Written for Round 1 of the QLFC. We're back! :3 And hopefully I'll be more active soon...sorry! I had to write about siblings, so I hope you like it. Review if you like it. Also, some slight Remus/Sirius
When someone knocked on Sirius's door that night, he pulled himself out of bed, disentangling himself from Remus as he made his way to the peephole.
He didn't expect the person he saw when his eye peered through that tiny Muggle lens. He'd thought perhaps Dumbledore, who liked to come personally when he saw fit, or James and Lily in an impromptu nighttime visit. Peter came once in a great while, bearing fruit and a sloppy grin. Others came too; friends, comrades from the Order, people to talk to Remus. It was a time of war, and that meant more contact with others than ever.
Never, not once, had it been Regulus.
Sirius had never wanted it to be.
"Bloody hell," he muttered, drawing his wand from his underpants and carefully opening the door, ready to poke him in the eye if need be. Or worse, of course, but Sirius didn't want to think about that.
"Wait!"
When he opened the door, Regulus scooted in fast, like he expected Sirius to change his mind. To be fair, Sirius hadn't exactly made up his mind.
"What do you think you're doing?" he hissed, waving his wand around in frustration so much that sparks began to fly out of the tip.
"Visiting my brother," said Regulus calmly, walking down the hall.
"I'm disowned. You're not my brother."
"Mother disowned you. Not me."
Sirius laugh, the harsh bark jarring in the dead calm of night. "Maybe not technically. But it's been years now. Years, brother. You might have well as."
Regulus turned towards him, and Sirius's eyes widened. He looked terrible.
"You look terrible," he said.
Regulus frowned, the his fingers ghosting a bruise on his too-pale cheek. "I cleaned up before I came."
Sirius examined the man in front of him critically, his mood souring further. Regulus hadn't shaved in a couple days, his thin, sharp face much more pallid and clammy than usual. Bruises littered his face from his left eye to his jaw and his long, bony fingers tapped nervously against his pants leg.
"Doesn't look like it."
Regulus licked his lips. "Can we sit?"
"Fine."
Sirius beckoned for Regulus to follow him. He did, like a skinny, pale shadow of himself, even loudly scraping his chair against the floor the same way as Sirius. Of course, the scraping woke up Remus, a light sleeper who'd probably been disturbed when Sirius had clambered out of bed.
Remus appeared at the corner of the door, looking almost as bad as Regulus with the bags under his eyes and the fresh bandages around his shoulder, which, of course, was visible because he was shirtless.
Remus analyzed the situation quickly, running his hands through his hair, which was puffed up from bedhead. He yawned and said, quite sleepily, "Tea?"
Regulus stared at Sirius like a deer caught in wandlight. Sirius stared at Remus. How could he be so nonchalant?
"Yes please," said Regulus quietly.
"Good," said Remus decisively, stumbling to the kitchen tiredly to put a kettle on.
Sirius and Regulus stared at each other. The silence hung on them, seeming as tired and angry as they were.
"What the hell happened to you?" said Sirius finally.
Regulus coughed. "I came to see you."
"Yes," snapped Sirius, leaning forward and unconsciously baring his teeth. "You did. Which means the world must've turned upside-down or Merlin himself appeared to you in a dream. What the bloody hell is going on with you?"
Remus reentered the room holding two cups of tea.
Regulus took a deep breath. "I wanted to see you one last time."
Remus, to his credit, did not drop the tea. He delivered it very carefully before shooting Sirius a look of concern and stumbling back to bed. Sirius would have to thank him later.
"Doesn't this go against some code?" muttered Sirius. "Some super secret Death Eater code, I mean. Where you can't tell me anything. Even your brother, who you didn't disown. Because you're evil."
Regulus's pale cheeks flooded with color, his dark eyes flashing. "We're not- oh, you wouldn't understand."
Sirius growled. "Yeah, yeah, Dumbledore says you're not evil, but you know what? The things you do are pretty evil. So you can take your-"
"Stop!"
Regulus didn't shout. When he was mad, he spoke in a low voice full of menace or whined, depending on the validity of his anger. He didn't like loud noises and preferred to settle things the Slytherin way, with cold, hard reason.
And yet, he'd shouted. Sirius shut his mouth quickly and listened.
"I'm not here for arguments. I'm sick of that. We both know we had enough of that at home."
"No shit."
"Please, Sirius."
There was something in his brother's voice that made him pause, that gave him the time to finish his thought. Desperation? It was hard to tell.
"I can't tell you what I'm doing. Not you, not anyone."
"Then why-"
"Hear me out!"
Regulus stood, beginning to pace with a strange fervor. "I can't tell you what I'm doing. I really can't. Merlin, I'm dying to, I am. Maybe you would hate me a little less. But I can't."
It sounded like he was trying to talk himself out of something. Sirius wasn't sure whether he was angry or not. He wasn't sure how he felt at all, other than a pervasive numb feeling that was permeating his entire body.
Regulus turned dark, dead eyes towards him. They'd never been like that before. Dark, sure, every member of the Black family had those eyes, but not dead, not like that, not the Regulus he'd known.
"You'll probably never know why I'm here," said Regulus, voice low and husky, filled with an emotion Sirius couldn't identify. Not desperation now, though. "Please, though, know that I love you. You'll always be my brother."
And before Sirius could think about it, before the thought could process through Sirius's mind, he was off his chair and pulling his twig of a brother in for a hug, the last hug both of them knew he would ever give.
"If I find out you've died killing good people," he muttered. "Or you've murdered the Prime Minister or something...I'll find and make you take this hug back, got it?"
"Got it," mumbled Regulus, head smushed against Sirius's shoulder so that his hair was tickling his cheek.
"Good."
"I should be going."
"I know."
Regulus drank the dregs of his tea, his eyes lingering on Sirius's face as though to drink him in.
"I'm proud of you, Sirius," he said quietly. "You made the choices I never could."
And then Regulus left, leaving Sirius to collect their empty cups and wash them, taking longer than he should have because of all the thoughts swimming around in his head. After he finished the dishes he stumbled back to bed, where Remus was waiting.