A/N: Thank y'all for reading and reviewing! I can't say it enough, but every single response I get makes my entire day. A special thank you also to the guest reviewers - I find it so impossible that I can't thank you individually, because you definitely deserve that just as much as everyone else. So - thank you, Kam, Ariana, ooshaboosha (did you change your name?), edame, Gina, Lou, and the other anonymous ones.

Some of you asked for more one-shots. I am definitely willing to write some more, if you're interested. If you have any requests, any suggestions whatsoever, please let me know!

If you want to contact me (this regards the guest reviewers in particular, but everyone else too of course), you can also do so on tumblr because at least I can reply there (And I hate long A/N on fanfiction; I can never answer every question here). Just write me a message or an anonymous ask.

You can find me on tumblr under the same name as on here: riakida

Sirius had never in his life been so keen on entering this house, despite the fact that this was basically the lion's den - or rather, the serpent's nest. He could barely restrain himself and wait until the others were on their designated posts. It was like the world had gotten out of joint and its center had been relocated to this dark place where his little brother was being kept. The rest of the world had nothing left to offer him, not without his brother - his most important person in the world - alone with those maniacs in that house.

Hidden under their invisibility cloak, the two young men waited for Moody's signal. The others would wait outside and stay hidden unless Sirius and James called for help. Anything to prevent the outbreak of a war. They were already at war, at least as far as Sirius was concerned.

"James," Sirius whispered. "You take the portkey."

"Do you think there's gonna be a fight?"

"I don't know. If Reg is with Bellatrix, we're gonna have to come up with something, create a distraction. Or we'll fight."

Then the sound of a crow cawing twice - their signal that the others were prepared and looking out for them. Sirius and James began to move into the direction of the house.

"Mum and Dad are gonna be so pissed in case we disobey them."

Sirius suppressed a sigh. "Yeah. But I'm not going to leave without my brother."

"I know." James didn't sound overly concerned about this. "Nor am I."

Lestrange Manor was mostly dark; only from the windows on the first floor, where the parlour was, came light.

"Maybe we should use another entry," Sirius suggested, considering that the back door lead directly into the parlour. "I'm not keen on having to deal with her this soon."

James agreed. They went around the house, careful to stay close to the walls and in the shadows where the trail of footprints they left in the snow wouldn't be too obvious.

"Do you think he's gonna come with us on his own?" James asked. "Without making a fuss?"

Sirius chewed on his lips. He'd been so focused on making a plan on getting his brother out of the house that he hadn't really considered the possibility that Reg might resist and put up a fight. What if Regulus was still so angry that he refused to come with him? Still, Reg belonged to him, and not to Bellatrix, but Sirius wasn't sure whether his brother was completely aware of the danger he was in.

"It's not like I'm gonna give him a choice."

"Yeah… but he's probably gonna be against it by principle. That's how he is, the little brat." James pursed his lips in his best impression of Sirius' brother. "How dare you rescue me from this place! I'm almost an adult, I can take care of myself, I don't need your help, or anyone's help - just fuck off and leave me alone. Put those chains back on me and don't forget to lock the door you just unlocked!"

Sirius' lips quirked upwards. "You're forgetting that he hates me, so I would get the silent treatment. He would write me a bloody note and then push it through the gap under the door."

James chuckled. "Or he's gonna be like this: 'Potter, tell him to fuck off.'"

"Yeah," Sirius mumbled, the corners of his mouth quirking upwards. "At least he's still talking to you."

Sirius' smile froze. Amusement overwrought with bitterness created a stale taste in his mouth. It was wishful thinking, they both knew that. The chance of finding Reg unharmed, well enough to grumble and complain, was frighteningly slim.

They reached the servants' entry into the basement. Everything was dark, and they had to watch their steps as they carefully climbed down the frozen stairs to the door.

James produced his wand. "Aloho-"

"Wait," Sirius hissed. "Magic might set their wards off." He pulled a penknife out of his pocket, opened it and inserted the blade into the crack between door and doorframe. Then, he quickly slid the blade up and down. A soft crack and the lock sprung open.

