Sirius could not keep his promise.

"I'm sorry, Regulus," he said quietly. In his hands, he held a basler, and nervously tightened his fingers around it. "I didn't think it would be that big of a deal. I didn't think anyone would notice. I'm so sorry; I should have been more careful, I should have thought of you before getting myself hurt."

He meant what he said—Sirius, though selfish at times, was not one to lie—but Regulus felt no comfort in his words. It was all the same to him in the end. He fell to his knees in front of his brother and fixed his eyes on the cold dungeon floor. "Is there somewhere I need to be tonight?" he asked.

Sirius nodded, and then, after realizing Regulus wasn't looking at him, said in a deliberately calm voice, "yes. There are more people here at the castle than ever: soldiers, blacksmiths, lesser sorcerers. Even the wolves are feeling the anticipation, though they will do little to help us. Father is convinced the werewolves are poised to attack us at any moment."

"What am I supposed to do?"

Sirius crouched down in front of Regulus and set his dagger on the ground. He took Regulus's head in his hands. "Beat them to it."

Regulus closed his eyes. "How long do I have?"

"Nearly six hours, long enough for the bleeding to stop," said Sirius grimly, taking his basler back in hand. Gently, he threaded his fingers through Regulus's black hair and pulled, exposing his pale throat. "Shh, you must be absolutely still so I don't hit an artery. Don't move, and stop breathing, just for a second."

Regulus stilled obediently, and Sirius, anticipating that his brother would flinch, pressed the blade firmly but harmlessly into the side of his neck. Like he predicted, Regulus jumped a little, but then froze again, and Sirius began to work.

He cut, sawed, and scraped, making a cut as long and wide as his own. The blade, unhappy from moving so slowly, snagged on slices of skin. A warm, metallic scent filled Sirius's head. He finished quickly, and then fell back from Regulus, who instantly clutched his hands to his throat and gasped for air.

Shaking violently, Regulus held his hands before his eyes. Blood ran in dark rivulets down his palms and wrists. Dimly he heard Sirius's weapon clatter to the floor.

Then he was being lifted and taken to his bed where Sirius sat down with him and held him close.

"It's done, it's done…" he whispered over and over again while holding one hand tight against the gash. "It's done, the bleeding will stop soon. Then it won't hurt anymore…"

Regulus wanted to nod, but felt lightheaded. He leaned heavily into Sirius and either passed out or slept.

When Regulus awoke, he was in much the same position. Sirius still had a gentle grip on him, but had all but pulled him into his lap, and was stroking his hair.

"How long's it been?" mumbled Regulus. His head was still a little fuzzy, and he was uncomfortably aware of the blood pounding in his throat.

"A while," Sirius answered, gently smoothing a finger over Regulus's eyebrow.

"Should I be getting ready?"

"Probably," said Sirius, but he didn't move.

With great effort, Regulus sat up. His neck throbbed. "Is that what we're wearing tonight?" he scoffed, indicating Sirius's deep red robes. "I hope I haven't gotten too much blood on them."

"I can get that off," offered Sirius, running his hand over the fabric on his shoulder and side, vanishing the dark stains Regulus had left as he'd laid against him. Once it left the body completely, Sirius could easily magic the blood away, only when it remained stubbornly attached to a person did he have troubles. Even the queen, who was adept at mending bones and bruises, could do little for cuts and slices that allowed blood to pour from their vessels.

Regulus turned away from Sirius and stood up. "As long as I don't have bloodstained clothes to begin with," he said humorlessly. Sighing, he took off his shirt and threw it back on the bed.

Sirius watched as his brother disrobed completely and then stared at him expectantly.

"Well?" he asked.

For a minute, there was silence. Then Sirius motioned for Regulus to come sit by him again.

"If you want my clothes so badly, come take them off me."

Regulus sat back down. "You're impossible," he said, twining his fingers in the clasps of the robes and tugging. Layer by layer, he peeled the expensive outfit off Sirius until finally the two of them were kneeling naked on the bed in a pool of red fabrics.

