Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter or any associated characters, places and events.

The Respect of the World

On September 2nd, Regs woke early and felt snakes writhing in the pit of his stomach. He crept downstairs, much like he had the day before, clad only in his light sleeping garments, and entered the dining room. It was not long before the window darkened, and Regs leapt up to open it for the incoming owls. A barn owl delivered the Daily Prophet, and Regs hastily placed the required coins into its leg pouch while it clacked its beak impatiently. Two owls arrived at once after that: an eagle owl with bold markings carrying several papers for Father, and a grey owl with a letter for Mother with handwriting that Regs recognised. He stared at it for a moment before he placed it as Narcissa's and he swallowed and thrust it on the table where Mother sat, not wanting to think about its contents, or why Narcissa would be writing to Mother.

He sat by the window, waiting for the last owl he knew would be coming. It was only as his parents entered the room and house elves began to appear that there was movement from the window and Regs leapt to his feet with a jerking motion, wanting Mother to read this one before Narcissa's, because hers was sure to be vindictive and cruel. Sirius deserved a chance to have the first word. Regs almost wished he could have hidden his cousin's letter, but then, shocked at himself, banished the thought. His first loyalty was to his family, and the authority of his family was his parents… not his brother. Who was he to hide or delay his mother's post?

But his movement caught Mother's eye and she also came to the window, watching Sirius' new barred owl, Hyperion, wing silently into the room with proud strokes. He had two notes – one for Mother and one for Regs. His heart leapt but he took the paper with elegant nonchalance. Inside, he was bursting with eagerness, and he took the letter into a corner, sitting on a footstool to break the seal with fingers that didn't – didn't! – tremble. He barely noticed Mother issuing orders to the House Elves for breakfast; didn't register consciously that she might be delaying reading her own missive. The first fold came away and words leapt out at him, making his heart pound fiercely.

…hardly know…

…into Slytherin…

…Narcissa, of course…

…seem like a decent sort…

…but who would…

…anything, Regs…

He blinked and swallowed hard, straightening the parchment and reading it with a mixture of trepidation and fervour.

Dear Regs,

I hardly know where to begin. I suppose seeing as Mother will no doubt read her news at the same time, I ought to tell you the most important detail first. I did not get sorted into Slytherin. No, instead I barely had time to blink before my Sorting was done. And it was Gryffindor – I'm in Gryffindor. I can't even bring myself to accept it.

I know the Sorting is supposed to be a secret but I don't care. You're the only one who I can talk to about this. It's a Hat – don't laugh, it's an ancient magical artefact, made by Godric Gryffindor himself. It has a sentience and reads your mind or something, looks at all your qualities. For some, it debates for a few moments, talks to them, narrows down their options. And for others it barely needs to think. It was quick for me – two seconds – I heard it say that Slytherin wouldn't do. There wasn't even a choice, nor a chance to explain. How can they be so certain that so short a time is sufficient to know a person and where he might be happy for the next seven years? Or maybe it does know better. Can't rule that out, really.

Regs gripped the letter tighter so that it didn't fall from his nerveless fingers. He flinched as Mother started to scream and rage, as she reached for her wand and twirled, looking for something to hex. He saw the paper from Sirius lying crumpled on the table. Bright sparks of red and a burnt sort of purple flashed across the room. An elf squealed loudly and something smashed into a thousand tiny fragments, spinning through the air almost in slow motion, burying themselves in the wooden panelling. Father's silence was infinitely more ominous, and he turned and left the room, the door closing with a sharp snap. Mother continued to screech obscenities, but Regs had to finish reading his letter. He focused his eyes again.

Narcissa, of course, was disgusted with me. She didn't even look at me after the Sorting, and it looked like some of the Slytherins were sneering at her. It's going to be a nightmare. I'll never be able to escape her. All I can hope is that her OWLs keep her busy this year. Andromeda smiled at me though. She always was my favourite cousin. I just really, really hope I never cross the Slytherins in a dark corridor. Narcissa will never forgive me for this – but it's not my fault!

