Disclaimer : These two beautiful men don't belong to me, unfortunately, and neither does the world they live in. I was just exploring ;)
Warning : rated T for mentions of child abuse
[Written for QLFC Season 8 Round 1]
Team : Tutshill Tornados
Position : Beater 1
Beater 1 prompt : The Rebel
Additional prompts :
(Emotion) hopeful
(Dialogue) "You don't understand." / "No. But I want to."
In the Silence Between
Stretching his legs as far as they would reach, he leapt over a fallen log, landing with a soft thud. He could already feel the beginnings of the familiar acidic burn beginning to claw their way up his quadriceps. The collar of his shirt began to stick to the back of his neck with sweat, and his lungs hurt with the exertion he was putting them through. His breathing grew laboured, but he pressed on, knowing that even a misstep would lead to his demise. Where his was light, the steady footfalls of his three pursuers fell heavily, and he was able to clearly pinpoint the distance between them and himself. He could hear them closing in, and he darted into a small side path to the left that was partially hidden by a large oak tree. They rounded the corner, and one of them gave a shout for the others to catch him just as he hastily spun on his heel and Disapparated away with a pop.
His landing was not graceful; having landed on the edge of a step, he stumbled, and his arms flailed slightly before his fingertips caught onto what felt like a handle, and he quickly grasped onto it and righted himself. Gasping for air after being chased for so long, he quickly glanced around to get a sense of his bearings. He had not had a destination in mind when he Disapparated, but only the sheer determination to get himself out of the situation had landed him in some unfamiliar location. His robes whipped wildly around him, and his hair was severely dishevelled. Squinting through the torrential rain now pelting and soaking him to the bone, he saw that the buildings surrounding him looked like residential ones, and yet he had never seen them before in his life. In a moment of sheer desperation, where did his subconscious bring him?
The handle was suddenly jerked sharply away from him, and he along with it as he was still maintaining a tight grip on it. He fell through the doorway and into the broad chest of someone, whose large hands immediately settled onto his shoulders and steadied him.
'Reggie...?'
A voice he had not heard in too many years. A baritone smooth as bourbon that resonated from deep within the chest. A familiar one. His head jerked up to look at the person before him, but the top of his head harshly connected with the chin of the other.
'Ow! Bloody hell, Reg, that hurts like a bludger!'
'Sirius! What are you doing here?' Regulus cried, rubbed frantically at the crown of his head while looking bewildered at Sirius Black who was standing before him, doing the same with his chin.
'I should be asking you that! You came out of nowhere and breached my wards,' Sirius retorted, frowning. Sirius' hand shifted from Regulus' shoulder to his upper arm, pulled him fully into the house. The older man peered out into the darkness of the night before briskly shutting the door.
Sirius immediately turned and headed past Regulus, further into the house to an open-concept kitchen. He seemed to putter about casually; putting on the kettle and readying two cups and a plate of biscuits on the tabletop of an island counter. The stiffness in his posture was there for all who had the sense to look, however, and the furtive glances he constantly threw Regulus' way were no help either in disguising his apprehension.
'As Gryffindor as ever,' Regulus snorted in his mind.
Regulus sighed imperceptibly. It was not as if he could not understand why Sirius was so on edge — they had not spoken since he was in his sixth year, and they were both well into adulthood now. The estrangement and awkwardness was to be expected. The way he was not being yelled at and thrown out onto the street immediately, was not. He supposed the blood covering him from head to toe did not help make his case either.
Sirius sat down in one of the chairs and stared quietly at Regulus for a while — still in the same position right next to the door — before he released a long and deep sigh. Jerking his head toward the other open seat, Regulus understood him and went over, gingerly lowering himself down into the seat and quietly hissing at the pain of all the bruises and wounds he had sustained while being pursued earlier. Sirius slid a cup of tea over to him, and Regulus sipped a little at it as he began casting healing spells on his wounds.
As he was doing so, he began to scrutinise his older brother discreetly. Sirius had certainly changed in the past few years since Regulus had last seen him at his Hogwarts' graduation. With his ever impeccably perfect hair tied at the nape of his neck with a black leather thong, he was dressed casually in a white shirt halfway unbuttoned — and Regulus thought he saw the black of an inked tattoo on his sternum — half tucked into leather pants, heavy metal rings adorning his knuckles, and soft brown leather bracelets encircling his wrists. But what really caught Regulus' attention was the almost invisible shimmer around Sirius' neck.
'Reg, what are you doing here! You should get back to bed before Mother catches you in here again,' Sirius' voice hissed through the darkness.
Regulus shivered, both from the memory of the last time their mother had found Regulus, and from the cold, for he was dressed in nothing but his sleepwear and an old robe he had grabbed on his way down. Down here, in the cellar, where Mother always threw Sirius and locked him in overnight with no water and food when she could "no longer stand his obnoxiousness" as she had often said. Of course, Regulus had always done his best to sneak some small loaf of bread dipped into soup to Sirius, but there were times that Walburga made them both regret it. Sirius was but seven, and he six, and some days, it seemed like the letter to Hogwarts could not come soon enough.
The cellar door creaked open then, and Regulus quickly darted behind one of the pillars, making sure to gather his robes close to him, and crouching low so no shadow would be cast from the light streaming through the cellar door. The next two hours were agonising for him, as he listened to Mother cackling and casting Crucio repeatedly on his brother, and the never-ending ear-splitting screams of pain.
—
Sirius was eleven then, and he, ten. They were no different to before, and yet, everything had changed. Over the Christmas holidays, Sirius had been forcefully confined to his room, with Kreacher sending him a meal only once a day for sustenance. The moment they had stepped into Grimmauld Place after picking him up from Platform 9¾, Walburga had turned on Sirius and, while screeching that he was Gryffindor filth and a disgrace to the Most Ancient and Noble House of Black, had banished him to his room and cast a heavy locking spell on the door. Regulus kept to his room as much as he could most of the days.
