Regulus stared at the ceiling of his room.

His room, like Sirius', was at the top of many flights of stairs in Grimmauld Place- and yet he could still hear his mother and Sirius arguing.

He couldn't hear the words that were being said, but the volume drummed through him.

"Kreacher," he said softly. With a crack that he was used to now, the house-elf appeared.

"Yes, Master Regulus?" Kreacher said, bowing low. Regulus sat up.

"What are they arguing about, Kreacher?" Regulus said. Kreacher heard the sadness in his voice, and laid his head in his lap.

"Mudbloods, Master Regulus," Kreacher said. His voice was like the Sorting Hat's- croaky, but smooth at the same time. "Master Sirius says he won't ever call them that. Mistress Black doesn't agree. And Master Sirius thinks you shouldn't be encouraged into the Dark Lord's service."

Regulus sighed, looking at the beginning of his wall dedicated to the Dark Lord. Paper clippings, blurry pictures of the Dark Mark in the sky. His brother disapproved- but then his brother disapproved of anything that wasn't lions and scarlet and all things Gryffindor and good.

"It's none of his business," Regulus muttered, patting Kreacher's head.

"That's not what Mistress Black is saying," Kreacher said. "She thinks Master Sirius should be part of the Dark Lord's regime. He is sixteen, after all. When do you plan to join, Master Regulus?"

"I don't know." Regulus' voice was soft enough that he himself barely heard it. "Soon, I hope. I want to join. I want to fight. Bella's already joined- I don't want her too far ahead."

"Master Regulus is only fourteen," Kreacher pointed out. "The Dark Lord wants his followers seasoned."

A blood-freezing scream came from downstairs. Regulus gently set Kreacher's head to the side, and went to his wall of darkness.

"I won't be fooling around with friends by the time I'm sixteen," Regulus said, snatching up a locket he had found in the Slytherin common room. It was small and marble green, and he had liked it the moment he had set eyes on it.

"When I'm his age… I'm going to be doing something better. Something proper. Not messing around with Potter." Regulus spun, the locket's chain digging into his hand. "I'm doing my OWLs this coming year… Sirius did well in his… but I'm going to do better."

"I believe you can, Master Regulus," Kreacher said, and Regulus smiled. He had long ago ordered for Kreacher to only tell him the truth- and if Kreacher believed he could do it, he believed it, too.

"After my OWLs, I'm going to join Him," Regulus said, twisting the locket around in his hands. "And I'm going to be His most loyal… His most trusted…. His…"

The door slammed open. Kreacher disappeared with a loud crack. Sirius stood in the doorway, his eyes wild and his hair messed up. His door was open, and Regulus could see his possessions flying around the room into an open suitcase.

"Come with me," Sirius whispered, stepping into the room.

"To where?" Regulus asked, swinging the locket.

"I can't tell you unless you come." Sirius looked close to tears.

"No," Regulus said shortly. Sirius grabbed his arm.

"Please, Regulus!" he said. He grabbed him into a hug, and began crying into his chest. Regulus pushed him off.

"No!" Regulus said. "What happened? Why the hell are you crying?"

"Mother used crucio on me," Sirius whispered. Regulus stared at him, before turning away to look at the wall. He tried to read one of the articles.

"Mother wouldn't do that."

"To you, maybe not. But she did- and father just stared." Sirius took his hand, and turned Regulus back around, gently.

"If mother uses it on you, and I'm not there to protect you… I could never forgive myself. It would be worse than a hundred tortures, worse than a thousand years in Azkaban. What would you do, Reg? I wouldn't be there. You have to come with me."

Regulus didn't snatch his hand away. He put his free hand on Sirius' cheek, which was wet with tears.

"I would tell Kreacher to find you, and then I would go there," Regulus said calmly.

"Kreacher would tell mother."

"Not if I told him not to. He actually likes me, remember? You know, because I treat him like I would someone else?"

Sirius shook his head slightly. "Come with me."

Regulus stepped away. "With you gone, brother, there'll only be one Black brother left. Mother may not look for you- but if we're both gone?"

"Please."

Regulus turned away. "No. Go."

A few seconds later, he heard Sirius slam his trunk shut. He turned back. His brother was at the door again.

"My fireplace is blocked," he said. His Gryffindor scarf was trailing from his neck. His eyes were frightened.

"Feel free to use mine," Regulus said. His brother smiled gratefully, and took a handful of Flu powder from the pot Regulus had. His eyes darted to the Dark Lord's wall, the Black family crest, and the Slytherin banners. But he said nothing.

"Wait," Regulus said, and Sirius froze, turning back to him. He looked so vulnerable. His red and gold jumper was so large it practically swallowed him, and the scarf made him look a lot younger. His eyes were wide with fear and glistening with tears.

Regulus took out his wand, and Sirius flinched. Regulus laid the point of it on his head.

"Potuissent sequi," Regulus muttered. "Non potest audire. Nequit ad legendum. Nequit ad videndum."

