A/N: By request, kinda - I didn't even plan for this story to turn out like this but... well, it happened. This is very AU. If you have not read ATOTB, this story may not make any sense to you.

Warnings: Contains spanking, alcohol abuse, violence, and lots and lots of misery. Please do take the warnings very seriously this time.

December 1995

It was on the second day that Ron was visiting that the boys seemed to be fed up with staying in the house and pushed outside. Regulus was sitting in the parlor when he heard the boys on the stairs. They whispered to each other before entering the room.

"Can we go to the movies?" Harry asked.

"There's this new one," Ron added. "GoldenEye. With John Bond."

"James Bond," Harry corrected his friend. "It's this really good spy movie… it's the one that's all over the billboards."

Regulus studied the boys. Harry was biting his bottom lip, throwing his best impression at puppy eyes at him. Ron was looking down, rubbing his nose.

"What time is that movie supposed to start?"

"Eight," Harry said. Held his breath.

"That's quite late," Regulus noted. "There is no earlier performance?"

Ron exchanged a short glance with Harry. Harry sighed. "No. But we really wanted to see that movie. Please, Reg."

"Which theater?"

"Birbeck's," Harry said. "At Gordon Square."

That wasn't far, only maybe fifteen minutes on foot. Regulus rubbed a hand over his face, straightened up. Sirius was working late, and Regulus knew that Sirius wouldn't be thrilled at the idea of Harry and Ron staying out past nightfall. Since the events of last summer, the death of Cedric Diggory and the reappearance of Voldemort, Sirius had become rather paranoid. And Regulus understood why, he really did. Being an Auror wasn't easy these days, the attacks on muggleborns and muggles had increased dramatically in the last months. That and that he constantly had to worry about Harry now affected Sirius's psyche a lot. However, Regulus found that the fact that Sirius had barely let Harry out of the house since he'd returned home for Christmas one week ago was a little over-the-top. Even Regulus, counting thirty-three years and being an adult in all regards possible, had a hard time leaving the house or even crossing the doorstep without instantly being interrogated by a very anxious Sirius about where he was going, when he was going to be back, and why it was even necessary that he left the house in the first place. Regulus sensed that Harry needed him to cut him a break.

"You'll be back before 10:30?"

Both Harry and Ron nodded quickly. "Yes."

Regulus sighed. "All right. Though you better be on time. You know how Sirius is, Harry. Be back before he comes home."

An uneasy feeling entered Regulus' stomach as soon as the minute hand went from 10:30 to 10:31. Five minutes later and he was pacing up and down the parlor, the door open so he would hear the boys as soon as they opened the front door. A look out of the window revealed nothing but an empty street, rain slashing through the lanterns' yellow cones. Raindrops drumming against the windowpanes, growing louder. The boys hadn't taken umbrellas with them and Regulus hoped they were close to home. Maybe they'd waited under some roof or at a bus stop for the rain to stop. But Merlin were they late.

When the clock chimed 11, the floo roared. For the last minutes now, Regulus had debated grabbing his coat to go looking for the boys, but he didn't want Sirius to find the house empty and have a heart attack.

"I'm home," Sirius called from downstairs.

Regulus sat on a chair next to the window. He closed his eyes, folded his hands. Wished instantly for the front door to open.

Sirius' footsteps on the stairs, heavy and tired. He pushed the door to the parlor open, glanced inside. "Evening, Reggie. I'm home."

Regulus opened his eyes. "I can see that."

Sirius peeled himself out of his coat, laid it over the back of the sofa. Ran a hand through his hair. He smelled of sweat and smoke. "Merlin, what a day. I need a drink."

"Sirius," Regulus began. His throat closed up. He hadn't felt like this in years, like he had messed up royally. "Harry and Ron…"

"Are they upstairs?" Sirius didn't look at him as he spoke. He opened a cabinet, took out a bottle of whiskey. "I hope they behaved for you."

Regulus was silent.

Sirius turned around, whiskey in hand. "Reg? Is something wrong?"

"They wanted to see a movie at the cinema," Regulus forced past the lump in his throat. "They were supposed to be home half an hour ago."

Sirius stilled. "What?"

"We have to go looking for them," Regulus said. "They - they should long be home by now."

Sirius walked to where Regulus was sitting, right next to the window. He set the bottle of whiskey on the windowsill. "Then why are you still here?" He was speaking through clenched teeth.

"I wanted to wait until you're home," Regulus responded. "I thought… maybe they're just running a little late. It's pouring out there."

Sirius turned abruptly, grabbed the coat he'd put down only a minute ago. Shrugged it on. "You should've told me instantly. Called me through the floo. Damn it, Regulus! Harry's got a whole bunch of Death Eaters who want to see him dead, who are just waiting for the right moment!"

"I just wanted to give them a little more time," Regulus defended himself. He got up, summoned his cloak, then followed Sirius out of the room and down the stairs.

"Time that might cost them their lives," Sirius hissed. "You never should've allowed Harry to leave the house in the first place. This is not the Burrow, Reg, this is London! These streets aren't safe!"

Sirius held the front door open for Regulus to step through. Regulus ducked his head, walked down to the street. Sirius waved his wand, put a ward in place to alert them if Harry came back.

"Where were they headed?"

"Gordon Square."

