X.

Sirius' scream was lost beneath the thunder that rolled overhead.

"What is it?" Remus demanded as he bolted awake, his voice still scratchy from sleeping. He heard shuffling and then light danced from Remus' wand to the rest of the room.

"It is Regulus," he said, his heart beating erratically. Cold beads of sweat ran down his face.

"Sirius, you were dreaming," Remus mumbled, lying down again. "Go back to sleep."

His eyes landed on his nightstand. A framed picture of two young boys was on it, wearing emerald and bright red robes, a matching grin forming on their faces as the picture captured the moment and repeated it over and over again.

They were young and happy, ignorant to what the future held for them.

"No," Sirius said, as he watched his brother laugh. He gripped the dirty sheets beneath him tightly. "Something is wrong."

The world twisted and moved around him. When Sirius opened his eyes, he found himself in front of 12 Grimmauld Place. He never thought he would ever come back here.

He took his wand out of his pocket and murmured a spell, making sure that his parents weren't inside before he entered the house.

He called for Kreacher and the elf showed up a second later.

"Where is he?" He asked.

Sirius saw the look on the elf's face and something twisted violently in his stomach.

He swallowed. "Where is he, Kreacher?"

Kreacher shook his head.

"I demand you tell me where he is."

Kreacher shook his head again, furiously this time. There were scars all over his body, old and new. He recognised some from Kreacher's methods of self-punishment.

The elf went on his knees, his hands leaning on the floor beneath him, ready to hit his head on it.

"Stand up," he said hurriedly. Despite everything, he couldn't bear to see the elf hurt himself.

Kreacher obeyed slowly. His bony limbs were shaking.

"Where are the rest?"

Kreacher shrugged. "Master Black doesn't tell Kreacher or anyone where he goes anymore."

"And Mother?"

Kreacher shook his head again. "Kreacher barely sees Mistress. The house has been abandoned for some time now. Kreacher has been keeping the place clean, waiting for Mistress to come back."

"No one comes? Not even Bellatrix?"

"She came once, and asked Kreacher about Master Regulus," he said.

"Kreacher." Sirius went on one knee. "Just tell me. Is he…" He paused. The words were stuck in his mouth, unwilling to come out. He didn't even want to consider it. "Is he dead?"

Kreacher looked at him and let out a heart-wrenching sob.

Sirius' heart fell.

"What happened?"

Kreacher started to shake violently, tears falling down his blotchy face.

"Kreacher," he stopped, voice cracking. Pressure built up in his temples. He swallowed and tried again. "What happened?"

Kreacher stared at him for a long time. "A duel," he said at last. "Master Regulus was having a duel with someone. He lost." And with that, he disappeared.

Sirius stayed at home for weeks, waiting for anyone to come. He wondered if his mother was mourning Regulus. He wanted to scream till she heard him from across the world. He wanted to hit his father, to hurt him until all what was left of him was a bloody mess. He wanted to get back at him for everything he had to them. But most of all, he wanted all of this to end.

He never saw Kreacher. The only indication that he wasn't alone in the house were the meals that he found around three times a day. He heard the regular footsteps and thumps coming from upstairs. Kreacher walked around the house like a ghost, always disappearing before Sirius could see him.

Sirius' hands were loosely bandaged when he too tired to stay awake. Trickles of blood seeped through the thin material, covering the floor beneath him. Chairs, mirrors, and tables lay broken around. There was something satisfying about breaking things with his own hands.

He clenched his hands into fists, letting the physical pain take over his mind and every part of his soul.

In the bedroom, he found a damp letter on his bed. He read it over and over again until everything became dark and blurry around him; until he couldn't stop the shaking of his limbs. There was a sadness caught in his throat like a cobweb, and he couldn't cough it away.

Moonlight shone, breaking through the dirty window, illuminating the last lines of the letter in his hand, and Padfoot whined.

Sirius,

Believe me when I say that I didn't have much choice,

But now I do.

I intend to keep my word for you and die fighting.

I miss you more than I can ever say.