During dinner on the day of Christmas, Regulus did nothing but behave most properly at the table, while Walburga was crooning his praises in his ear. He knew better now.
Late into the night, he slipped out of bed, and on bare feet, approached Sirius' door. He stood in front of it for a while, unsure of what to do, when he heard Sirius directly on the other side of the door.
'Well, Reggie, you best do what that hag says and get into Slytherin. Stay as the perfect Black son. You always were more sneaky than brash anyway,' Sirius laughed weakly.
'I'd rather be by your side, brother,' was his reply in a small voice.
'You don't understand. Just do as I say. It'll be for the best.'
—
Now he was fifteen, and Sirius sixteen, and it was likely the one Christmas he could never forget for the rest of his life. Even now as he laid in bed, staring at the bed canopy above him, the group of people cloaked in black that surrounded Sirius was vivid in his mind. Surrounding Sirius, who was on the floor, clad in nothing but his dress pants and a velvet black cloak thrown over his shoulders that was now in tatters and stained darker in places with something that Regulus did not want to think about. He had been made to watch from a corner of the drawing room as Sirius was offered up to the Dark Lord — someone Walburga and cousin Bella had been fervently worshipping as of late — and had watched as Sirius had stuck his chin up with a stubborn tilt, and had haughtily informed the Dark Lord that he would rather die than join his cause. Regulus had watched, quietly horrified, as the group had stirred like angry wasps at Sirius' insolence, and with a single command from their leader, swarmed around Sirius and stung him with torturous curses worse than the stings of wasps ever could. Regulus never visited Sirius during the nights any longer.
The next year, when Sirius had not come home, he had been forced to endure what he thought was the worst pain he had ever felt in his life. His left forearm seared with pain for what seemed like an eternity, and his shame burned deep within. But he remained stoic in his façade, and in the face of the ugliest monster he had ever seen, he kept his poise as he rose shakily from the floor, sweat beading across his forehead, gasping heavily, and sunk into a bow, proclaiming, 'My Lord'.
He did not know how Sirius had known, but when they had next met, he was shoved against the alley wall and cornered in, and his sleeve was harshly yanked up to reveal the writhing black monstrosity beneath.
A pause.
Then, 'Why, Reggie?' Sirius had demanded of him, voice cracking on the first syllable.
'You wouldn't understand,' he whispered bitterly.
Sirius had stared at him for a long while, then, pushing roughly away from the wall, had stalked away, the anger evident in his gait.
'It was for the best,' Regulus muttered under his breath, and turned away to slink into the shadows.
A warm and calloused hand covered his, and Regulus' head jerked up, two pairs of stormy grey eyes connecting. He glanced down and snatched his hand away as if burned; he had not realised that he had been holding onto the silver ring, threaded through with a black silk cord, that was loosely tied around Sirius' neck — the silver ring shimmering in his hold. Even without looking at it, he could feel the cool metal of an identical necklace resting in the space between his clavicles. It had been a symbol of their close brotherly bond, once. He had not expected that Sirius would have held onto it after all these years, and after all that had happened between them.
Regulus cleared his throat in the awkward silence between them. 'The Dark Lord, he has been gathering far too many Dark creatures for a while now. Werewolves, vampires...Giants.'
'Why are you telling me this?' Sirius' voice was laced with wariness.
Uncharacteristically, a look of uncertainty flashed across Regulus' face, and his reply was oddly filled with apprehension. 'I overheard some things today. Terrible things. While the Dark Lord was speaking to his inner circle...and because they found me out, I was to be punished, and they gave chase. Which led me here.' He blinked in confusion. 'Where is this, anyway? I'm not sure how I came to be here.'
'My own place,' Sirius replied shortly, his unwillingness to further expose himself clear.
A long pause.
Then, 'Would you ever tell me why you joined them? I know you, Reggie. You were always the little brother tagging along with me, who looked up to me, who would keep out of it as that hag we used to call our mother would flay me open with the Cruciatus, but who would come quietly back in the night to help me in whatever way your little hands could. But I could understand that. You were my little brother, mine to protect and to keep safe from harm. How did it come to this?' His eyes glittered with tears unshed.
'You don't understand.'
'No. But I want to.'
The silence was a culmination of all that was left unsaid and unheard over the years, pressing in on all sides, choking, suffocating, both gasping in their lack of understanding and reconciliation.
'I best be on my way. Wouldn't want anyone to catch me here.'
Sirius frowned as his younger brother quickly stood and made his way to the door. Regulus looked back then, and his mouth opened and shut a few times as if he wanted to say something more, wanted to sit in front of the fireplace with his brother, huddled under a quilt as they had done in their rare childhood days of joy. Yet, Regulus merely gave a look of hope and longing to Sirius which he found indecipherable.
'Perhaps you will understand someday. But even if you don't, I wouldn't regret a single thing I did. Goodbye...Siri.'
And this time with all deliberation and determination to reach his destination, Regulus Apparated to the concealed entrance of a little cave by the sea with a pop that was drowned out by the waves crashing against the rocks, clutching on to his little silver ring, threaded through with a black silk cord, tied loosely around his neck. His source of strength through the years. And their cups remained on the table still, half-empty with tea turned cold.
Words : 2,319
A/N : Hello again! This is my first time writing for the Quidditch League and it's all very exciting :D The prompt I was given was The Rebel, which immediately brought Sirius as a bad boy-rebel type to mind. But then again, there are so very many different types of rebels, aren't there? And thence came Regulus in all his handsomeness come to break my heart again
Reviews would be very much appreciated! :)