James raised his eyebrows. "Good thinking."

"Yeah, well, we can't take risks, not this time."

The basement, a maze of dark rooms not separated by doors, was cold and smelled of old wood, mold, and dust. The rooms were crammed to the ceiling with all kinds of stuff, from old chairs stacked upon damaged and broken furniture to tottering piles of books and a collection of animal skulls. There were hundreds of jars, stored in warped shelves along the walls, some filled with homemade preserves and others with potion ingredients. A jar of rattle-snake tails, a bowl filled with frog eyes. With the light from his wand, James looked around in fascination, marveled at an old knight's armor that was almost completely hidden under a thick layer of spiderwebs, whereas Sirius kept his focus straight on the exit, carefully squeezing his body along the narrow corridor that led through those mountains of collectives. He had seen all of this before, when playing hide and seek with Regulus in the basement at the age of maybe eight or nine. This hadn't been allowed of course, but the boys had excused themselves to the bathroom and then they had started exploring. To their right side, the corridor led to the house elf's sleeping place and the kitchen. They would have to pass them in order to get to the stairway and up to the first floor.

They had just turned around a corner when their cloak got caught on some decorative hooks that sprouted from the edges of an old metal chair. James stumbled and fell, tried to catch himself at his friend's sleeve but no avail. He took Sirius with him, and together, they almost set off an avalanche. The mountain of junk to which the chair was attached rocked dangerously, and for a moment, both of them simply stared at it, petrified, afraid to make a sound, afraid that even the slightest breeze would set off a domino piece and trigger a catastrophe.

A jar of dried spider legs crashed to the ground, sent shards sprawling all over the floor. They winced, James closed his eyes whereas Sirius held his breath and watched the door, listening for any sign of footsteps approaching, but nothing happened.

The rest of the mountain remained firmly in place.

Sirius glowered at his friend when he had gotten over his shock. "For Merlin's sake," he hissed.

"Sorry." James looked at his hands. A red scrape-mark now grazed the side of his left palm, caused by the fall. He closed his hand to a fist.

Sirius took a shuddering breath, tried to calm his nerves.

They reached the bottom of the stairs. Sirius crouched down, motioned for James to get close.

"I'm gonna transform now," he whispered. "If anything goes wrong, go and get help, don't wait for me. I'm only gonna leave here with my brother, or I won't leave at all."

"Yeah, right, because I would leave without you."

"Get help and return then."

"Just dog the line, Padfoot." James rolled his eyes. They both knew that neither of them would ever leave the other's side in a situation like this. The only way to get through this was to do so together.

Sirius smirked. "Smell ya later, then."

He transformed.

He could sense that his brother had been here. Not right here, not in the basement, but in this house. He was still here too, he could smell his presence.

Padfoot couldn't hear his voice, though. There was a shrill sound coming from the first floor, one that made Padfoot cock his ears and suppress a growl. Bellatrix' voice, he recognized her instantly. There was a second, lower voice, responding to hers, a muffled yet approving echo of her words.

James paused. "Are they close?"

Padfoot shook his head ever-so-slightly. He climbed the stairs, carefully checking them for creaking steps before they would have to carry James' much heavier weight, knowing James would follow his lead.

During their many nights spent in the Forbidden Forest with Moony and Wormtail, they had gotten so used to the others' body language and non-verbal signs that they had quickly learned to communicate without words. And especially Padfoot's dog skills - his hearing, his sense of smell, his good instincts - had proven to be extremely useful when it came to sneaking around the castle, looking for secret passageways.

"I wish I could let the stag out of the bag," James whispered.

Padfoot wished that too. But a stag on old parquet would be like a bull in a china shop. James often complained that, at Hogwarts, his animagus form only ever got to see the forest whereas Padfoot and Wormtail were free to roam the hallways without raising too much attention. On the other hand though, a team of wizard and animagus had its benefits, as the wizard in question (James or Remus) was able to hold the cloak and use their wand when the animagus couldn't.