"And then they're half an hour late?! Bloody hell, Reg! You should've -"

"Yes, I know," Regulus snapped. He was mad enough at himself, he didn't need Sirius's reproaches on top of that. He'd had one job - to watch the boys. And he'd fucked things up.

Sirius glared at him. "You walk." Without another word, he apparated. Regulus stood another second in the rain, looking down the empty street before he set in motion.

Sirius was back not even five minutes later. He'd found the boys in a stinky pub across the street from the movie theater. Seized them by their necks without uttering a single word and apparated them home. Ron doubled over and puked on the floor as soon as they were in the house. Sirius vanished the mess, helped Ron to the bathroom, ordering Harry, who was swaying a little when he got to his feet but was by far not as drunk as Ron, to get himself to bed.

Regulus returned not much later, apparating home as soon as his brother's dog-shaped patronus had reached him. He sprinted up the stairs. Through the open bathroom door on the second floor he could see Ron kneeling in front of the toilet, Sirius behind him, a soothing hand on his back, a potion waiting in the other.

"Just get it all out, Ron," Sirius said, patting the boy's back. "You'll feel a lot better soon." He looked up, saw Regulus standing in the door. He nodded towards the potion cabinet. "Good thing you're here, Reg. I'm busy with this one. Get Harry one of the hangover cures, will you? It's the blue potion on the left."

Regulus didn't move. "He's upstairs?"

Sirius nodded. Ron was heaving again and Sirius patted the boy's back.

Regulus turned on the spot. Stomped up the stairs.

"Reg, the potion -" Sirius called from the bathroom.

Regulus didn't care. He reached the third floor. The door to Harry's room was ajar, threw a cone of light into the dark corridor. Regulus stepped into the room. Harry was lying face down on his bed, still in his streetwear. Regulus approached him, lifted his feet and untied his shoes.

"Lemme…just gimme a minute…" Harry's words were muffled by his pillow.

Regulus got the boy's shoes off his feet. "Come on, sit up so we can get you out of your clothes," he said, clenching his teeth at the moan that came from Harry's direction.

"Jus… wanna sleep…"

Regulus gave an annoyed sigh. He transfigured the boy's damp clothes into a set of matching flannel pajamas. "You're in so much trouble, do you know that?" he hissed as he tugged Harry's covers out from under the boy.

"Nnoo."

Regulus righted Harry's pillow. "You lied to me, Harry."

Harry gave a soft moan. "Didn't…"

"Oh yes, you did."

"I regret eeeverything," Harry exclaimed dramatically, raising his head but keeping his eyes closed. "Eeeveryy-thing!" He let his head fall back down on the pillow.

"And why is that?"

A groan from Harry. "Doesn't taste… it's not good. Don't feel good."

"You feeling sick?"

Harry groaned. "My head…'s soooo heavy."

Regulus spread out of the covers over the boy, tucked them around his shoulders. The sound of footsteps was carried from the stairs through the open door and into the room.

Ron entered the room. He looked pale but his steps were steady as he went to the other bed. Sirius must've given him the hangover cure. He kept his head down, refused to look at Regulus as he slid under his covers.

Regulus straightened up. He wanted to say something, ask the boy why they'd repaid his kindness by lying and deceiving him. Sirius was right, they could've gotten themselves killed tonight. Regulus should've never allowed them to leave the house.

No. As much as he wanted to yell at the boys, this was not the right time for that. Regulus switched off the light without another word, leaving the door ajar.

Sirius was in the basement, sat at the head of the large wooden table, feet propped up on the chair next to him, a half-empty bottle of whiskey sitting in front of him. Regulus halted at the bottom of the stairs, giving his brother an incredulous look. "You can't be serious," he said.

Sirius cast him a blank stare. His face hung loose and long. "I'm afraid so."

Regulus crossed his arms. "No wonder the boys went out and got drunk, with you as their shining example."

"Oh no, you're not putting this one on me, mate. You're the one who's responsible for this mess."

"I only wanted them to have an evening off and be allowed out of the house. Be teenagers for a while. They deserve that."

"Doesn't matter what they deserve," Sirius said. "You think the Death Eaters will care? Voldemort will be like, oh, can't attack them now because it's their special evening out and that wouldn't be fair?"

Regulus sat down at the opposite end of the table. He looked at his brother. At thirty-six, Sirius looked much older than his age. In a matter of just a few months, his skin had turned waxy and his eyes had sunken in. On most days, alcohol clouded their once so striking grey. The black of his beard and his temples was lightening and slowly turning white.

"That job, it's killing you," Regulus muttered.

Sirius didn't respond. He took a swig directly from the bottle.

Fury took hold of Regulus. He jumped up, crossed the room with large steps. When he was next to Sirius, he snatched the bottle of whiskey out of his hand, the amber liquid swashing around.

"Hey!"

"Why are you drinking, Sirius? Why?"

Sirius groaned. "Give me that!"

"No. You've had enough."

Sirius slammed his hand on the table. "You don't get to tell me what to do, mister! Now give it back!"

Regulus winced but he didn't back down. He wasn't going to be intimidated by Sirius' yelling, not today. Sirius could yell all he wanted, he wasn't going to get that bottle back. "Just look at yourself. Look at you! Is this the example you want to set for Harry? Drown your worries in a bottle, great coping mechanism, really. Has a long family tradition too. I wouldn't be surprised if, in a year or two, I'll have two alcoholics in this house, not just one."