My housemates seem like a decent sort, at least. Some of them gave me nasty looks and I have an inkling that they don't trust me at all… but they're loyal, for all I can work out. Stick together. There's the Potter heir in my year too – swotty sounding kid for sure. But the worst bit is I have to room with him – there's four of us. A pudgy chap who seems rather excitable and nervous – Pettigrew, I think, and he's either half-blood or only pure within a generation – and a fellow who hasn't said half a word since we got here. He looks rather under the weather but he wouldn't let anyone help him. He's probably a half-blood too – his clothes are hardly more than rags. But Potter – he's exactly the sort Mother wanted me to avoid – along with the lesser purebloods, like this Pettigrew character. And the quiet one – well, for all I know he has Muggles for parents – in fact this whole bleeding house is just a disaster waiting to happen. What am I going to do, Regs?

I only wrote Mother a brief note – better she hears from me what happens, I suppose. Not that I really wanted to tell her – but who would want to tell their family that they've disgraced them before they even sat a class? I'll write you all the time, I promise. I'm going to need to hear from you if I want to get through this. Seven years of this! I'd do anything, Regs, to change it. They don't look friendly on that other table, but the stares and the glares are getting to me already, and it hasn't even been a day. Slytherins who hate me for deceiving them, betraying them, and Gryffindors who probably hate me because they think I should be in Slytherin. At least I have some classes tomorrow. Maybe we'll do some magic.

I have to go now – the shower is free. But I'll write again later – tomorrow probably. I'll tell you all about the train ride and the castle. It's not all bad. I just have to look at it all from a different table to the one I was expecting.

Write me back Regs, I'll need it. Please.

Sirius

Regs swallowed, his throat tight. Oh, boy…

Quietly, he left the room, his stomach rolling. Food was the furthest thing from his mind. He pretended that he couldn't hear the thumps and shouts from the rest of the house and raced up the stairs on quiet and nimble feet, shutting his door quickly. He leaned against it from the other side, pressing his back against the cool, dark wood, and slid down until he could rest his head on his knees. Oh, boy.

Gryffindor. It was unthinkable, unimaginable… and exactly what Regs had expected. Which was exactly why it was such an awful thing – it was real. No dream, no nightmare. Sirius would come home wearing a red and gold tie, talking about a tower, and not the dungeons. He would talk about beastly Slytherins as though they were his enemy, would shout for his Quidditch team like a maniac. He would be rowdier, prouder, fiercer. He would be untameable. Untouched. Strong.

Regs pressed his fingers into his eyes and struggled not to make a sound. Sirius was what Hogwarts needed. They needed him, exactly the way he was, not cowed into submission and pricked and poked by his green and sliver-clad cousins.

At least this way he would be free. He would be openly shameful to his family, not scandalously shameful when the Slytherins made him pay for his misdeeds and then tried to cover it up and mock him at the same time. That would be a worse hell for him. At least this way, he didn't have to live with them.

But Gryffindor! Mother would be frightful. Father would be terrifying. And Regs… Regs would be happy for Sirius, because Sirius would be happy. But his entire family would expect him to continue shaming Sirius, to be disappointed in him. And they would be ashamed and disappointed in him if he didn't join them! He was stuck in the middle. What was more important to him, his family's needs or his brother's? His pride and his honour and the approval of his parents? Or the lonely, desperate camaraderie that Sirius would need more than ever now?

So was it in the end, himself or his brother? Was that the choice he would be required to make? He knew something of the sort would happen sometime, especially now that Sirius' sorting was confirmed, but to happen so soon? Regs was beginning to realise that Sirius was never going to fit neatly into the picture he was drawing of the future, and his place in it. Sirius would be on the side, doing something completely different, in the opposite direction – maybe even against him. It wasn't wrong for Regs to know exactly how Slytherins thought, what they believed, and understand their reasoning. That was who Regs was. If Sirius believed something different, that wasn't something either of them could change. There shouldn't be right and wrong between brothers, not a light way and a dark way. Because Regs didn't think what he believed was dark, or more right than what Sirius believed. It just was. It was the way his world was coloured. It was his everyday, his normal. Purebloods were best, magic was might, honour was paramount. Ambition was power. Power was greatness. Greatness was just. They were all links of a finely-woven chain, and Sirius was in a different pattern. It was as it must be. But how was Regs supposed to deal with everyone else?