Padfoot nudged the basement door with his snout, carefully pushing it open far enough so they both fit through. The first floor was not quite as dark as the basement. Light shone from the gap under the door to the parlour, and through the windows, a sliver of moonlight created a blueish outline of their surroundings.

Unlike James, Padfoot didn't need to rely on his eyes to see the room. There was a variety of odors in this place that lit his way the same way bright daylight would have - candle wax on the floor and flame in the air left the strongest impression, then tapestry and mold mixing and clinging to the walls, a sniff of walnut and hazelnut, and dinner must have been a juicy roasted chicken.

While Padfoot kept his nose down, James raised his gaze and studied his surroundings through the thin fabric of the Invisibility Cloak. The walls were decorated by half a dozen portraits, all different in size, style, and motive. A man in armor was snoring in a large portrait near the stairway, leaning on a pike. An elderly woman had fallen asleep in a giant armchair, her small frame almost disappearing in between several plush pillows nestled around her. They had to be mindful of a picture of a woman to their left who was rocking a creature that looked like a baby at first but at a closer look revealed to be the body of an infant with an adult man's bearded face.

Padfoot sniffed around. A feint echo of cigarette smoke, days old, hiding in cracks and grooves. A bouquet of withered roses, just barely kept alive by magic. A wet wool coat on the coat rack, farther down the floor.

Bellatrix' tangy feminine smell stuck to every spot in the room, and Rodolphus' more masculine one as well, as was expected. James should consider himself fortunate that his nose didn't have to suffer the full extent of how bad evil people smelled. There was something more complex to a person's scent than their odor alone; it was like evil thoughts sept right through a person's pores and left a spiky trail of maliciousness hovering in the air, which, to dogs, was incredibly repulsive. Cats, on the other hand, didn't seem to care too much, a fact that unsettled Padfoot and simultaneously affirmed his suspicions against them. Cats probably had too much criminal energy in their veins already to feel repelled by the scent of evil.

Padfoot also noticed that they must have had visitors not long ago, dozens of shoe-sized sheens of mud, dirt, and gravel still covered the ground, smells that were distinctly different and didn't have their origin here, or anywhere close to the house.

There was something worrying him, something about the scent of Regulus. It was strong on the ground, too strong, a continuous line that led from the parlour to the stairway. The unsettling image of his brother lying on the ground, being dragged along, formed in front of Padfoot's inner eye.

He kept his focus on this single smell now, his brother's smell, and followed it. It wasn't Regulus' usual one either, but a harsher, sweatier version of the usually crisp and boyish scent Padfoot knew. The stench of fear lay in the air, and Padfoot knew that they had hurt his little brother.

On the stairs, the track changed again, wasn't as close anymore, but instead hovered a few feet above the ground. Beyond them, Padfoot heard Bellatrix. He shifted his hairy outer ears back. "Still, it's a shame. He seemed so promising in the beginning, so dedicated."

Padfoot bared his teeth. As much as he wanted to run down there and attack that horrible woman who had kidnapped his brother, it was Regulus who was of first priority. And Regulus was upstairs, Padfoot could sense his presence. His little brother, he was close. Padfoot's heart fastened at the thought, and he nervously wagged his tail. He was dying to get to the boy, to see whether he was fine, to take him home, to make sure he was safe -

to hug him and never let go.

A creaking step under Padfoot's paws, and he looked at James, then skipped the step. James, bending forward to ensure that the cloak still covered the both of them, followed Padfoot's example. The stairs were steep and well-trodden, and James grabbed the railing tightly. Climbing these narrow stairs together, under the cloak, while making no noise at all, was harder than they had expected. James had some difficulties maneuvering the cloak so that they wouldn't accidentally step on it and risk falling.

They had almost reached the top when there were footsteps. Light and soft, short steps, like a child's. They both knew, however, that what came from the first floor and would inevitably collide with their invisible form wasn't a child.

It was the Lestrange's house elf.

Padfoot stiffened. The elf wasn't there yet, but it was only a question of seconds. He had to warn James, James had to take care of this.