"I'm not an alcoholic," Sirius protested hotly, a vein popping out in his neck.

Regulus raised the bottle, waved it in front of Sirius' nose. "Then you shouldn't need this."

Sirius grabbed for it but his hands only found air. He ground his jaw. "Fuck you, Reg. I had a hard day. It's not like you never drink."

"Not like you. Not until I pass out on the couch!"

"Now you're exaggerating."

"I'm not, no. Take last week for example - how many nights did you actually sleep in your bed? Three?"

Sirius thought about that for a moment, his forehead creasing as he tried to recall the last week. The events of the evenings had already become blurry to him as though they had occurred years ago. He leaned back in his chair, eyes cold suddenly. "Well, I'm glad you're perfect at least. Like when you allowed Harry and Ron to leave the house knowing full well how I feel about that. Outstanding parenting, little brother. Of course, you found a way to make it all my fault even though I wasn't even home. Just like it's gonna be me who will have to be the bad guy tomorrow."

Regulus set the bottle of whiskey on the table where it was out of Sirius' reach, leaned his arms on the back of a chair. "I'm not perfect, Siri. I know I messed up. I'm gonna make things right again."

"Oh yeah, and how are you gonna do that?"

"I'll punish him."

Sirius gave a short laugh. "Some corner time and a short little essay isn't going to cut it, Reg."

"I'll spank him."

Sirius froze, his laughter fading. Regulus had never offered that before. Sure, there had been rare occurrences when he'd swatted Harry a few times, but he'd always left it to Sirius to do the dirty work and play the bad cop to Regulus' good cop. They both knew Sirius hated that, though. It broke his heart every single time.

Regulus folded his hands over the table, took a deep breath. "It's me he lied to so it should be I who punishes him."

Sirius studied Regulus intently. Regulus found it hard to hold his gaze, he felt like Sirius was probing how determined he was just by seeing who would look away first. So he forced himself to keep his face relaxed and his gaze steady.

Suddenly Sirius broke out in a smile that softened the rough edges of his face though it also revealed a deep underlying sadness. "Thanks, little brother. I appreciate the offer. But no." He got up, walked over to Regulus, rested his right hand on his brother's shoulder while reaching for the bottle of whiskey on the table. The rings on his fingers clinked against the bottleneck. "You make him do some chores or whatever. Try and explain things to him, make it clear that this," he held up the bottle, "this isn't for him. Yet."

Regulus looked up at him, silently. Sirius tucked the bottle under his arm, squeezed Regulus' shoulder. Regulus could smell the whiskey on him.

"All I want for now is to get a good night's sleep," Sirius said, his voice tired again. "I'll see if I can't come home early tomorrow, join you for dinner. I'll have a talk with Harry afterward."

After breakfast Regulus dropped Ron off at the Burrow. Molly was furious when she learned about what the boys had been up to. Regulus left as soon as possible, impatient to escape the fury of Molly Weasley even though it hadn't even been directed at him. Not that he felt sorry for Ron, but he couldn't stand how shrill her voice became when she was yelling, so shrill that it seemed to ring in his ears for hours. Though, when he thought about it, it must've sounded a lot worse to Ron, who was still a little hung over and recovering from last night's adventures.

Harry was quiet today, his silent looks full of questions he didn't dare to ask loudly. Regulus didn't address them. He curtly told Harry to sweep the floor, water all the plants, help Kreacher in the kitchen, and when the boy had done all that and came into the parlor to ask Regulus what he was supposed to do next, voice soft and eyes downcast, Regulus sent him to work on the homework he got to finish over the holidays. The fifteen-year-old did all that quietly, not even once complaining.

Meanwhile, Regulus sat in his favorite armchair in the parlor, staring out of the window, pondering, eyes wandering over the stony grey of the city and the rain clouds that hung so deep that they were swallowing the tips of the highest buildings.

Sirius had called him earlier, saying that he would not be able to join them for dinner but he'd try and he home before eight. His face had appeared regretful but maybe it had just been the flames playing around his features that had made it look like that.

Sirius hadn't always been like this. When a few months ago, he'd started taking on double shifts at the Ministry, working day and night, Regulus had thought that this was only going to be a matter of a few weeks. Then weeks had turned into months and now that New Year's Eve was approaching fast and there was still no end in sight, Regulus feared that months would eventually turn into years if he didn't do something about it. But it was more than that. Sirius had always enjoyed a drink now and then, but he'd never been an alcoholic. However, as the workload had increased the drinking had become excessive. It had been a few times a week at first, then every day. By now, Regulus wasn't sure whether Sirius didn't start his days already chained to the hipflask he was constantly carrying around.

That job, it was killing Sirius. Constantly having to worry about Harry, fearing to see their child's face every time he was called to a murder scene, knowing full well that this torture and worse was what every single Death Eater out there wished upon his fifteen-year-old godson.

