Lydia has gone from not daring to touch anything, to throwing everything on the floor, mixing everything up until it's nothing more than chaos, igniting a touch of disbelief in Sirius. He tries to calm her down, with his words, with his touches, and in the end he tries to drag her away by force but she becomes more restless more she looks over Regulus' belongings.

"He's my oldest friend," Lydia tells him, when he tries to convince her to take a break.

"And you were his oldest friend," he says, an attempt at directing her attention but she shakes him off.

"He'd make me laugh when you ignored me."

"I was embarrassed," he defends himself but her attention is already back on some ornate knife.

"He had dreams," she says, almost to herself. "He wanted to find Merlin's wand."

That makes him pause, causing some distant memories to stir. "Is that why you chose this job for yourself?"

She looks at him like she's disappointed by him.

He doesn't recognize most of what he sees, but Lydia tells him little stories about gifts he's never asked about, or he's never even seen. She shows him the little glass ball he knows from Rosiers' summer house, given to Regulus by Elaine when he turned seventeen.

He did not know Elaine kept seeing them even after he ran away. Even after Regulus joined the Death Eaters. He doesn't know if that makes him arrogant, to think their engagement was the only thing that kept them together.

"It collects negative emotions," she murmurs as she holds it up to see inside, her face screwed up in concentration. "Not exactly legal, since it could be used to release those emotions as well. They had a case like this in Durmstrang a few years ago. They called me in to investigate."

It's cloudy, turbulent and it reminds him of Azkaban. He wonders how Regulus managed to keep that inside him. How he managed to feel all of his in just a year.

"You never told me you two kept seeing each other."

He tries to keep the accusation out of his voice but it creeps in anyway. She freezes, her body going unnaturally still. Her fingers -still bare, he ought to fix that- tense on the ball and for a second he worries she'll throw it at his head.

"You never wanted to hear about him," Lydia reminds him. She shakes her head, rolling her shoulders, causing her joints to pop. "And I didn't. See him."

"How so?" he asks in confusion. "I thought you saw him when you went to visit Crouch."

Lydia clicks her tongue. "He was barely there. Barty told me he stayed at Grimmauld Place most of the time. I don't know how much of it was a lie," she trails off, with a distant expression on his face. She bites down on her lips and looks up at him from the floor where she's sitting cross legged.

"We met once a week before he died."

It takes him a few seconds before he finds his voice. "What happened?"

Lydia turns her gaze towards the last boxes on the floor, and for a second she suddenly seems lifeless, like she's devoid of any emotion, any relation, any pain.

She shakes it off quickly but Sirius knows he's witnessed something dangerous.

"He found me when I waited for you during one of your interviews."

He remembers that, working at some random Muggle or magical stores to stave off the boredom. With Lydia at university and James being busy with Lily, he had too much time to spend with himself.

"I've always thought he committed suicide after that."

Her words, free of any judgement but also without any feeling feels like a punch in his stomach. "Where did you get the idea?"

"It was a few days before he was declared missing. We haven't talked in a year at that point, so I assumed he was thinking about getting out. Then the news came and I thought they got the whiff of it, so they killed him off. But after a few months I came across with my brother and he told me they never got him."

"So you thought he decided to off himself rather than being caught and got tortured."

"Basically, yeah."

Sirius squints at her face, and that expression is so familiar that he has to say it. "It's not your fault."

"It's not about it being my fault," she says, but he doesn't miss the snappy undertone. "It's about him having to kill himself because he didn't believe anyone would help him."

Sirius tilts his head and waits until she opens her eyes. "Do you ever think Regulus might not have died if I treated him right?"

She tosses her head back, and rolls her eyes. "I literally killed my brother," she huffs, but her expression loses it's edge, making her seem like a child again. "I'm not the one to criticize about sibling relationships."

He should've just let her jab go. "Does your family know about that?" he blurts out.

She closes the lid of the last box, her eyes blinking too fast to be natural. "They do. But we've never talked about it."

Sirius regards her carefully, at lost for words and in the end gets up and sits cross legged next to her, their knees pressed against each other.

He feels it down to his very bones.

She turns his head sideways to Sirius. "Do you want to know what we talked?"

He doesn't. He says, "Please."

It would've fooled anyone else, but Lydia can tell Sirius and Regulus apart from hundred meters away.

"That's what happens when you inbreed since the beginning of time," she says, her gaze fixed on Rabastan Lestrange trying to chat up Penelope Parkinson, who somehow became gorgeous as she grew up.

Regulus startles, probably thinking he was invisibible, waves at his face after a few seconds of pregnant pause. "This is also what happens when you inbreed. Not too bad is it?"

She lifts her gaze to Regulus and snorts when her eyes fall on his over the top Muggle costume. "Halloween is over, Reggie."

"What?" Regulus asks with his brows furrowed.

"Nevermind," she says. "Are you going to stand over me like like an ogre?"

