January 1969
Sirius and Regulus stood in the kitchen with their heads bowed and knees trembling. Their mother walked slowly back and forth in front of them, trying to decide how best to punish her sons. The only sound was the boy's ragged breaths and her heels clicking and echoing off of the stone floor. Walburga Black tapped her wand thoughtfully against her thigh, deep in contemplation. When she eventually spoke, her soft voice was barely above a whisper, "Did you really think you could hide it from me, Regulus?"
Sirius stole a glance at his mother. She always looked the height of propriety in her high-necked Victorian dresses, her kohl-black hair pinned neatly on top of her head. She was undeniably beautiful with her alabaster skin and high cheekbones - strong features which each of her son's had inherited. But Walburga Black's beauty was only eclipsed by her cruelty. Her cold grey eyes darted towards Sirius and his gaze quickly fell back to the floor. Regulus' breathing quickened but he remained silent.
"I want to know," she said carefully. "Where you got it."
She placed the offending item carefully onto the kitchen table so that it was eye-level with the brother's - it was a toy car. Sirius recognised the make and model immediately because he wanted one so much - a red mustang convertible with two white stripes up the bonnet.
"Well?" she asked again expectantly, almost sweetly. "Where did you get it?"
Still, Regulus said nothing. Sirius knew fine well where that car had come from; he'd stolen it from a Muggle corner shop before Christmas and been careful to keep it hidden beneath the floorboards under his bed, only taking it out to look over late at night before stashing it away again and dreaming of having a real one for himself. Regulus must have found it while Sirius had been out playing. Now thanks to his younger brother's carelessness, they were both in a world of trouble.
"I-" choked Regulus. "I found it outside."
"Lies," she hissed, her grip tightening on her wand. "You've been playing with the local mudbloods, haven't you?"
"No!" he cried, looking desperately up into his mother's eyes. "No, I wouldn't do that."
"If you didn't find it, and you didn't get it from a mudblood, then you must have stolen it," she reasoned. Regulus choked as she pressed her face close to his, "Thievery is on par with blood treachery in this house, boy. I will not have marauders and blood traitors for sons."
She straightened to her full height, looming over them both, "Your punishment will need to be severe to dissuade you from this sort of tomfoolery in future."
She raised her wand and pointed it at Regulus and he stiffened, readying himself for the first wave of pain.
"It's mine," Sirius admitted suddenly. "I brought it into the house. It's my fault, Mother."
Walburga lowered her wand and smirked at her son, "I already knew it was yours, Sirius. I just wanted you to admit it. Still, you saw fit to bring this Muggle contraption into our house. You might not think it much to be concerned over, but this is how it starts, boys - this is how the mudbloods get beneath your skin. They shower you in gifts and praises, they gain your confidence and then when your guard is down they strike."
She slammed palm down hard onto the kitchen table making Regulus jump with fright and the toy bounce into the air. It clattered back onto the table and began to slowly roll away, but Walburga took no notice of it. Sirius didn't react; he'd heard all of this many times before - mudbloods and their conspiracies to wipe out the purebloods. When he had told Frank Longbottom what his Mother had said, he'd laughed. Sirius thought it was nonsense too, but he didn't find it as funny.
The anger melted from Walburga's face and she said soothingly, "I understand, my sons. Mudbloods are by their very nature deceptive; it is not beneath them to seduce children with cheap trinkets like this," she waved carelessly at the toy car. "They often try to trick impressionable young minds like your own into their way of thinking. I do not blame you for being taken in by them, they can be very persuasive. Really, the fault lies nowhere but at their feet."
She paused to let those words sink in, to give the impression that perhaps today, they would avoid punishment.
"Still," she noted lightly. "You both lied to me. And that cannot be tolerated."
She swished her wand through the air and summoned the tawse. Sirius' stomach clenched at the sight of the thick, hard leather that split into two tails at the end. He'd felt the end of that belt more times than he cared to remember, but the sting from its tail never lessened. His mother snatched the belt out of the air and held it out to Sirius. He stared at the offering with growing confusion and dread, "Mother…"
"I've lost count the number of times I've used this on you, but the message never seems to sink in," she interrupted, her eyes flitting towards Regulus. "Perhaps if Regulus were to begin receiving punishments on your behalf, you might learn to lesson."
Regulus whimpered and bowed his head again. Sirius gaped at his mother and protested, "But that's not fair."
"And that is entirely your fault," she replied pointedly brandishing the belt in her son's face, but he didn't take it. She glared down at him and warned, "If you don't do it, then I will do it myself. But it will be twice as hard for twice as long."