James, whose human reaction time was always a little bit delayed, bumped into the dog. Padfoot kept his gaze strictly focused on the direction of where the elf would come from, and James sucked in air through his teeth. Padfoot saw him raise his wand, and the dog prepared to attack the elf in case James missed.

It was only a split-second later that an old house elf appeared on top of the stairs. Pixie, Padfoot remembered her.

"Stupor!" A flash of red light and Pixie dropped to the ground, unconscious.

They hurried past her.

"Which door?" James hissed.

It wasn't as easy anymore to track Regulus' scent, it seemed to be everywhere and yet nowhere, the trail that, downstairs, had been strong and clear was now wavering and erratic. The boy must have been carried upstairs, this was the only way one could leave a trail like this.

Padfoot's nervousness rose. He scudded from one door to the next, anxious for a sound, a smell, any sign of his brother.

He stopped in front of the last door to their left. Regulus, he had to be in there, Padfoot could sense it. There was a dark sense of danger surrounding that room.

"Alohomora." James held his wand so tightly that his knuckles went white.

The lock opened with a metallic click. Padfoot slipped under the hem of the cloak and shook it off, pushed the door open and entered, closely followed by James.

Not far from the windows lay a figure, on the side, moonlight spilling throug barred windows onto narrow shoulders.

Padfoot rushed over to him, not caring anymore about keeping silent. Regulus' eyes were closed and there was dried blood on his lips and forehead, gluing disheveled strands of black hair together. His skin was as white as porcelain. Padfoot gently nudged the boy's cold cheek with his snout.

No reaction.

"Regulus," James called.

Padfoot transformed and within seconds, Sirius appeared. He dropped to his knees, bent over the boy, checked his pulse. A breath of relief on his lips - Regulus was alive, he was simply unconscious.

"Reg," Sirius said, shaking the boy's shoulders, trying to wake him up. "Reggie? Come on, open your eyes for me, please."

A moan, coming from a sore throat. The boy stirred. Sirius took Regulus' hand, squeezed it gently. "We're here, Reggie. We're gonna get you out of here."

Eyelids twitched, opening and closing again, pupils not dilating, not finding focus in the darkness of the room. But Regulus' fingers, closing around Sirius'. Tears rose in Sirius' eyes. With his other hand, Sirius gently brushed Regulus' hair out of his face.

"Boys, you're so predictable, I'm almost disappointed."

Sirius and James whirled around.

Bellatrix was standing behind them, in the corner, her body a mere silhouette in the darkness. She was smirking, lazily pointing her wand at them. "After all the stories that I heard I expected you to be a little more… sneaky? Oh well, men rarely match the myth in cases like yours."

James turned his head, cast a glance in the direction of the exit. Rodolphus was blocking the way, a malicious grin on his face. They were trapped. Maybe Pixie had woken up and informed her masters, or Bellatrix had expected them to come here sooner or later, and had only waited for their arrival.

James acted quickly, fired a spell at Bellatrix. She blocked it effortlessly, chuckled. "You better practice that one again. Potter, is it? Expelliarmus!"

His wand was ripped out of his hand and he was thrown back, landed on the ground behind Regulus.

Sirius raised his wand too, pointed it at her. He moved to stand in front of Regulus so that he shielded his brother's body with his own.

"How cute," she sneered. "You actually want him back? Are you sure, though, after all that he did? Sirius?" His name on her lips a snarl. She left the corner, took her time as she approached them slowly, enjoyed watching their panic grow, like a cat playing with a mouse between sharp claws. She could kill them without any trouble, but chose not to, not out of mercy of course, but because she wanted to see them suffer first.

Sirius aimed a spell at her. She waved her hand, caused his magic to rebound on him and clash with his shoulder. His wand clattered to the ground, rolled away. He wanted to pick it up but Rodolphus was faster, stepped on it with his boot.

The sound of wood breaking sent shivers running up and down Sirius' spine. Crackling laughter came from Bellatrix' direction. "Oopsie."