"Didn't want to assume," he mumbles, but sits down even if he doesn't meet her eyes.

"Sirius just left," she says, reaching out to her pocket to take out her cigarettes. "But you already know that, since you've been trailing us for an hour."

He ignores her barb and swats at the cigarette she puts in her mouth. "Quit this."

"Piss off," she says, lighting it up, enjoying the grimace on Regulus' face thoroughly.

The silence that follows is unbearably uncomfortable.

"Flint knocked up his girlfriend."

Lydia almost drops her cigarette. "Fucking hell, is the girlfriend pureblood?"

"No but they're covering it up," Regulus says, his distaste showing up on his face for a second before he clears it up. "I've always thought you'd be the first one to get knocked up. Mother is still hoping for that."

She hits him on the shoulder, and blows the smoke on his face.

"Oh come on, can you tell me Sirius is careful?"

"I am."

He rubs his shoulder and waves his hand in front of his face when she blows it on his face again. "If you two count on your sense of responsibility, then you'll end up with a child in a few years."

"Do give me your advice, then. I won't even tell Sirius advice came from his little brother."

"Never shag when you're drunk. That's the key."

Lydia has to bite her lips to stifle her giggles. "How many times exactly you got drunk in your life ?"

"Ask me how many times I had sex when I was drunk instead," he replies, unbothered.

"Or maybe I'll ask how many times you had sex," she shots back.

"I know I'm the handsome brother but you need to tone it down, Lyd."

She takes a pointed sip from her coffee. "You wish, Reggie. I got the man."

"Nah," he says, leaning back with a pleased expression on his face. "He's got the girl, Lyd, remember that."

Lydia can't answer because she suddenly has a sore throat and runny nose, like she's had an ice cream in December.

It's so easy to talk to Regulus, for Lydia, since the mines they have to avoid are obvious and they've been walking away from those topics for a long time.

Still, when Regulus gets up to leave when they see Sirius leaving the building, she says it.

"You know I'd help you if you needed it, right? Not with him obviously but... I've got money. I've got recourses. It's all yours, Reg."

He smiles, and it actually reaches his eyes. "You'd be the first person I'd ask."

Half an hour later, they find a locket.

"It looks like the dark mark," Lydia says, her face scrunching up in disgust before she drops it from her hand.

"Where did you see it?" Sirius asks, his gaze fixed on the offending subject, supporting Lydia so she doesn't fall on the floor as she shakes in his arms.

"When my father died," she whispers, but it's almost like she's not here with him, with her frantic eyes going over the room too quickly to follow, surely making her dizzy in the process.

"Let's take this to Tonks," he murmurs, grabbing the necklace from the floor, his heart suddenly responding to the touch, like it's resisting against a hand squeezing, shooting up a throbbing pain through his left shoulder and arm.

Tonks comes to Grimmauld Place running after she gets Lydia's message, which sends a flicker of disbelief in Sirius, since she responds to Lydia's request in less than ten minutes.

"I've seen this somewhere," she repeats, "but this is not the dark mark."

Lydia shrugs, and leans her weight further on Sirius. "I'm not sure." She laughs. "Why don't we ask Snape to show us?"

Sirius pokes her in her side when Remus glares at her with his jaw clenched.

"We are all sure we've seen this," Remus cuts in, "someone will recognise it, for sure."

"It looks so familiar," Lydia murmurs, "I feel like I've seen this at our estates. Maybe in some portrait?"

"Could be," Remus allows. "But we'll have to take this to Dumbledore anyway. It doesn't feel right."

"It can't be something the Dark Lord gave to Regulus," Lydia says, "In that case someone else would've gotten it back."

"We don't know it belongs to Voldemort," Remus reminds her.

"It belongs to him," Lydia presses, not giving an inch from her point. Sirius dearly wishes she's wrong.

It still feels ethereal to Sirius but they prepare for bed at the same time, in the same room, ending up in the same bed once more. Lydia doesn't interact much with him except shouldering him to get to shower first, but she's still in front of the mirror when he emerges, with his clothes on.

"You know you don't have to get dressed in the bathroom."

"You want a peek?"

"If I wanted a peek I'd tell you to take your clothes off, dear," she winks at him from the mirror, "but I'm too tired for that now."

"Tomorrow?" he asks, his hope apparent in his voice.

She smiles, but doesn't answer.

"Come here," he pats her pillow, but she doesn't hurry up and Sirius is half sure she does it to annoy him. But he doesn't get annoyed, deciding that watching her waste time around his bedroom might be his new favourite thing.

Then she ruins his peace when she reaches her back and unclasps her bra, throwing it on the bed with a mischievous grin.

"I thought you were too tired."

"I am," she laughs, "doesn't mean I'm going to sleep with a bra because you can't control yourself."

He grabs it, and puts it on over his top, pretending to cup his own tits. Lydia erupts into little giggles, her face colouring slightly as sits on the bed and straddles him.

She wraps her arms around his neck and Sirius regrets having her bra between them, basically a barrier between their chests.

