Hiya! Okay so this is just a little HP one shot I wrote. And yeah I know the title is sort of rubbish but couldn't think of anything esle.
Just a short piece between the brothers Black during their school years; Sirius comforts Regulus. Bit of dark depressing themes to it, revolving around their families ideals. Possibly a bit of a drabble fic.
Anyway read on and let me know what you think!
Disclaimer: I don't own HP, belongs to J. K. Rowling.
In an unused classroom on an unoccupied corridor, a shaken figure sat on the floor, beneath the broken window, knees drawn up to his chest, head hidden in folded arms.
Earlier he'd fled the Common Room; unable to remain there with all the talk about the War and how the purebloods will soon be running everything; as they should have been all along. The people in there were revelling in the latest unpure family to be purged by the Deatheaters. Such glee in a families vicious demise had been sickening to him.
Then there were his year mates, all talking about how they were planning to join up once they left school. Become Deatheaters and serve the Dark Lord; help achieve his goals; preserve the purity of the blood and traditions of their world. He just couldn't take their endless talk about how they will kill off the muggleborns and blood traitors.
The final straw came when Avery asked him how he would kill his own traitorous sorry excuse for a pureblood brother. They all grinned at him, expecting him to join in there revelling and plotting, talk about how he will make his own brother pay for betraying the purebloods and leaving the Most Noble House of Black traditions and ideal behind. Make him beg for mercy and then kill him anyway.
Soft sobbing now filtered through the room and down the corridor; if one were there and listened for it.
He could not believe how they could expect him to want to kill his own brother. The brother who he'd grown up with; who'd tried his best to protect him before Hogwarts; who'd keep their mother's attention off of him, so he could have time to himself; to muse, read and paint as he pleased. The brother who helped him to hide his artistic abilities from the family; such activities were after all unsuitable to a member of their House and of their ancestry. The brother, who even after joining Gryffindor, tried his best to be a good brother to him and convince him to do the same; to betray the family and be free of the lifestyle he now led.
To be free of the manipulations, treachery and violence and he'd been too scared to take it then...
...And now he was trapped. Trapped in it everything; his future set in stone.
Join the Dark Lord, torture and kill on his orders. That's all he had, if he disobeyed, the family and didn't join, he'd be dead. If he did join and failed; he'd be killed. Got captured by the Ministry with the mark on his arm; he'd go to Azkaban. If the Dark Lord lost the war, he'd be killed for his participation. If they won then his life would continue as it was now... but filled with even more treachery, violence and dark arts.
So lost in his wallowing, he didn't hear the door open or notice the cloaked figure who entered. Nor did he lift his head, when said person whispered silencing and locking charms over the room, along with a heating charm when they realised how cold and damp it was, which prompted them to cast a fairly accomplishable cleaning charm too.
He did notice however, when the person sat down beside him and pulled him into a hug. He would have struggled or fought had he not recognised the cologne of the stranger. Instead he relaxed into the person's side and cried into their chest. In return they just held him tighter, rubbing circles on his back gently.
After a spell they both pulled away and sat with their backs against the wall, side by side, shoulders just touching.
"Thank you." Was mumbled softly, avoiding eye-contact.
Silence met this before a stiff nod came, he caught it out of the corner of his eye.
"Why did you come?" He decided to venture the question, not sure he wanted to know the answer or get one. Afterall they haven't spoken to one another since the day of his sorting five years ago when he caved to the pressures of the family and chose them over his big brother; over the one person who's ever been honest and true to him. He was foolish then, thought he could still be the pride and joy of the family and have the love and support of his big brother.
A disgruntled snort was all that answered his question and a shifting of the body beside him.
Suppressing a sigh, he moved so that he was back against his brother; grateful that he hadn't left.
Despite that they no longer had anything in common, hell Sirius didn't even live at home anymore; he ran away over a year ago. 'Though in reality he was gone the moment he went to Gryffindor but I'd still hoped we could be brothers.' This time he did sigh aloud but no tears came forth.
They remained this was for a while; it was probably well past curfew by now, yet neither made a move to leave or fill the somewhat awkward silence.
"Be yourself, Reggie."
It was said so softly that he almost didn't catch it. Shock was evident on his face, followed by confusion.
"What do you mean?"
This time, he turned to face him. For once, his brother looked completely serious; he was not kidding around or mocking him at all here. He was sincere.
"It's killing you; pretending to be what you're not. You don't have to be either. You're strong Regs; stronger than you think and you deserve to be your own boss and person. Live your own life; your way. Not as their precious little puppet." With that he got up and headed to the door, pausing only to undo the wards he placed.
Just as he was half-way out the door, he paused. Turning back, he surveyed the crumbled form of his little brother and left with these parting words;
"Get out Regs... while you still can." With that he was gone, shutting the door softly behind him.
And Regulus sat there, completely stunned. He couldn't believe what his brother had said to him or rather implied.
'He still cares for me... but can I do it... just leave the family? I'm not him... I can't live on my own... but I can survive as I am now...?' Regulus sat there until the early hours of the morning, contemplating what his brother had said to him and how he was feeling.
In the end he did not act on his brothers words and Sirius did not try to speak with him again. It was not until his seventh year that Regulus realised the true meaning of the words and found the strength his brother spoke of... to break free.
Okay, well that's all. Hope you liked it.
Please Read and Review. Constructive Criticism Appreciated. Flamers will be Ignored.