James, also disarmed and still on the ground, moved closer to Regulus. Bellatrix and Rodolphus were closing in on them.

"What did you do to my brother?" Sirius' voice was shaking with anger.

"He was a tiny bit reluctant when it came to following orders recently. He will learn his lesson."

Sirius bared his teeth. "He's got nothing to learn from you, bitch!"

Bellatrix laughed. She stood close to them now.

Out of the corner of his eyes, Sirius saw James reaching into the pocket of his coat. Time. All they needed was a little bit of time. He backed away until his heels touched Regulus' back.

Ten. Nine. Eight.

"Treachery, is that what you're talking about? True, that's your expertise, not mine. Regulus will learn his place with me," Bellatrix hissed. "That, or he'll follow your example and pay a price so high he'll wish he was never born. Just as you will. Traitor."

Seven. Six. Five.

She stood only an arm's length away from him now, pointed her wand at his chest as if to stab it right into his heart. "But don't worry. I think bearing witness to your end will be deterrent enough for him."

Four. Three.

Sirius scoffed. He took note of James taking Regulus' hand, intertwining fingers. "You're fucking pathetic, Trixie," Sirius spat.

Her eyes flashed dangerously. She had always hated that name.

"Crucio!"

Gasoline in Sirius' veins, a single spark, and fire spreading, hungrily licking at his flesh.

Two.

Sirius, dropping to his knees in front of her as his insides convulsed in pain.

A hand firmly grabbing at his shoulder. James. Sirius could always count on James.

One.

The ghost of a smile tugged at the corners of Sirius' lips as his eyes met his cousin's, pain sealing his teeth.

Satisfaction at the look of surprise on her face.

Gone.

They had a hard landing on the floor of Hogwarts' hospital wing. Madame Pomfrey, who had been reading in the nurses' room, hurried towards them.

"Look after Regulus," James pressed out. He was still holding tightly to the boy's hand, had brought Sirius and Regulus through the portkey's vertigo of time and space before collapsing on the ground, breathing hard, completely exhausted.

Sirius, who had tried his best to shelter his unconscious brother's impact with the hard stone floor, had Regulus' head on his lap. The boy was breathing in short gasps. Traveling via portkey had taken a heavy toll on him.

"Oh dear, oh dear." Madam Pomfrey made a movement with her wand and Regulus' body was floating onto one of the hospital beds.

There were other students around, awoken by the loud arrival of Sirius, James and Regulus - two first years who had come down with the flu and a third year who'd gotten into a fight with a classmate that same day. They were sitting up in their beds, furiously rubbing their eyes.

"Get back to sleep," James said to them. "We're fine."

"Fine? Is he even still alive?" The third-year nodded in the direction of Regulus.

James drew his eyebrows together at the rudeness of that question. "He better be."

Madam Pomfrey opened Regulus' eyelids, checked his pupils. Then his pulse. "The poor boy," she commented. "What happened?"

Sirius was holding his brother's hand tightly. "Bellatrix Lestrange. She kidnapped him. She hurt him." His voice was weak, but trembling with anger and worry.

A few potions came floating towards them, alighting on the table next to Regulus' bed. Madam Pomfrey ran a diagnostic spell on the boy. "The Cruciatus Curse," she mumbled, barely audible. Her lips thinned. With a wave of her wand, the curtains around Regulus' bed were drawn shut, shutting out the other children's curious looks. They closed directly in front of James' nose too, and the young man gave a huff. "Gonna call the others back, then," he said.

No response came from the other side of the curtain.

James fetched the mirror and called his parents. A few moments later, Dumbledore appeared, closely followed by Mr. and Mrs. Potter as well as Alastor Moody. Mrs. Potter immediately went to hug James tightly.

Dumbledore cast a short look at the curtains, already knowing what was behind them.

"Was there a fight?" he asked.

"I'd rather call it a distraction. We had to activate the portkey. Sirius was hit by a spell, and we were disarmed. But that's it."