"I'm gonna find him and I'm gonna end him," Sirius had said on one of the many sleepless nights shortly after Voldemort's return, referring to the monster that had touched their child and slit his arm open, leaving memories behind that had Harry wake up screaming at night. Harry with him on the couch, the boy's head leaning against his shoulder, his chest rising and lowering as he'd fallen into an exhausted sleep. Sirius' arms, his only shelter from the memories of seeing Cedric die right in front of him. And Sirius, he'd rested his chin on Harry's messy hair and looked at Regulus, whispering, "fuck that prophecy and whatever it says. I'm not going to let Harry fight in this war. I'm going to kill Voldemort before it ever comes to that."

Regulus had winced at the sound of his brother speaking Voldemort's name, and he'd hated himself for it. Unlike him, Sirius had been a soldier for almost two decades now. That was something that one didn't simply shake off. Soldiers were drawn to the call of war like rats to the Pied Piper. Either the parents paid their dues in blood or the Piper came for their children.

Regulus knew that he'd been spared, sort of. He'd never really had to pay the full price, not with Sirius by his side.

Regulus rose to his feet, climbed the stairs up to the third floor. His hand hovered in the air for a minute before he took a deep breath and knocked at the door to Harry's room and pushed it open at a soft "come in".

Harry was sitting at his desk, his head in his hand.

"Hey," Regulus said, crossing the room and sitting down on Harry's unmade bed.

Harry turned to his side, his elbow on the back of his chair. "Hey," he responded softly.

"Sirius is going to come home late today. There's too much work to do, he can't leave early. He wishes he could."

Harry's face fell. "Oh."

"How are you doing? Still got a headache or are you feeling better now?"

"I'm feeling better," Harry said. He lowered his eyes.

Regulus had the feeling that, despite feeling better, Harry wasn't feeling fine yet. But he didn't press the matter.

"I think we need to talk about the drinking," Regulus said. The words felt wrong in his mouth. He had got drunk when he'd been Harry's age and he didn't recall Sirius ever punishing him for it. "Whose idea was it?"

Harry shrugged. "Mine."

Regulus had a feeling that that wasn't true. "When did you start lying to me?"

Harry looked up, his eyes widening in shock.

"You know how Sirius feels about lying. I don't know why you think that I'd feel any differently about it."

"I don't," Harry responded. His voice sounded thin, flimsy. "I'm sorry, Reg. I didn't want to lie."

"And yet you did it. And by lying, you and Ron put yourselves in great danger. Sirius is right about that."

Harry sucked on his bottom lip. "Is he very mad?"

Regulus sighed. He wanted to say no, but honestly, he wasn't sure. Sirius hadn't seemed very mad at Harry yesterday, but maybe Regulus had missed it somehow, especially after stricking up an argument with Sirius about the man's own drinking habits. Regulus was pretty sure, however, that, had Harry not been three sheets to the wind when Sirius had found him, Sirius would've likely put Harry over his knee the moment he'd apparated the boys home and spanked the living daylights out of his backside.

"We were out looking for you. You know that Sirius doesn't do being scared very well. He was really afraid for you and Ron. As were I."

Harry lowered his head. "I'm sorry," he mumbled.

"Sorry doesn't cut it. You can't act as senselessly as that, Harry. You have to remember - your safety is our priority. It should be your priority as well, seeing how hard Sirius and I try to do everything in our power to protect you."

Harry's forehead creased at that. "You don't know how it feels not being allowed to do anything," he exclaimed. His lip was trembling now and his fingers tightened on the back of his chair.

Regulus almost laughed at that. He knew better than anyone how Harry felt. "You forget that I too was fifteen once. Sirius too, as hard as that may be to believe. It's been a couple of years but I can still remember quite clearly."

Harry folded his arms over the back of the chair and rested his chin on top of them. "All I want is to be normal. It's not easy being me."

Regulus leaned forward, rested his elbows on his thighs. Harry wasn't having it easy, that was true. Especially this year, things seemed to be particularly bad at Hogwarts. And on top of that, things weren't good at home either. "I know, kid. And you know that, if there's anything we can do, just tell us."

The boy kept his eyes on Regulus, studying him for a while. "Reg… I wish I hadn't lied to you. But Sirius doesn't understand. He's so different now. I can't talk to him anymore."

Regulus ran a hand through his hair. Of course, Harry had noticed that something was wrong, the boy was neither deaf and blind nor was he stupid. "You can still talk to him," Regulus said nevertheless. "I know he's working a lot right now but -"

Harry interrupted him, shaking his head. "Even when he's here he's not really with us."

Regulus grimaced. His brother couldn't go on like this or their little family would slowly but surely fall apart.

"I know," he said, struggling to lift those two little words over his lips like they weighed a ton. How he wished he could've defended Sirius. But Harry was right and there was no way Regulus would deny that, despite the fact that he wanted nothing more than to tell Harry that everything was all right and they had everything under control. "Sirius has a problem, Harry. It's not uncommon for people to turn to alcohol when they are under a lot of pressure."

Harry nodded. "I wanted to know what it feels like, you know. What he feels like when he's… getting drunk. But it's not a good feeling." He screwed up his face. "I don't understand why he does it."

To get away. "I don't want you to worry too much about it right now, okay? I'll try to get him some help."

"I just want him back."

Regulus felt a heavy lump forming in his throat. Yes, he wanted his brother back too, more than anything. He wanted to see Sirius smile again. Hear him laugh, and he didn't want that deep, soulless laugh that didn't even reach his eyes, he wanted Sirius's true laugh, carefree and light and addictive like nothing else. The booze poisoned everything that was wonderful about Sirius. "Me too, pup," he whispered.

