"Shadows and Light"
Spoilers: Books 1-7
Characters: Sirius Black, Evan Rosier
Warnings: A little violence, character death.
A figure sat hunched behind several waste bins just outside the Hog's Head, blending in with the shadows that darkened the alley. Hogsmeade was utterly quiet, owing in part to the fact that a group of Death Eaters had been seen entering the village by the High Street earlier in the day. Every door was locked and every window shuttered against any evil they might do. It seemed their errand had little to do with any of the townsfolk, however. Rather, they had spent the afternoon and evening hours shut up in a back room of the bar.
The man behind the bins stirred as laughter erupted beyond the door closest to him. He could tell they'd been drinking, as their boasts of victory had grown considerably louder. It was no matter; his task would be easier if his target was caught off-guard.
He'd been waiting since shortly after they arrived and his muscles were stiff from crouching so long in one position. He knew that, even drunk, a Death Eater was a force to be reckoned with. A cornered one might prove deadly. His friends likely would tell him that he'd been a fool to come alone, but this wasn't something he could share with them. This particular demon was his to fight.
Suddenly the door opened, and a dark-haired youth of about eighteen stumbled into the alley, laughing.
Careful not to make a sound, the man stood finally. He guessed what the boy had come out for, but time was of the essence. Stepping out from behind the bins, he raised his wand and took aim.
"Expelliarmus," he hissed.
There was a rustling of cloth and the boy's wand flew out of his robes, landing neatly in the man's hand.
"Muffliato," he said, even as the boy realized what was happening and cried out.
The boy turned, and his eyes widened for a moment. In an instant, they had narrowed again, and the boy was lifting his chin in a rather insolent gesture. He clearly did not fear his attacker.
"Come to kill me, Black?" the boy asked.
"I'm not a Death Eater, Rosier. I don't kill for sport," Sirius answered. He took a step closer to Rosier, his wand still raised. "Where's my brother?"
"I thought all you Gryffindors kept track of one another," Evan said. "I expect he's off with that mudblood wife of his."
The smile Evan turned on Sirius was particularly cold and he knew he'd struck a nerve. He couldn't resist another jibe.
"What, has Potter given you up for a bad job already?"
Sirius bristled and red sparks fell from the tip of his wand, held out by a hand that trembled with barely-checked anger. He had not come to be toyed with.
"I meant Regulus, you half-wit."
"Now, now, Black. Your muggle-loving friends wouldn't want you calling people names," Rosier taunted. "Besides, you were the one who left him and ran off to play poor and misunderstood with a bunch of half-breeds and blood-traitors. Why should you care what's happened to him?"
As soon as he could blink, Evan found himself pinned against the wall of the Hog's Head, Sirius' wand tip digging into his throat.
"Where is my brother?" Sirius demanded. "Or I swear I will hex you until you wish I had killed you."
"Dead," came the reply.
"You're lying. I just saw him two nights ago."
"He's dead," Evan repeated, a note of bitterness creeping into his voice.
"How do you know?" Sirius asked, tripping over his own feet as he took several steps backward. "Who killed him?"
"I don't know who did it. I only know that he's dead," Rosier said, shoving his hands into his pockets. "I went to Grimmauld Place to speak with him and the house elf told me. He wouldn't say what happened, only that Regulus had warned him not to tell his…your mother. That was all I could get out of him. 'Master Regulus is dead, and Kreacher couldn't save him. My poor mistress is all alone' he kept saying."
Sirius looked as though he had swallowed something nasty.
"He was my best friend," Evan went on, more quietly than before, so that Sirius barely heard him. "He deserved better."
Several moments passed in silence before the boy stepped forward to pick up his wand. Once he'd retrieved it, he disapparated, rather than returning to the bar. Sirius never moved in all that time, staring hard at the ground and trying desperately to accept what he'd heard. His brother, his little brother, dead.
He never told James or Remus or Peter what had happened. His pain was a private thing. Some ten months later, Evan Rosier was killed in battle. When dark had fallen the day he was buried, Sirius crept from where he'd been hiding and made his way to the mound of freshly disturbed earth. He knelt and gathered a handful of dirt. This he placed in a small flask, which was then tucked away in his robes. Through misty eyes, he read the inscription that had been magicked onto the stone and thought not of the boy who lay sleeping beneath the ground at his feet, but of the one who'd gone before.
"You take care of him, you hear? And tell him…tell him I'm sorry."