On the other side of the curtain, Madame Pomfrey administered several healing spells on Regulus. "The Cruciatus Curse really is a horrible curse," she said. "It attacks the victim's magical core rather than the physical body. The magic that is being destroyed within the body causes the victim an unbearable amount of pain; and the longer it goes on, the worse it gets." She cast Sirius a quick look, to see how he took the news. "I don't want to scare you, but with this particular curse, there's only so much I can do. The physical damage that is done is repairable in most cases, but sometimes - when the torture has gone on for hours and hours - the magical core of the victim might be damaged beyond repair."

"But is he going to be fine?" Sirius looked down at his little brother, his heart constricting so painfully that he had to force himself to take another breath. He put his hand on Regulus forehead. It felt hot. Regulus was trembling ever so slightly as if he was feverish.

Madam Pomfrey sighed. "I can't tell yet. It depends - you said he was awake for a short time?"

Sirius nodded. "When we were still at Lestrange Manor, he responded when I took his hand."

"That's a good sign." The woman smiled, but it looked forced. "We will have wait until he wakes up in order to assess his state - his physical, mental and magical state. Now, the most important thing is that he can rest and recover, while we relieve any lingering pain from the curse."

The curtains opened, and Mrs. Potter stuck her head in. She started crying when she saw Regulus lying on the hospital bed, pale and unresponsive. She went over to Sirius and hugged him tightly. "I'm so proud of you," she whispered. "So incredibly proud."

Sirius swallowed hard. He'd been too late, he'd taken too long to find his brother. All those hours that Bellatrix had had Reg in her power… and Sirius couldn't even imagine the pain and fear his brother must've gone through. No, every second he'd waited (hesitated, talked, discussed, planned, at the Potters' house, at Grimmauld Place, at Barty's place) had been too long. "They hurt him," he responded, his throat incredibly tight. "Bellatrix hurt him so badly." And I wasn't there to protect him.

Mrs. Potter patted the side of his face. "He's safe," she said. "That's all that counts for now." She wiped the tears off her cheeks.

Meanwhile, Madame Pomfrey had spelled a set of calming and healing potions into Regulus' stomach. The boy's expression relaxed, his body loosened up. He looked like he was sleeping peacefully now, not like he was living through a feverish nightmare any longer.

"Can I take him home?" Sirius asked. The sight of his baby brother, pale, surrounded by white sheets and the castle's cold stone walls - he didn't want his brother to wake up here, at Hogwarts, so far from home. He'd promised himself that he wouldn't rest until he knew Regulus safe, until he had taken him back home. And who knew whether Regulus was even safe here, at Hogwarts. There were Death Eaters living in the dungeons. He cleared his throat. "I want to take him home as soon as possible." His voice sounded stronger now, more determined.

Madam Pomfrey was clearly on the fence about this. She began to object, but Sirius cut her off. He was Reg's guardian, he had a job to do - to make sure his brother was safe, that he felt safe. And this job was more important than anything else right now. "You said there's nothing much you can do. I want him to sleep in his own bed, after everything he's been through, he needs that comfort. I want him to know he's home. That's where he's supposed to be."

"We can take care of him," Mrs. Potter said quickly. "I know a thing or two about nursing. You give us instructions and we'll follow them right down to the last detail. The most important thing that he needs in order to recover seems to be a place where he feels at home. We can offer that."

Madam Pomfrey hesitated, her eyes flickering from Sirius to Mrs. Potter and back. "Fine. But you have to inform me after he wakes up," she said eventually. "I was never one for releasing patients early, but in this case, you might have a point."

Sirius carried Regulus up the stairs at the Potters' house. Even though Regulus was relatively skinny, he wasn't exactly a featherweight either, and especially not unconscious. Sirius didn't care. To hold Reg, to have him so close, was a privilege. And to tuck him into his bed, especially after the horrors of this night, was all Sirius wanted for now.