Harry blinked. It usually was Sirius who called him that. But recently, Sirius seemed to have forgotten that name. He only called him Harry now, or kid. Sometimes Harry James, especially when he was irritated.

Regulus took a deep breath, braced his hands on his knees, straightening his back. "I'm here to give you a choice," he began. "You know you're in deep trouble for lying and putting yourself in danger. You know either of those offenses alone is enough to earn you a spanking."

Harry winced. "I…" he hung his head, nodded.

"Your choice is as follows: I can do it now or Sirius can do it when he gets home from work."

Harry's head snapped up, his eyes wide. "Y-you? You never -"

"Well, you never lied to me like that before either, straight to my face." Harry and Regulus were close. Usually, when Harry got into some kind of trouble, he confided in Regulus first and Regulus would then talk to Sirius, calm him down and try to get him to let the boy off lightly. Sometimes Regulus felt more like Harry's friend than like his parent.

Harry shook his head. "I don't want you to. Not you."

As strange as it was, with the way Harry said that, Regulus almost felt hurt. "Don't you trust me or what?"

"That's not it. I just don't want you to."

Regulus hummed. "With Sirius, you know what to expect, huh?"

A flush spread over Harry's cheeks. "Yeah."

Whenever Harry was hurt or afraid, he'd always sought shelter in Sirius's arms. Even in the summer in the weeks after Cedric's death, it had mostly been Sirius who'd spent hot summer nights with Harry in the parlor, talking, playing cards, sitting with the boy, trying to get him to fall asleep. Watching over him. Regulus wondered if Harry's decision didn't so much depend on who doled out the discipline but rather on who comforted him afterward.

"Even though it means you're going to have to wait longer?"

"I don't mind that."

"Okay." This kind of rejection, it was strange but it felt like relief.

Sirius came home earlier than yesterday, but it was still late. Regulus and Harry had had sandwiches for dinner and after that, Regulus had allowed Harry to leave his room and join him in the parlor, where they spent the evening playing chess.

Both of them tensed up at the sound of the floo from downstairs. It was half-past nine and they had just begun a rematch. As soon as they heard Sirius arriving, the game was forgotten. Harry wrung his hands nervously and Regulus wanted to give him a smile that was supposed to look encouraging but he knew it looked far too watery.

The portrait of Walburga Black raised a clamor as soon as Sirius passed by her on his way upstairs, the old wooden stairs creaking under his heavy boots. The door to the parlor opened and Sirius stepped in with a deep sigh. "How are things?" he asked, barely looking at them before he crossed the room and went straight to the cabinet to get his bottle of whiskey.

Regulus frowned. "Put that away."

Sirius plopped down on the couch. He lifted his legs and put them on the coffee table. "Just a sip Reg. I need that now." He raised the bottle to his mouth.

Regulus clenched his fists. He glanced at Harry. The boy didn't dare to look at Sirius, he stared at his hands, his lips pressed together. "Why don't you go upstairs, pup?" he said, keeping his voice gentle.

Finally, Harry looked up. His eyes were pleading with Regulus. "I don't want to," he whispered.

"Harry, do as Regulus says," Sirius said without turning. "I'll be up to talk to you in a minute."

So at least it seemed Sirius hadn't forgotten about that. Good.

At the tone of Sirius's voice, rough and a little impatient, Harry got to his feet without any further argument and left the room.

As soon as the boy on his way upstairs, Regulus reached over to where Sirius was sitting. He held out his hand. "Give me that bottle."

The corner of Sirius' mouth quirked up as though Regulus had made a joke. "Why so bossy, little brother?"

"You're scaring Harry."

Sirius' right eyebrow shot up. "I'm not scaring him -"

"Yes, you are. Do you have to get drunk right in front of him?"

"I'm not getting drunk. I'm just having a small drink, that's all."

"A whole bottle is more like it." Regulus was still holding his hand out. "Give it to me. You can drink after you've talked to him."

Sirius contemplated that for a moment. Eventually, he sighed deeply and gave in. "All right. I better get going then." He grunted as he got to his feet, stretching out his arms. Yawned. "Fuck, I'm tired. You wouldn't believe how tired I am, Reg."

Regulus pinched the bridge of his nose. He listened as Sirius left the room, listened to his feet on the stairs, his steps slow and heavy. Then the sound of Harry's door opening and closing. Regulus got up and went to the cabinet in which Sirius stored most of his alcohol. He gathered as many bottles into his arms as he could, then flicked his wand and levitated the rest of the bottles to fly after him. In the bathroom, he poured them all down the sink. Red wine like blood, whiskey like piss. Bottles of gin, vodka, rum. The smell of alcohol filled the room, the fumes tickling his nose.

When he was done he washed his hands and followed Sirius and Harry upstairs, careful to skip the creaking steps.

Sirius hadn't put up a silencing spell, the house was so big that usually there was no need. Regulus could hear them talking, their voices muffled, he could make out only a few single words. He leaned against the banister, eyes on the door, on the light that fell through the gap under it into the dark corridor.

