Warnings: Incest; Slash
He watched from his hiding place in the shadows as the group of friends laughed and joked as if there wasn't a war raging on around them; as if the war couldn't enter Hogwarts – as if it hadn't already. Grey eyes locked onto his from across the corridor, and he froze in their penetrating stare.
After a few seconds if indecision he turned on the spot and fled, running as hard and as fast as he could in the opposite direction. Vaguely he heard someone shout behind him – something that could have been his name – but he didn't stop to listen.
He found himself at the bottom step leading to the Astronomy Tower, panting for breath. He bent over with his hands on his knees for a few minute, trying to regain control of his breathing. He could hear distant footsteps, but they weren't close enough to be a worry to him at the moment.
He made the slow ascent up the spiral staircase; the lack of oxygen combined with the turns of the stairs were making him dizzy, and he had to cling onto the handrail for support. He heard the distinct sound of footsteps following him at a more even pace, but he didn't concern himself with that – he already had a reasonably good idea who was following him.
When he eventually reached the top of the tower he was even more exhausted than before, and he leant against the rough stone wall to wait. It wasn't long before the footsteps reached the top of the stairs, and he didn't have to look up to know that it was his brother.
"What are you doing here?" He almost laughed at the absurdity of it; he wasn't the one chasing people through the castle.
"I could ask you the same thing," He managed to get out without panting. Not waiting for a response, he pushed himself off the wall and made his way outside. He'd taken his O.W.L.s. here only a few weeks ago, but it seemed so different when no one was there – more peaceful, and beautiful, too.
It was a clear night, and he had an almost unobscured view of the stars. He felt his brother follow him out, silently coming to stand beside him.
"It's not too late, you know," Of course his brother wouldn't have been able to stand the silence for long, he was always making noise – setting off fireworks, running up and down stairs, driving mother mad.
This time he did give in to the urge to laugh; a cold, mocking sound that made his brother wince.
"It's not, you could..."
"Could what, Sirius? Stay with you and your precious little friends and pretend that none of this is happening? Beg that stupid old coot of a headmaster for help? Is that what you want?" Finally, he turned to look at his brother – his features adopting their usual sneer – his eyes narrowing at the imploring look on his brother's face.
"Regs, it's not too late until you get the Mark," Sirius begged, ignoring the glare the hated nickname induced.
"It is too late," Regulus whispered, suddenly unable to meet his brother's eyes. Slowly, he rolled up his left sleeve, revealing the faint mark on the inner part of his forearm. He heard the subtle intake of breath as his brother realised what he was looking at; hands were pulling his arm closer, cold fingers tracing over the tattoo.
The fingers tightened over his wrist, using his arm to pull him closer; harsh breath panted in his ear, something that could have been 'I hate you', but could easily have been love. Hard lips pressed against his, teeth clacking painfully; biting, licking, sucking. Blood was drawn, and someone was crying; sweat licked from pale flesh marked with bruises and teeth marks.
It was hard, and it was fast, and it hurt; neither attempted to break the moment apart, to shatter their tenuous hold on reality.
When it was over, they both redressed in silence, avoiding all contact as if that could erase what they had just done.
He wanted to call out to his brother, tell him everything that he'd never said – stay; don't leave me; please; I need you; I love you – but it was too late.
Their fate was already decided.
