Dumbledore knew everything. He'd know where Regulus was. He was blocked by the gargoyle, who demanded the password.

"I don't know the damn password, just let me in!" Sirius shouted, at a very high point of annoyance.

"What are you doing out bed, Black?" a voice asked. Sirius turned and saw Filch hobbling his way.

"I need to see Dumbledore," he shot at filch.

"Turn out your pockets."

"No." The Map was in there, unwiped.

"Turn out your pockets, or I will have to get your Head of House involved."

With a slight growl, Sirius took both his wand and the Map out of his pockets. Before Filch could take the Map, he pointed his wand at it and mumbled 'Mischief Managed'.

"What's that?" Filch said, eyeing the now blank map.

"Map of the school," Sirius said calmly.

"Turn it back!" Filch demanded, taking it from Sirius. He was going to get shouted at for that.

"No thanks," he said cooly. "Now if I could see Professor Dumbledore…"

"Not right now, you're coming with me. You're in—" Filch was cut off by Dumbledore's door opening.

"Ah, Mr. Filch, if you would please leave Sirius with me? I'm under the impression that he would like to speak to me."

Filch's ever-present scowl deepened but he backed away, taking the Map, with him.

Sirius walked into Dumbledore's office, a little bit pissed that he didn't have the Map anymore, but more relieved that Dumbledore had let Sirius speak to him.

"Mr. Black," Dumbledore said, sitting down behind his desk. "What a pleasant surprise."

"Professor," Sirius started. He paused for a moment, not knowing what to ask. He decided to just ask, "Where's my brother?"

Dumbledore didn't answer, and that's how Sirius knew that something was wrong.

"Where's my brother?" he said, a little bit louder. "Regulus. I know where James is," he specified, but a feeling in his gut told him that Dumbledore knew which brother he was talking about, and what happened to that brother. It wasn't a pleasant feeling.

"Sirius," Dumbledore said, softly. Sirius felt tears forming in his eyes, and he quickly blinked them back. He didn't want Dumbledore to be nice to him, he wanted Dumbledore to get him in trouble, to shout at him for being out of his dormitory so late, and for something so trivial. His brother was at home, Sirius' biological parents just didn't want him to come back to Hogwarts for some reason, his brother was okay.

Panic was rising up in him.

"Your brother is dead."

Panic spilled out.

"He's not." Sirius' voice sounded shaky, just like how the rest of his body was, trembling. Sirius grabbed one of the many strange things on Dumbledore's desk. "He's not!" Sirius repeated, his voice louder and shakier. He threw the object he was holding, right at Dumbledore. "He's not, he's not, he's not."

"First stage: denial," a voice behind Sirius said. Sirius whirled around to see his grandfather, Phineas, looking down at him.

"Shut up!" Sirius roared at the portrait. He reached behind his back and threw another one of Dumbledore's objects at the portrait. Phineas ducked into another portrait to avoid being hit. The other past headmasters and mistresses shouted at Sirius. He didn't care. He turned back to Dumbledore. "Tell me that he's not. He's not dead."

Dumbledore remained silent, a sad look on his face.

"NO!" Sirius swept everything off of Dumbledore's desk, knocking them all to the floor and causing more than a few items to break.

"Sirius, if you would sit down, I could explain—"

Sirius let out a yell. "How would you even know?"

"I have my own means of getting information from the other side."

Sirius sat down, suddenly feeling exhausted. "What happened to him?" Tears weren't coming out of his eyes, because Sirius wouldn't let them. He felt small, very small, and very worthless to everybody. He wanted to join The Order after Hogwarts, an organization he knew James' parents were in. It was the expectation of The Order to keep the entire Wizarding Population safe from the Death Eaters, but he couldn't even keep his own brother safe from them. Maybe, a small part of him said, you didn't want to keep him safe. Maybe you wanted him to die because he was a Death Eater. But he was still Sirius' little brother.

"Voldemort didn't say why, at least to my spy. He said that it was a tragic loss, as Regulus was already quite close to him." Sirius hissed. He hated that Voldemort would actually be sorry. He hated that Dumbledore talked so casually about death, as if the only person in Sirius' biological family that he could slightly stand wasn't dead. He hated everyone.

His chest kept on rising up and down, and he was breathing heavily, but he wouldn't let himself cry.

He hated himself the most. He hated that he cut himself off from his brother, not talking to him because of a mark on his arm. Now he would never be able to forgive Regulus because Regulus was dead.

"Sirius. It's okay to cry," Dumbledore said after a few minutes of quiet, where the only noises were Sirius' heavy breathing. "It's okay to be sad."

"No it's not," he snapped. "He is—" his breath hitched. There were tears in his eyes once again. "He was a Death Eater. I don't even care that he's dead," he lied, right to Dumbledore's face. "It's better that he died, actually. One less Death Eater to deal with."

The tears never fell.