Rustling, the sound of the bedsprings creaking as Sirius moved back and positioned the boy over his knees. Then the familiar slapping sound began. Skin on skin, in an even rhythm. Regulus' throat tightened. It didn't take long until he heard muffled gasps. As time went on, the slaps became harder and faster. Harry was yelping now. "Please -"

"Move your hand." Sirius's deep voice.

The boy was crying. A moment later, the slapping sound continued, even harder now.

Regulus thought he was going to be sick. Tight knots formed in his stomach as he listened to Harry's cries. They didn't seem to affect Sirius in the least. The man went on, hard and fast, the rhythmic slapping ringing off the walls. Only after what seemed like an eternity, he stopped. Regulus knew, however, that at this point, Sirius was far from finished.

"Why are you being punished, Harry James?"

Sobbing. A few well-placed swats and the boy snapped out of it. "F-for lying and drinking."

More swatting. "You could've been kidnapped. Tortured, killed. Do you realize that?"

Harry must've nodded because Sirius said "Can't hear your head rattle." Regulus hated that phrase, he didn't know why Sirius used it.

That got Sirius a soft "yes sir," as a response.

"Is this what Lily and James died for? You putting yourself out there, drunk and past nightfall, that's like dangling a carrot in front of all those Death Eaters."

More sobbing.

"Get up and get the hairbrush."

"S-Siri…?"

"It's in the top drawer of your commode. Bring it here and give it to me."

Regulus pictured Harry wiping a sleeve over his face, drawing up his trousers, then slowly getting to his feet and hobbling over to the commode, picking up the hairbrush and handing it to Sirius who was sitting on the bed with a face like stone. Slowly and careful not to make any noise, Regulus moved closer to the door. Harry had to be a mess of tears and snot by now and Regulus wasn't sure how much more punishment Sirius had in mind.

"Drop them."

"Do I have to?" Harry's voice, pleading with his godfather. He sounded all of five years old again.

"What happens when you lie, Harry James?"

Harry's breath hitched. "…get it on the bare."

"Then I don't understand why there is any confusion."

Regulus winced at the sound of Sirius's voice. He'd rarely heard his brother sound so cold, especially towards Harry.

The bedsprings creaked again as Harry was getting back in position.

Regulus rested a hand on the door, narrowed his eyes as he looked through the keyhole, trying to catch a glimpse of what was happening inside. Sirius was sitting on the bed with his back to the door. Of Harry Regulus could only see his messy mop of hair, the boy kept his head buried in the nook of his arm.

Sirius tapped the brush against Harry's backside. "You don't lie to me. You don't lie to Reg." Then he snapped it down, the sound of wood on skin causing Regulus to flinch. Harry hissed and arched his back. Sirius only gave him a couple of seconds to process the pain until he brought the hairbrush down again. That continued for a while. At first, Regulus tried to keep count, but it was hard to focus on anything aside from Harry's pained cries.

It was maybe at the eighth or ninth smack that Regulus couldn't take it anymore. This was too much, Sirius was being too hard on Harry. He put his hand on the doorknob and turned it, pushed the door open as quietly as he could.

Neither Sirius nor Harry noticed him entering the room. Only when he put his left hand on Sirius's shoulder his brother looked up, his eyes widening, his expression a mix of shock and surprise. Sirius' hand was tightly clasping the brush, ready to descend on the poor backside over his lap. Regulus held his right hand open. "That's enough," he mouthed, "give me the brush."

Sirius looked down at the crying boy over his lap. Harry was bawling into the sheets, oblivious to anything that was going on, his body shaken by sobs. From the top of his bottom down to the tops of his thighs, Harry's backside was colored in a dusty pink, deep red splotches that were mainly focused on the boy's sit spots bloomed in the oval shape of the hairbrush. Sirius' shoulders slumped and his fingers loosened around the brush's handle. He'd gripped it so tightly that his knuckles had turned white.

Regulus took the brush and put it back on top of the commode. Meanwhile, Sirius reached down and carefully drew up Harry's underwear. "It's over now, pup," he said, his words gentle. He gathered the boy up and into his arms. Harry rubbed his right hand over his eyes, rested his head on Sirius's shoulder. It was only then that Harry spotted Regulus. His face turned even redder if that was even possible and he hid his face in Sirius' shirt. "It's okay," Sirius mumbled into the teenager's hair. "You're okay. It's all over now." He lifted his eyes, looked over to Regulus. Gave him a slight nod.

Regulus took that as a sign that he could leave.

His limbs felt heavy as he descended the stairs and returned back into the parlor. He'd made the mistake to leave the door open. The fire had gone out and the room was cold. He took the iron fireplace poker to rekindle the flames. Then sat down on the floor, legs crossed, the warmth of the flames playing over his body. Closed his eyes.

Sirius knocked against the open door. Regulus hadn't heard him on the stairs, he must've dozed off. Sirius got himself a pillow from the couch, planted it on the ground and then sat down next to his younger brother, grunting like he was fifty already and not thirty-six.

Regulus glanced at him. "Is Harry okay?"

Sirius nodded.

Silence wrapped itself around them like a thick, warm security blanket. It took Regulus a great deal of willpower to pierce it with his words. "We miss you, Siri."

Sirius lowered his head.

"We need you," Regulus continued. "Harry, he needs you. Not that shell of a man that you've become. You."