"What?" Sirius whispered as Regulus put his wand away rather smugly.

"She can't track you, see you, hear you or use legilimency on you," Regulus said proudly. "You're completely safe."

Sirius pulled him into a fierce hug.

"James' house. Don't say a word." He pulled back, and Regulus winked, tapping his nose. Sirius' mouth mashed together.

"I'm going to miss you, Reg," he said.

The two brothers jumped as they heard someone stomping up the stairs.

"Go," Regulus hissed. "See you in September."

"See you." Sirius took out his wand and set a fire going. He threw in his Flu powder.

"The Potters' house!" he whispered, and disappeared in green flame. Regulus quickly put out the fire as soon as he had left.

"Sirius!" He heard his mother fling open his brother's door and start searching. He sat on his bed, took a few calming breaths, and closed off his mind. He picked up a book and pretended to read.

Sure enough, Walburga Black stormed in.

"Where is he?" she hissed, stepping towards Regulus.

"I don't know," Regulus said simply, and looked down at his book. I am ice. I will not break.

"If you're lying to me…"

"I'm not."

Walburga's mouth twisted. "So he's gone then."

Regulus shrugged. "Dunno."

His mother's eyes narrowed. Her hand twitched to her wand. Regulus' mouth dried. If she used the cruciatus curse… he didn't know how long he would last.

"You sure you don't know anything?" she asked him. The silence was heavy. It crushed his lungs, his heart.

"No."

Her eyes narrowed further. She grabbed his arm.

"Prove it."

He let her lead him down the stairs, wondering what she was going to do. Was she going to torture him? Or question him? Maybe she'd use a truth potion. His hands began to sweat. He hoped she couldn't feel it.

She took him to the living room. Kreacher was there in the corner, twisting his fingers.

Mrs Black handed him her wand, and pointed to Sirius' name on the Black Family Tree. It was next to his own.

"Blast it off," she said. Regulus dropped the wand.

"No!"

"Yes, Regulus! Now!"

"He's my brother!"

"Not for long," Orion Black said from behind his paper. He was sat quite casually, one leg slung over the other. Not the typical pose or calmness of someone who had watched their son being tortured. Regulus set his jaw.

"I'm not going to. And neither are you. He's still… still…"

"A blood traitor," Mrs Black spat, and Mr Black nodded in agreement. "A disgrace. An abomination. Not worthy of our blood. Toujours Pur, Regulus- always pure. Now, clip off the dead branches."

Regulus folded his arms, and stood in front of the tree. "No. Sirius isn't dead."

"He is to us." Mrs Black picked up her wand. "Don't make me make you, Regulus. You're the good son, remember? The only Black left to carry on the line."

"What will you do?" Regulus demanded, trying to keep his voice steady. "Torture me like you did Sirius? I won't fight you, mother. But remember that if I join the Dark Lord, he won't look favourably on… on you. So, don't."

His mother frowned slightly. His argument didn't make sense to his own ears. Mrs Black raised her wand, and Regulus tensed. A jet of magic went to burn Sirius off of the family tree. Regulus shot his hand out, and screamed in pain, holding his wrist to his chest.

"Idiot boy!" Mrs Black roared, and shot it again. This one hit Regulus in the stomach, and he bent in the middle, howling. She shot it again, and this time it hit Sirius' name. Regulus cried from a different pain. He knelt on the floor, his sore hand held close to him, his other hand on his stomach, his throat searing from the pain of voicing his agony so loud.

Mrs Black stood over him and pulled him up.

"You're a Black!" she roared, pinching his ear in her fingers. "And we do what is necessary to keep our bloodline strong, healthy- we don't have blood traitors like that mudblood-loving scum, you hear?"

"I hear!" Regulus howled. "I hear!"

"Good." She let him drop, and Mr Black followed her out of the room. "Dinner will be ready in an hour."

They left him crying on the floor. He must have stayed there for a good few minutes before he could handle the pain and control his voice.

"Kreacher," he said, and Kreacher padded to by his side.

"Yes, Master Regulus?"

"Are your hands cold?"

"Quite, Master Regulus."

Regulus unbuttoned his shirt from where he lay. He kept his eyes shut- but Kreacher gasped in what couldn't be a good way.

"And my hand," he said, as Kreacher laid a hand on his chest. He held his hand, and Regulus squeaked. The burning heat and the cold of Kreacher's hand hurt, but in a good way.

"Take me upstairs please, Kreacher," Regulus said. "To Sirius' room. I don't think I can walk."

"Yes, Master Regulus."

Regulus heard the beginning of soft sobbing coming from where his mother had stormed off to. The house was silent other than that. He would feel bad for his mother under different circumstances- she had just lost a son, as much as she had hated him- and she might think she was on the way to losing another. But Regulus was laying on the stone floor, a house-elf's hand cooling down the burns she had given him. She wasn't going to lose him- but he wasn't going to comfort her, either.

They disapparated with a crack.