Hi! Just some shameless advertising before we begin...
Want to see the events before this, when Sirius leaves the house? Check out chapter 2 of my other story, Flaws of Perfection (and the other chapters too).
If you like Regulus, try R.A.B., another one of my stories.
This is for the Reviews Corner Forum September Event (Honeydukes).
Prompt: (title) Fly Away, but Always Return
Fly Away, but Always Return
And with a slam of the door, Sirius was gone.
Walburga screamed, lifting her hands to her face and falling to her knees in anger.
He had always been perfect. Perfect went to almost perfect when he became defiant. Almost perfect went to not-so-perfect when he developed opinions of his own. In the spectrum of perfect until he had flown away to Hogwarts and returned … different.
That had made Walburga's heart shatter.
Orion sighed, closing his eyes and icily contemplating the loss of a son and heir.
Sirius had been too rash anyway. How could such a wild boy be a good head of such a noble family? It was a shame though. He had had the Black face - high cheekbones and curly black hair and stormy eyes. He would've looked the perfect figurehead. If only.
Regulus wept, because his brother was gone.
Gone.
Gone for good.
He wouldn't rush back through the door and slink, ashamed, back to his room. He wouldn't fly back through the window like that time when he was fifteen. He was gone forever.
They used to play pirates together. Or knights or powerful warlocks or dragons. Regulus would ride on Sirius' back as they charged the enemy, who had in fact been a cowering Kreature. Regulus would steer his ship towards Captain Sirius' own vessel, and they'd have mighty battles, even if they were on dining chairs. Master Sirius would teach Apprentice Regulus dangerous curses like wingardium leviosa, and together they'd become as powerful as the Dark Lord himself.
That was before. Before Kreature had become bitter from his punishments. Before Mother caught them on her dining chairs and beat Sirius half to death. Before the Dark Lord was a real person, one who killed. Before Sirius had estranged himself from his family, refused to come to meals or speak to them or obey them. Before Mother had finally snapped.
After, they'd lived in a terrifying few years. Sirius sat in his room, all alone, occasionally sneaking out to visit his friends. Regulus would listen through his door and cry as Sirius received punishment.
Now Regulus once again let the tears pour down his face as he shook with pain. There was a gap widening in his heart. A high ringing slicing through his thoughts. A pull in his gut. Pain, he realised. This was pain. This was grief.
He wanted his brother back. However many times his brother had flown away to the Potters' house, he'd always returned. Always.
But he wouldn't. Not this time.
Sirius might as well be dead.
He heard screaming from below him as Mother talked to herself. She was becoming madder and madder by the day ever since Sirius had been sorted into Gryffindor, when the whole fiasco began. Now, years later, she had become like a bomb. Ticking, ticking, quiet and menacing, and them BOOM, she was off on a tangent, ranting about Mudbloods and Blood traitors and the precious Dark Lord.
"GONE! SEE? I DON'T TOLERATE TREACHERY IN MY HOUSEHOLD. I WON'T HARBOUR A BLOOD TRAITOR FOR ANY LONGER! GONE!"
He had to step up. However much he had loved and admired Sirius, he'd been left in an impossible position.
"HE WAS THE HEIR! HOW DARE HE DISRESPECT HIS ANCESTORS IN SUCH A WAY?"
The Noble and Most Ancient House of Black had lost an heir. It'd need a new one. And who was next in line? Regulus. He hadn't been brought up for this, not like Sirius.
"DID I NOT BRING HIM UP HOW I SHOULD HAVE DONE? HE WAS MEANT TO BE RESPECTABLE! TO BE PURE!"
He'd need a respectable wife. Not kind or loving - respectable and pure. They were the essence of the Black family. Then he'd have to have children until he had a son who could take the Black name. He'd need to bring that boy up with a cold heart and a heavy fist.
He'd need to set a perfect example. He would have to control himself in public. Perfectly strict, cold, emotionless, powerful. He would need perfect grades and a respectable job. It was all about position, about respect.
There was a BANG from below him. A final screech from Walburga Black. Sirius was gone. Disowned for good. With only a smoking hole on a ratty tapestry to remember him by.
That finality struck Regulus. Sirius wouldn't sweep back in. He would never come back. Never.
He'd need to take Sirius' place. Sirius was wanted in the ranks of the Dark Lord. As the Black heir, he was going to be pressured into taking the Mark. And what then? He didn't want to kill, to torture, to create misery around him. He didn't want to fight against Sirius.
But if he didn't do what was expected, it would be him Mother cursed and beat within an inch of his life. It would be him left only as a hole on the tapestry. It would be him who was hated and scorned and hurt and eventually disowned.
And however much he wanted Sirius to fly back to him, to look to his little brother and give him that shining smile, he knew that he couldn't always return.
He would never return. Not again, and Regulus couldn't stop thinking that he'd been abandoned. It was a mantra in his head: alone, alone, alone. Alone with Father's cold heart and Mother's madness and the temptation from the Death Eaters.
Could he take the Mark? He didn't want to.
But this had been thrust upon him. Thrown onto his shoulders for him to bear without complaint. He couldn't bring himself to resent Sirius. It was his duty to maintain this position now that the original heir had escaped it. He had to. That was what his whole life meant. That was what the whole family stood for. Respect. Power. Purity.
Sirius wouldn't return this time.
With that fact, Regulus sat and cried. He knew what had to be done. He knew what he had to believe, to enforce.
Toujours Pur.