Author's Note: So, here's the thing. I just submitted my PhD thesis – hence why these updates have been quite erratic. Give me a little time to recover and hopefully you'll get a few more chapters coming soon. Here's the last one I had up my sleeve for now. Small warning for nastier language than you've probably seen in this story before.

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

The Verdict of His Family

Regs only saw Sirius on the rare occasion that he passed him on the way to the bathroom for the first two weeks of the summer holiday. Sirius caught his gaze a few times, but he didn't say anything. Regs thought his brother looked rather bored, but it was not so bad of a punishment after all. Regs really hoped that Sirius was doing his homework in there, because if he came out after two weeks with nothing to show for it, Regs was pretty sure Mother would ground him for the rest of the summer.

Regs wanted to get his own homework out of the way, of course, so he read through his assignments in the library and wrote to Elias, with only a small sense of guilt, about how his essays were progressing. Mother hadn't forbidden him from talking to Elias, after all; she had just encouraged him to branch out a bit more, and increase his social circle. Regs wondered if Nott would write to him. He was going to wait for Nott to make the next move; Regs had made enough of one. It was time to see if he would get any return on his investment. Ciara had said she was investing in Regs by teaching and training him, but Regs was simply trying to draw out whatever useful qualities Nott might have by being slightly more friendly than was required, given that Nott hardly ever spoke to anyone anyway.

Regs was happy to let other books in his Father's library distract him from his various assignments and spent a few hours each afternoon reading things that definitely weren't in the general reading section of the Hogwarts library. He had yet to get access to the Restricted Section – but maybe he could get one of the teachers to give him permission. Slughorn might be his best bet, if he could be manipulated into it. Maybe Elmsworth?

When Sirius was finally released from his bedroom, he spent many long hours in Father's study, where he was lectured about his conduct, about his duty to their Noble house, and how he ought to follow Regs' example. Just because he was in Gryffindor didn't make him exempt from their expectations. Regs knew all this because he sometimes heard the echoes of Father's voice from the kitchen when he went to speak to Kreacher. Sometimes, when he could get away with it, he would sit on a stool and just watch the bustle of the kitchen. He used the time to think, and to feel like he was back at Hogwarts with people around him all the time. Without Sirius' company, it could get a little lonely at home. He'd gotten quite used to be able to ask Elias about anything that was on his mind.

The other thing that Regs did was trawl through old copies of the Daily Prophet and the new ones that were delivered every day and clip out any of the articles that seemed to be related to the pureblood movement. There were a few people commenting on the politics, others providing a social commentary on the matter. But Regs wanted to connect the dots. There were articles about deaths and disappearances that he kept as well, though not once were they linked to Lord Voldemort's pureblood movement. He suspected that there were more links here than were written in print, but he was missing the information to draw it together. The Prophet did not seem to view Lord Voldemort in a positive light at all; the paper seemed somewhat biased towards Dumbledore's sort of worldview – the wrong one. Nevertheless, it was all information. He kept the clippings on his desk and made notes for himself. Without Sirius around, there wasn't much else to do.

In August, Sirius was released from his confinement in Father's study and he looked worn and haggard, shadows under his eyes as though some illness was leaching his health away. Regs pursed his lips and offered Sirius an Invigoration Draught that he had left over from one of his lessons with Professor Morten. It had been one of the hardest potions he'd made so far, being OWL level, but under good supervision, he'd managed it quite nicely. Sirius, however, refused, not without a grateful smile, and went back to his room. At dinner, he was quiet and withdrawn, quite unlike his usual self. Regs had the traitorous thought that if this treatment was what it took to create the heir that Mother and Father wanted, the price might be too high. Sirius was loud and boastful but kind and mischievous too. He wasn't this shadow, eating slowly, and staring at his plate as though his spirit had been beaten out of him. Regs would never have said the thought out loud, and as soon as he'd thought it, he shook it away, scolding himself for it. Sirius had made his choices and if they led him to this end, then that was his fault and his alone.

Regs spoke to Kreacher now and then about Lord Voldemort. He told the house elf, in confidence of course, about the new wizard who was finally seeing things the way they really were and was doing something about it! Regs wanted to talk to Mother and Father about this, but he needed to know more first. And he couldn't talk to Sirius about it, that was for sure. So he poured out his thoughts and his hopes and dreams to Kreacher, who sat and listened to him with large dark eyes, so trusting, drinking in every word that Regs said to him. Regs only took him away from his duties when he knew he could be spared, for the last thing Regs wanted was Kreacher to be punished on his behalf.

With Sirius' return, Regs could spend time with him again, and slowly his brother became more like himself. Sirius and Regs were playing a slow, lazy game of chess one afternoon on a particularly hot day when everything changed.

It was not their first chess game of the summer, but the first in which Sirius had truly been himself. He'd lost the dead, haunted look in his eyes that had rather reminded Regs of the Bloody Baron, and was whistling softly as they traded pieces back and forth. It wasn't a particularly close game; Regs was playing loosely and Sirius was paying attention for once, and Regs didn't mind losing, not when the conversation between them was so easy and Sirius was so disappointed that Regs had finished all of his homework on purpose.