He entered their bedroom, and, climbing over the mess he'd left on the floor after searching the room earlier that evening, he carefully put his brother down on his bed. Mrs. Potter had followed them upstairs. Sirius pulled Regulus' shoes off his feet and Mrs. Potter unbuttoned his coat, removed it from around his shoulders. She transfigured Regulus' clothes into soft flannel pyjamas. Sirius lifted him up a bit, the boy's head resting against his chest as he arranged the pillow in the way he knew Regulus liked it. Then he lay him down, tucked the covers around his sleeping brother's form and sank down next to the bed, his knees weak suddenly.

Mrs. Potter patted his shoulder. "It's all going to be fine, love," she whispered. "See that you get some sleep too. You need it just as much." Sensing that Sirius needed some time alone with his brother right now, she left.

Sirius changed into his pyjamas, his movements automatic as if remotely controlled. Madame Pomfrey had healed the bump on Regulus' head, but Sirius could still make out some of the dried blood in Regulus' hair. He felt a sob beginning to tear at his chest, but didn't allow it to rise any further up than that. Not now. He couldn't rest like this, not with that blood still in Regulus' hair. He reached for his wand, and then remembered that he'd left it at Lestrange Manor. It didn't matter anyway, it was broken.

Sirius went to the bathroom and returned with a wet face cloth. Again, he sat down next to Regulus. Thanks to all the calming draughts he'd been given, Regulus slept deeply, his chest rose in a steady rhythm, his breathing was calm and even. His eyelids, like white rose petals, not twitching in pain any longer. Still, Sirius was careful not to wake him while he cleaned blood and dirt off the boy's forehead and hair as gently as he possibly could. Sirius felt hot tears rising. He tried to blink them away, but instead, they rolled down his cheeks. He would never forgive himself if Reg didn't make a full recovery. All this pain his little brother had endured - Sirius had never wanted this for him, he'd tried so hard to keep some of that child-like innocence alive. (Don't you worry about a thing, Reggie. Just be a child for a little longer.) And despite all his efforts, Reg had been forced to learn the hard way.

There was no way to turn back time. Reg had got hurt, and Sirius couldn't undo it, he knew that. But he couldn't help wondering, all those what-ifs slicing through his mind like sharp blades.

Maybe he should have been stricter with him. Even if he had spanked him every single time Reg had only so much as argued over wearing the necklace or complained about how Sirius was overprotective when it came to the Death Eaters in the dungeons, it still would have been easier (on both of them) than having to go through this nightmare.

Or maybe he should have listened more. Maybe he should have talked more too, make Reg understand. He shouldn't have allowed Reg to retreat into his shell, to shut him and everyone else out. The fight they had had - he shouldn't have let it go on for three full days.

Sirius put the face cloth aside, leaned forward and placed a kiss on his brother's forehead. The smell of Regulus' hair, he'd missed it so much. He remained like this, silently crying into his brother's hair, soaking it with bitter tears.

Maybe he should have been Reg's big brother more. Reg hadn't trusted him as his guardian. Whatever had occurred in the last months, whatever Reg had hidden from him (and he must have hidden a lot, Sirius could sense it, the distrust between them, the lies, like a heavy cloud hanging deep, blurring the last months to dozens of questions. What happened to us, Reg, how did it get this far?) - it was because he hadn't trusted Sirius enough to ask for help. He was a shitty excuse for a guardian, Sirius knew that.

It was his fault, all of this.

An adult, strong, reliable, experienced. Someone Reg could look up to. Someone Reg could trust to guide him.

Sirius was none of that.

He was a hypocrite. A pretender. A liar. Eighteen bloody years old. He was experimenting rather than acting on experience. He had lied to himself, had lied to them both. Like he knew any better than Reg - he knew nothing about life. He'd barely had a taste of it.

And Reg saw all that, had tried to follow him but couldn't. Who was Sirius to blame him? They were brothers. Reg knew him, knew him too well, saw all the insecurity behind Sirius' practiced smile.

He had nothing to offer his brother. Nothing other than his unconditional love for him, his will to give his life for him, and to do anything he possibly could to keep him safe.

Whether that was still enough, however, was a different question.

tbc…