Sirius leaned forward and kissed Regulus boldly on the corner of his mouth.

"You're going to be fine," he said shakily. "Everything's going to go perfectly. You'll kill their leader, and you'll do it so well that no one will even notice until you're long gone and back here with me, and safe."

"Kill the commander?" asked Regulus. He sounded incredulous. "Is that what the king will have me do tonight? At dinner?"

Sirius wiped the dried blood off Regulus's neck until only the ugly, red scab remained as evidence to the wound. "A war is starting no matter what. These last negotiations, they're just formalities. Mother and Father wish to start the fighting on their own terms, to spill the first blood."

"Hm." Regulus leaned back and Sirius's body followed.

"You'll be…brilliant," Sirius reassured with a cracking voice. "They won't know what hit them, and…and you can tell me all about it afterwards."

"Yes," Regulus agreed mindlessly. He dug his fingernails into his palms desperately to offset the pain and soreness in his neck. Sirius was so close to him, and his breath was ghosting over Regulus's shoulders. He could feel those spikes in his belly again, sharper and more visceral than any time before.

Sirius buried his face in Regulus's neck and they both toppled into the pile of robes on the bed. Regulus felt a wetness again below his chin and at first thought his cut had split back open, but no, Sirius was crying.

"This will be the last time," Sirius insisted. His voice broke as he leaned back to look Regulus in the eyes. Then he leaned down to kiss him again. Their tongues collided and Regulus felt the daggers in his abdomen scraping deliciously against each other. His and Sirius's bodies were creating a maddening friction, driving away his pain and discomfort.

Sirius broke away from his mouth and moved down. Gently he rested his head over Regulus's heart and listened. Regulus played idly with Sirius's hair with one hand, and stroked the fabric surrounding them with the other.

"The last time for what?" he asked, looking away. "The last time you see me? The last time you touch me?"

Sirius moved back up Regulus's chest and kissed his cheek. "The last time I let them send you anywhere in my place," he whispered. "Next time, it will be my turn to protect you."

Regulus snorted lightly and pressed his lips to Sirius's forehead. "Next time," he said. "It's always next time, isn't it?"

Sirius whined and ran his hands over Regulus's body. Regulus enjoyed the attention for a few moments before pushing himself and Sirius into sitting positions. "I shouldn't be late to dinner," he insisted. Sirius blinked at him, hurt. "Please help me get dressed."

"Regulus."

Regulus could see, perhaps for the first time ever, true fear in Sirius's eyes, a fear of loss. It threatened to consume him whole. It was with automatic efficiency that Sirius's hands began to move, helping Regulus slip into the clothing he himself had discarded previously.

"The faster I leave…the sooner I can get back," Regulus assured him. It felt strange to be the one making the promises. "And I expect to pick up where we left off."

Sirius tightened Regulus's collar, straightening it just right. He smoothed Regulus's ruffled hair and straightened his sleeves in that way only a big brother could manage. He nodded mutely to Regulus's words, too upset to speak.

When Sirius was finished, he stepped back and into Regulus's discarded shirt and pants. As he pulled the shirt over his head, he felt Regulus's small hands helping guide it into place.

"There," said Regulus. "Now you stay here—"

"—Regulus—" Sirius gripped his hand tightly.

"—and I'll be back by midnight, that's a half an hour after the fire dies, and we can switch back."

"Regulus, next time I promise—"

Regulus slid his hand out from Sirius's and touched it lightly to his swollen and wounded throat. "Yes, Sirius," he murmured. "Next time."

Regulus gave Sirius one more kiss, which he was too distraught to return, and then turned away. Without any explanation, he picked up the blood stained basler Sirius had carved his neck open with and stowed it inside his robes before exiting the dungeons without a word.

Sirius swore he could feel his heart wrench with every step Regulus took away from him. Alone, he sank to the floor and leaned against the bed, gazing despondently into the fire's writhing flames.