"I only did mine because I had to," Sirius said sadly, shaking his head. "Are you sure you're not a Ravenclaw?"
Regs' lips twitched. "I'm sure. Elias said the Sorting Hat considered it for him, and I've spent a year doing homework with him, so I guess I've picked up his habits."

Sirius snorted. "I guess." He hesitated over a pawn and moved a knight instead. "James somehow always manages to get his done when I'm not looking. I mean, he's never doing it when we first get it, like Remus, and he doesn't do it at the last minute, like Peter – and me," he added after a moment, "but he always seems to have done it when we go to hand it in."

"Then I suppose he must be doing it in the middle," Regs suggested. He laughed at the look Sirius gave him. "You ought to try doing it sooner, it leaves a lot of time left for exploring."

Sirius gave him a keen look at that. "Exploring? How far have you gone? Found any secret passages?"

Regs shrugged artfully. "Maybe."

"Oh, come on," Sirius whined. "You have to tell me!"

"Alright, I will," Regs said, shuffling a bishop, "if you tell me all the secret passages you've found."

Sirius opened his mouth and then paused, conflicted. "I – can't."

Regs smirked. "I know. That's why I won't tell."

Sirius sighed dramatically. "I suppose that's fair."

Kreacher cracked into the room and swept into a deep bow. Sirius yelped in fright and then scowled, rounding on the house elf.

"You can't just come in here like that, you little fiend! What in Merlin's name do you think you're doing?"

"Sirius," Regs said sharply. "That's enough. I let him do that. Now, be quiet." He'd noticed the tremble in the elf's ears. "Kreacher, what is it?"

Kreacher looked up at them, his eyes huge and glistening. "The young masters are required in the drawing room at once, if you please. Mistress Black is asking for youse both."

Regs and Sirius exchanged a look, and both rose, the chess board forgotten.

"Thank you, Kreacher," Regs said, and went out onto the stairs and quickly to the drawing room, Sirius right behind him. It seemed that Sirius had learned his lesson about keeping Mother waiting.

When they came to the drawing room, Mother was already ranting, pacing back and forth across the carpet with her wand smoking in her hand. As soon as they came inside, the door slammed shut behind them and then Regs noticed Father in the corner, his face twisted into a terrible sneer.

"Your cousin is an absolute disgrace to this family," Mother snapped. Regs blinked and his family flashed through his mind in a whirlwind. It couldn't be Narcissa – she was always so refined, a perfect little pureblood witch – had Bella gone too far off the rails? Regs needed to know if his family disapproved of her for some reason, for he planned to follow her to Lord Voldemort's side. "She has shamed us all! Running off with a mudblood as though her family were nothing. Elope!" she shrieked and snatched up a sheet of paper that had Aunt Druella's handwriting on it. "She's taken off with some Hufflepuff, the muggle-loving whore! It is a scandal! How will her sisters show their faces again? Selfish bitch!"

Regs froze. Surely not –

Mother whirled on the carpet, and stabbed her wand into the tapestry on Andromeda's face, snarling as the cloth burned under her furious ministrations. Regs watched, keeping his face controlled, showing no emotion. Not Andromeda – not Andromeda – had she no sense at all? She'd forsaken her entire family for some mudblood scum? She'd have no inheritance from their grandfather now, and she could say goodbye to her dowry. What in Merlin's name had she been thinking? She'd been so sweet – so confident and calm, and solid – he'd never see her again now. Mother would never let Andromeda near them again – and to be honest, Regs could see why. Who wanted to associate with someone who would give up their entire family – nobility, honour, and pride – for a mudblood? He'd never thought it of her. What treachery could hide inside someone, and it would never come to light until they had reached some invisible tipping point. Better to know sooner and never be in a position where they could betray you later.

He swallowed hard as the last of Andromeda's stitched face shrivelled up, and nodded as Mother turned. It was the right thing to do. She did not deserve their family. She did not deserve them. Mother looked at him, her eyes still burning, and nodded once. Then she turned to Sirius and her lips curled into a venomous sneer.

"Do you regret it, Sirius? Do you wish it undone? Do you see what happens when family turns its back on us?"

"No, ma'am," Sirius whispered, his voice hoarse. "Yes, ma'am."

Mother took a great breath and let it out slowly. "Enough. She is no longer a Black. She is not recognised by this house any longer, and both of you are forbidden from any association with her ever again. Am I understood?"

Regs nodded once, firmly. Sirius pressed his trembling lips together and nodded quickly, casting his eyes to the ground.

Later, when they went upstairs, they did not resume their chess game. Sirius stared out the window blankly. Some of the dead look had come back into his eyes. Regs didn't say anything. He knew that Sirius would probably feel differently about Andromeda than he did – Sirius was more sensitive about things that came naturally to Regs. And both of them had liked Andromeda a lot. It was sobering; Regs really wasn't sure if his trust could be so easily given when it was yanked out from under him from someone who had explicitly had it before.