Sirius sighed. He kept his eyes on the fireplace as he said, "I know."

"If you go on like this you won't be able to do your job for much longer."

Sirius ran his finger over the edge of the fireplace, cold ashes coloring his fingertip black. „I just want to know you and Harry safe. That's all I ever wanted."

"You can't fight that war all by yourself."

"I'm not."

"Yes, you are. And you're pretending it's a sprint when it's actually a marathon, Sirius. This war isn't going to end in the next few months. It could take years. Decades even."

Sirius cast him a sharp look. Regulus wasn't intimidated by it.

"To survive this war, we need you," the younger man continued. "But in order for you to survive, you gotta stop with the drinking. You have to allow yourself some time to rest and recover."

"You're making it sound like it's easy."

"I know it's not easy."

"People are dying, Reg."

Most recently that had become Sirius' knockout argument for everything. And there was very little Regulus could say against it. How could it not be right to help people?

"Do you know what Harry said to me today, about you? Even when he's with us he's not really here."

Sirius winced. "He really said that?"

Regulus refrained from rolling his eyes. "I wouldn't dare to lie to you. You know that."

Sirius hummed.

Regulus sighed. "Sometimes, when I don't know what to do, and when I'm afraid I'm straying from the path, I imagine what Father would've done. And then I try to do the opposite."

Sirius swallowed hard. He rubbed a hand over his face. His hair was unkempt and greasy.

"But sometimes that's not enough to help me get back on track," Regulus continued. "For me, the second step always was that I would also ask myself what you would do. Just to be sure that I'm on the right side."

Sirius glanced at him, his mouth curving into a smile. "Wow. Now you're buttering me up good, brother."

Regulus shook his head. "No, I'm not. Because my moral compass is broken. So, right now, I'm actually asking myself 'what would Mr. Potter say?' Would he tell me to shut my mouth and stand by as you work and drink yourself to death? Or would he tell me to shake you until you return to your senses? Until you return to your family?"

Sirius flinched. Pain flashed up in his eyes. "Don't," he croaked.

"What? Don't mention him? So you can forget all the things he taught you?"

Sirius put a hand on the mantle to push himself up and onto his feet. "I don't need this right now," he hissed. He made his way over to the alcohol cabinet. "Do you know what I've been through today? I work long, I work hard. I'm doing all I can. I can't do any better! That talk with Harry, all day it's been hanging over my head! And now that that's done all I get is accusations -"

He broke off mid-sentence. Regulus wrapped his arms around his legs, watched as Sirius stared inside the empty cabinet, the man's shoulders tensing up.

"Did you do this?" Slowly, Sirius turned around. His face looked as dark as a thunderstorm, his voice was low and his jaw clenched.

"Do what?"

"You're so dead," Sirius hissed.

Regulus forced himself to stay still, even when Sirius strode towards him, grabbed him by the collar of his jumper, causing the fabric to tear slightly as he lifted him to his feet. Regulus jutted out his chin. "What are you gonna do, brother? Punch me?"

A muscle in Sirius' jaw twitched. The man gave his younger brother a small shake. "It's easy for you to talk! You're sitting at home all day, watching Harry. Don't you think I'd like that too?"

"I don't know. Seems like booze is your priority right now, with work being a close second."

Sirius pushed Regulus against the wall. His face was twitching in anger, his fist tightening on Regulus' collar. "What an ungrateful bastard you are," he spat.

Regulus scoffed. "And this ungrateful bastard is going to take Harry and run. If you don't promise me to stop drinking, as soon as you let me go I'll grab Harry and we'll be out of here."

All color drained from Sirius' face and something like fear flashed up in his eyes. A moment later, he was clenching his teeth as a new wave of fury rolled over him. "The hell you are. You're not going anywhere!"

"How are you going to stop me?"

Sirius' lips, twitching, revealing his teeth. He seemed at a loss of words.

"You're not even going to be here to stop me," Regulus said. "You'll be at work. Or passed out on the couch. It's not like you'll notice that we're gone."

Sirius was shaking with fury. "You take my godson and leave, I'm gonna find you and I'm gonna come down on you like a ton of bricks when I do. You don't want me as your enemy, brother. You don't want that." His voice was dark as he spoke, like a new-moon night, threatening to drown the room in a shadow created by the rumble of his bass voice.

Sometimes Regulus wished he could hate Sirius.

"I'll take my chances with that. What are you going to do? Beat me up? That would suit your new lifestyle just fine. Yeah," Regulus prompted him, "Sirius Orion Black, being all his father's son. I'm sure he'd be proud -"

Sirius slapped him, hard, his palm colliding with Regulus' cheek.

Blood spurted from Regulus' nose.

And suddenly Sirius couldn't stop. He slapped his brother, left, right, left, right. Regulus head was getting smacked back and forth, hitting the wall.

Regulus raised his arms to block Sirius. Sirius' hand tightened to a fist. Regulus let himself drop to the ground, back sliding down the wall, arms protectively raised over his head. He wouldn't fight back, even when Sirius' arm slowed down and he sank to his knees in front of Regulus, breathing hard.

Regulus licked his lips, the taste of blood in his mouth. He rubbed his nose. Blood on his hand. He looked at Sirius. Couldn't quite believe it, no.