Selfish or unselfish? But surely it wasn't selfish to make himself his own priority? That was normal. Would anyone else with his dilemma be so indecisive? He wished there was someone he could talk to! His parents weren't even an option. Uncle Alphard – no, he would take Sirius' side. Sirius was his usual correspondent for such matters, but Sirius was biased anyway – he usually argued for the unselfish sort of choice. Regs needed someone who could weigh up his options all laid out like breakfast by the house elves, pros and cons all there for him to analyse…

House elves… Kreacher! Regs called out for the little elf, with his face still streaked, lifting his head from his knees.

Kreacher popped in and bowed low, keeping his eyes averted. "Yes, Master?"

Regs was momentarily taken aback. "Kreacher?"

The elf didn't move. "What does Master Regulus require?"

Regs dropped his knees and sat up. "Kreacher, please look at me." The elf looked up, baring his bruised face to Regs. "Kreacher! What happened?"

"Mistress is not liking Kreacher's face today, Master. Kreacher is keeping himself to himself. What can Kreacher do for Master Regulus?"

Regs was quiet for a moment. Mother had taken out her rage on the house elves. Of course she had. "I would like you to seat yourself or stand however you feel comfortable, Kreacher," he said quietly. "I was going to ask you something, but it really isn't your trouble to bear. You'll have things to be doing soon enough, but I think I'd just like you to rest up here for a few moments."

"Master is kind," Kreacher croaked, slowly straightening from his bow. "Kreacher lives to serve his Mistress and Masters. There is always work to be doing."
"I know you do, Kreacher," Regs whispered. "And I know I'm keeping you from your duties and you'd probably be happier doing them. But just for a moment. I… could use your company too."

"As Master wishes." And so Kreacher stood quietly with him for a few minutes, while Regs fought harder than ever, thinking furiously, warring within himself to make a decision. And even after he'd let Kreacher go back, after he'd squeezed his fists against his head in turmoil, a singular true answer did not come to him.

"Come on," he growled to himself. "You have to choose."

Or did he? Could he be ambivalent? Could he dance around the issue? Or agree with both parties independently? No… when Sirius came home, he would have to atone for that kind of action. That wouldn't be fair.

It was about respect, though, really. What did he crave more? The respect of Sirius, his brother, his closest friend; or the respect of the world? Regs fought down his instinctive answer, then let it rise against his will, knowing it was waiting for him, where he refused to acknowledge it. Sirius was one person. His closest confidante, certainly, but he would be one man, and Regs did not think he would do as much good in the world as Regs could, not for the right cause. In that case, Regs needed the support of those who would not remember him as the brother of someone who was – well, who was like Sirius. They would dredge up any support Regs had given to Sirius and use it against him. The whole world was going to be ripe for his picking one day, when he was ready to take it. And Sirius would be just another person on its surface.

Not just a person; a pureblood, a Black, a friend, a brother – a person of his own flesh and blood. Someone who had shielded him from harm, who had given him everything, unselfishly, since he knew what giving meant. And what would Regs see on Sirius' face if Regs couldn't return the favour?

But it shouldn't be a favour, he argued with himself. It was natural for Sirius. If it wasn't for Regs, then it would insult Sirius to return it without meaning. It would make Sirius feel cheap. Like he had bought and paid for it, not gifted it.

Regs tightened the walls around his heart a little more. He took a deep breath. So whose respect was worth more in the long run? In terms of his own happiness – Sirius'. In terms of his ambition – everyone else's. And happiness or ambition? His ambition would bring him happiness, undoubtedly, so logically, realistically, efficiently, even –

"Everyone else," he whispered. "But Sirius will always be my brother."