Regs picked up the book he'd been reading – it was about the rise of the Dark Arts in medieval times – and opened it absentmindedly. Sirius was still staring out the window. Regs had a sudden thought, and shuffled all of his newspaper clippings underneath one of his textbooks so that Sirius wouldn't see them. He should have done that earlier. He didn't really feel like reading, but it wasn't because of the hollow feeling beneath his breastbone. It was because he wanted to cast spells, he wanted to duel someone. He'd never duelled before, but he felt a keen desire to fight and let some of his bottled frustration explode out of him as it must – and yet he couldn't. It was against the law to cast magic outside of school because it might break the Statute of Secrecy. If Regs had the chance, he would abolish that when it meant casting magic in the wizard's own home. This restriction chafed at him, it itched and burned and he hated it. He wanted to duel! There was anger at Andromeda, frustration at Sirius, and an abrasive boredom and all of them would be soothed by fighting someone.

Sirius moved finally. He jerked back a little and lifted the latch on Regs' window.

"What is it?" Regs asked.

"Mail," Sirius said, his voice soft and leaden.

Regs raised his eyebrows and went to stand beside his brother. Elias had written to him only yesterday, so it was unlikely to be from him, unless something particularly exciting had happened since.

The owl was tawny with bright yellow eyes, not one that Regs had seen before. It held out its leg and Regs took the letter quickly, seeing his name written on the front in a cramped handwriting. The owl shook itself and took off again. Sirius watched it go, his eyes far away, and a frown sunken deep into his face.

Regs went to his desk and opened the letter. He scanned the name at the bottom and his lips curved up a little. Well, well. Looked like Nott had decided to make a move.

To Regulus,

Having given some thought to your words and actions from our first year at Hogwarts, I have decided to write to you as you suggested. As I once said to you, I will not divulge details of my life outside of Hogwarts to anyone, and neither will I speak of them here. But I have reached a certain point where I feel I must have some additional correspondence to what I am accustomed to. I cannot bear the thought that I will have no one to speak to but those around me currently until September. I do not enjoy the company of many others, but you have approached me on no merits of my own and provided such an offer. It is most likely motivated by an agenda of your own. Whatever that agenda may be, I have come to the conclusion that accepting such an offer may be beneficial to both of us.

While I know that I do not make the most interesting or pleasant companion, you and Elias Cooper tolerated my presence at the end of the year, and I found myself realising that such company could be acceptable. I write this letter in the hopes that the offer is not rescinded. I would appreciate a letter in return, confirming this.

I suspect that you wished last term to discuss certain events that we were both privy to – I will say no more here, but I must acknowledge that I avoided such a conversation intentionally and accept that I should return to the topic when next we meet. If we are to share company, then it is a topic I cannot avoid.

My letter writing is likely to be as uncomfortable as my conversation. I am not in the practice of it. Nevertheless, I have written one, and if it finds you unwilling to reply I shall take it as a sign that my company is not wanted.

Regards,

Patrick Nott

Regs read the letter through twice, frowning at the heavy wording, the cluttering writing and the discomfort that Nott had clearly felt writing it. Not once had he said that he hoped Regs would write back, but almost every line was heavy with the dislike of having put himself out, of providing someone with something that could be used against him. Well, he had no fear there. Regs wasn't spiteful; if he had information to use against someone, he was not inclined to use it unless he had very good reason to.

"Who was it from?" Sirius asked, his voice sounding rather lifeless.

"One of my dormmates," Regs replied. "Patrick Nott."

Sirius wrinkled his nose a little, but his eyes were still faraway. "The scrawny kid? Always looks like he's surrounded by people who smell like stinksap?"

Regs pursed his lips. "I suppose."

Sirius looked away from the window at last. He sat heavily onto the armchair near the window and buried his face in his hands.

"How could she?" he mumbled through his fingers.

"Andromeda?" Regs asked cautiously.

Sirius dropped his hands. "It was stupid. We'll never see her again now." His face broke and creased into lines of misery. "She got out. She must have been unhappy."

"Out?" Regs said, and he could hear the incredulity in his own voice. "Out of the family? She left."

"But there must have been a reason," Sirius muttered.

"Yeah, she wanted to marry a mudblood tramp," Regs snorted. "She knew no one would let her."

Sirius' eyes were bright, silver in the afternoon light. "She's your cousin. I know you loved her. She was the best of them. There's a reason she left. It's because she knew this family was bad. All the good ones leave."

"Be very, very careful of what you say here," Regs said slowly, every word as sharp as broken glass. "This family is yours and mine. I will not forget what you say."

Sirius looked at him then, raw and hurting and Regs saw the way his chin was trembling. "I am not giving up on you, Regs. This year – earlier, over the Christmas break – I thought you were different in a way that I couldn't understand. I thought that once you got to Hogwarts you would find the same things that I found. And when you didn't, I thought it was your fault. But it's never just your fault. There are influences on you, from all sides. I don't care how long it takes, but I promise, Regs, I won't do that again. I am not giving up on you!"