Sirius glanced at his little brother who stood shaking like a leaf beside him, staring fixedly at his feet. Sirius' head was spinning - the last thing in the world he wanted to do was hurt him, to punish him for something that wasn't his fault. But his mother's threats weren't empty - he knew she would hurt him far worse than he ever could. As his internal conflict raged on he stood immobile, undecided. Walburga sighed impatiently and raised the belt at Regulus, "Very well, I'll do it myself."
"No!" snapped Sirius snatching the belt from his mother's hand. "I'll do it."
Walburga smiled appraisingly at him, "Good boy. Five lashings should do it. Regulus - your hands, please."
Regulus squeezed his eyes shut tightly and raised his palms in offering to his brother. Sirius felt sick - Regulus' hands were so small, the flesh of his palms pale and unmarked unlike his own. Every fibre of his being was screaming against him at what he was about to do, but he knew that he was saving his brother a far greater punishment in the long run. He brought the belt down hard with a loud crack.
Regulus lay on Sirius' bed sobbing silently. His hands were so badly swollen that he couldn't even clench his fists. Sirius gently lay a hand on his brother's shoulder, a small comfort to what he'd just put him through.
"I'm sorry," he muttered. He didn't know what else to say. He meant it, too. Regulus sniffed back snot and tears.
"I know," he replied thickly. "It was my fault. I shouldn't have taken it from you."
"You shouldn't have gotten caught with it," Sirius corrected him. "And this isn't your fault. It's hers. She's just an evil old hag."
Regulus shook his head but said nothing. Sirius sighed - there was no point in trying to convince his brother otherwise - even after this, in Regulus' mind his mother could do no wrong. It was easier to shoulder the blame than to accept what his mother really was. Sirius slid off of the bed and pulled back the loose floorboard and began to rummage through the gap in the floor, "I've got something that'll make your hands feel better. Just give me a sec."
Regulus watched his brother with interest, a welcome distraction to the welts forming on his palms. After a few moments Sirius pulled his arm out of the floor holding a small glass jar. Sitting back onto the bed he unscrewed the lid and scooped a foul-smelling yellow clay onto his fingers.
"Here, give me your hands," he asked. Regulus tentatively brought his hands forwards and flinched when Sirius began applying the substance to his inflamed skin. To his surprise and relief, the pain in his hands began to ease.
"What is it?" he asked.
"Murtlap essence," explained Sirius, now applying the salve to the other hand. "I made it myself - it really helps after she's used the belt or if father...you know. Not much I can do about the effects of the Cruciatus, unfortunately. I just have to suck it up when they decide to use that."
Once Regulus' hands were completely covered Sirius wrapped them in bandages. His hands were still throbbing, but the pain had definitely lessened. Once Sirius was finished he gave his brother an appraising smile, "Better?"
Regulus nodded. Sirius stashed the jar and bandages back under the floorboard and pulled out a comic book, "Have you read the newest issue?"
Regulus shook his head. Sirius flopped onto the end of the bed and opened it at the first page, "You fancy reading it?"
"Where did you get it?" he asked.
"Stole it," Sirius replied simply. He rolled his eyes at his brother's incredulous expression and explained, "Well, I couldn't buy it, could I? She always checks what we spend our pocket money on and if she found out I'd bought another one of these I'd get it worse than you just did. Martin goes to Atlantis in this issue, it's really good."
"I'm not in the mood," he murmured, burying his face into the pillow. Sirius tossed the comic onto the floor and lay down next to his brother on the bed, wrapping his arms around him tightly.
"Better?" he asked. Regulus nodded. They lay there in silence for a long time, not that there was much to say. It was a fairly regular occurrence for Sirius to get beatings and he had learned to take them somewhat in his stride, but this was the first time he had been made to punish Regulus. His little brother seemed rattled by the ordeal. Not that Sirius wasn't upset of course, he was just less surprised by what his mother had done than Regulus was. It had been a particularly cruel and clever move on her part, he thought; if pain wouldn't keep him in line, perhaps guilt would.
Desperate to distract Regulus from the pain in his hands and from his own overwhelming guilt, Sirius began to quietly sing a lullaby he had heard his Aunt Druella sing:
"Bright morning stars are rising
Day is a breaking in my soul
Where are our dear mothers
Day is braking in my soul…"
He paused to gauge Regulus' reaction. After a moment, Regulus shakily sang the next line:
"Where are our dear fathers
They have gone to heaven a shouting
Day is breaking in my soul…"
They lay their singing to one another - quietly so not to draw their mother's attention. As they sang, Sirius closed his eyes and imagined that the music was carrying them both far, far away from this place, up into the sky and amongst the stars just like in the song. They were singing for happier times that he knew would never come for them, but it was nice to pretend at least for a moment that he and Reg were anywhere else but here.
"You think we'll go to Atlantis one day?" asked Regulus suddenly.
"Course we will," Sirius lied.