Sirius seemed to have similar thoughts. He stared at his brother's face, at the blood running from Regulus' nose and dripping to the floor, at his brother's split lip. He looked like he was going to be sick. With trembling fingers, he produced his wand.

Regulus flinched.

"Look at me, keep your chin high," Sirius said softly, before waving his wand, muttering "Episkey."

Regulus' lip felt very hot, then very cold. His nose stopped bleeding.

"Better?"

Regulus nodded.

"Good," Sirius croaked. He swallowed hard, his Adam's apple bobbing. Tears were in his eyes, and he clenched his hand to a fist, scooted away from Regulus, put his hand on the chair behind him and pushed himself to his feet. "I'm gonna get you some ice. Stay… stay here, I'll be right back." He backed out of the room, then sprinted down the stairs.

When Sirius was out of sight, Regulus pushed himself up, staggering a little. The back of his head hurt where it had hit the wall, but there was also a throbbing pain in his jaw and his cheekbones, and his left eye, under which he could feel a bruise forming.

He left the parlor, dragged himself into the small bathroom right next to it. In the old mirror that was covered with a thin layer of dust, his face looked pale and lifeless. He turned on the faucet, splashed a handful of cold water into his face, carefully patted it dry with an old, stinky towel.

Sirius appeared in the doorway. He looked absolutely horrible like he'd just descended into hell and come back. Sirius could say whatever he wanted about the basement but Regulus didn't think it was that bad.

"There you are," Sirius breathed, relief in his eyes. He was holding a white cloth filled with crushed ice. It was already melting a little, water was dripping from Sirius' hands. He handed it to Regulus. "Put that on your eye. Do you want me to get you any potions?"

Regulus shook his head. "No. That's not going to make it better, not really." Nothing was going to make him forget that his brother had actually hit him. He held the ice to the back of his head.

"You should put it on your eye or it's gonna be a bad bruise tomorrow."

Regulus screwed up his face. Sirius, always telling him what to do. He was thirty-three, for Merlin's sake. "What, I'll still look better than you."

Sirius didn't smile, his lips didn't even twitch. He wiped his wet hands on his trousers. "Are you… are your teeth okay?"

Regulus ran his tongue along the inside of his teeth. Nothing moved. "They're fine."

Sirius took a step into the bathroom, causing Regulus to cast him a wary glance. Sirius was blocking the only escape route he had. What Regulus didn't know was whether he did it on purpose or subconsciously.

"Are you going to simply stand here now or what?"

Sirius awkwardly shifted from one foot to the other. "What do you mean?"

"Why don't you leave me alone - go and get wasted or whatever."

Sirius took a shuddering breath. "I'm not doing that again."

"Yeah, right. Can you please step aside?"

Sirius hesitated. "Where are you going?"

"Upstairs. To my room."

Sirius turned sideways. Regulus squeezed past him. He heard Sirius follow him as he climbed up the stairs.

"Reg," Sirius said. "Reg, please -"

Regulus turned abruptly, glared down at his brother who halted a few steps behind him. "Stop. I'm done. I'm just done."

Sirius whole face was moving, his eyebrows swimming and his mouth twitching like his skin were made of water. "Reggie, I'm sorry," he pressed out. "Please don't leave."

Regulus leveled his brother with a hard stare. He hadn't really planned on leaving right now, but he'd be an idiot if he let that chance go. "I'm not going to leave Harry with a violent drunk. If you were still yourself you'd see why."

Sirius grabbed his hand. "Reggie, I promise - I promise I'm gonna stop. I'm stopping right now. Just - just don't leave."

"Are you sure you can keep that promise?" Regulus asked. "Remember, your word is your bound."

"I am," Sirius said quickly. "I promise, Reggie. I'm begging you."

Regulus went one step down. "Give me that bloody flask you're always carrying around. I know you have it."

Sirius reached into the back pocket of his trousers and pulled out the flask, put it in Regulus' open hand.

"Do you have any other hiding spots?"

Sirius looked away. "There's some more in my room."

Regulus raised his eyebrows. "Then what are you waiting for?"

Sirius swallowed hard. Without another word, he turned around, stumbled down the stairs. Went into his bedroom, Regulus following after him. Sirius had never been a tidy person but his room was an absolute mess. Regulus was shocked at the sight of dirty laundry and waste everywhere. No wonder Sirius kept the door to his room closed most of the time.

Sirius found two half-empty bottles of gin under his bed and pulled out a couple of beer cans from under his laundry. He turned, looked at Regulus.

"Pour it out," Regulus said.

Sirius nodded. Once again they went into the bathroom. Regulus leaned against the doorpost, holding the ice against his head as he watched his brother open one beer can after the other and pour them all out. The smell of beer filled the room. Sirius' brows twitched every time at the crack the tab made when pushed down but then he looked utterly disgusted as he watched the liquid go down the sink. The gin followed it down the drain shortly after that.

Regulus went to stand next to his brother, put a hand on his shoulder. For the split of a second, he caught Sirius' eyes in the dirty mirror as he was studying the bruise that was forming around Regulus' eye. Sirius quickly lowered his head.

"All right," Regulus said softly.

Sirius didn't look up. His hair was falling into his face. "I'll never forgive myself for this," he whispered.

"Don't be silly. You keep your promise and we're square."