"Take it off," she says, "it's expensive."

"Penny pincher," he mouths as he does as she says.

He feels himself grow harder as she settles closer, not leaving an inch of space between them from head to toe.

"I thought you were too tired," he repeats when she starts tracing his jaw with her lips, feeling her mouth curving into a smile. He turns his face and captures her mouth before she can form a reply, fisting one of his hands in her hair, and grabbing her arse with the other.

"I'm never too tired for you," she breaths out when he takes a moment to look at her face, her skin pink and her mouth open and shiny.

"I'll remind you of your words in future."

"Please do," she toys with the buttons of his top, "now would you please get undressed?"

"I feel so old."

Sirius is almost startled by his own voice, surprised to hear his thoughts out loud. He'd rather have not started complaining at that moment, if he were given a chance.

Lydia scrutinises his face, her fingers drawing circles on his chest, light as a feather, and seems to come to a conclusion. "No, you're good."

Her answer, an chance for Sirius to close the topic, makes him snort.

He chooses to take the harder path. "I don't mean that."

Lydia doesn't respond but she watches him with unblinking eyes.

"Did you ever feel this way?" he asks her.

She remains silent for a few minutes, and Sirius gives her time she needs to find her words.

"I did," she says finally, "when the war was over, it started for me. I thought I lost best years of my life, that I was so old. I dreamed of going back a few years and remaining there. I would've chosen to go back and die, rather than live on at that point. I didn't care about the war. I didn't care about living. I just wanted what I had back."

She pauses. "I wanted you back. Barty. Evan. I wanted to be sixteen again and see everyone I loved in the same day."

"Death," he says, to himself, and she hums into his neck.

"I wish I could be all those other things for you," he confesses, and somehow he feels lighter saying a thing that makes him vulnerable to one person who's most capable of hurting his feelings.

Lydia extends her arm and squeezes until he can't breathe properly. "I don't need or want you to be anyone else."

"That's good," he flicks her nose, "because you're a handful."

She relaxes her arm and props herself up on her elbow, giving him an unobstructed view of her tits. "What do you want? From me?"

"That's a loaded question."

"Indulge me," she says.

He knows what he wants but he spends a few minutes pretend to be thinking.

"I want you by my side all the time," he starts. "I want you to get mad at me for not doing the laundry. I want to listen to you gossip like an old hag. I want to get jealous when men looks at you."

She beams, hiding her face into his shoulder and pressing a kiss on his skin. "I can do those things."

"I want to make you forget everything you've gone through."

She seizes her movements and her body tightens next to him. He hears her swallow and he forces himself to go on, pushing her hair back from her shoulders.

"I want to be your best friend."

She deflates like she's used up all her energy and sighs. "I can't give you that."

"What about a kid?" he asks. There is no doubt she hears his heartbeat.

"That's a tricky situation," she murmurs and Sirius frowns.

"How so?"

"It's a family curse," she says after a pause. "Women die when they give birth to third child."

His mind blanks, then he spins to her. "You don't have two kids, do you?"

She blinks, brows knitted together in confusion before she bangs her head on his chest. "They die after third pregnancy ends in a result, to be exact. And your health deteriorates with each one."

He doesn't like that the odds. "You're on birth control, right?" he asks, horrified, trying to sit up straight.

"Calm down," she pushes him back. "I had my womb taken out years ago just for this reason."

He waits until the blood leaves his ears and his breathing gets stable before he speaks. "Merlin, that is one of the ugliest curses I've ever heard. Is that why…"

He shuts his mouth with a click but it's already out.

"Yeah, my mother died after Felix was born," she says, but she doesn't seem upset. "She was just as mad as about the family line as father was. She knew what was going to happen."

He sighs, feeling like he's aged a decade again. "Is that why they waited so long for Felix?"

"Most certainly. I don't know if they would've gotten a third kid if I was a boy," she says, letting out a laugh from his nose. "Felix was the spare, essentially."

The word causes his stomach to drop, and reminds him of few other things.

"How come I've never heard of this? Mother never would've allowed me to marry you if she knew."

She shrugs, her mouth curving into a smirk. "Maybe she would've. Two is not a bad number."

He shakes his head vehemently. "That's too risky. You should've told me about it," he glares at her. "We would've been more careful."

"I was careful," she objects but her gaze shifts sideways.

"Even Regulus knew you weren't careful."

"Oh, shut up," she slaps his arm, "we can always get an adoption."

"Right," he says, his mind wheeling.

A silence falls over the room and her voice breaks it after a while, alarmed. "Not anytime soon, though."

He suppresses his laugh and hums noncommittally.

"I mean it, Sirius," she hisses, "I will not bring a baby into this horrid house."

He doesn't answer and she shakes him, breaking a bone in the process or two. "Say it out loud, Sirius Black. No babies until we leave this house for forever."

He knows she won't stop nagging him until she gets those words out of his mouth, so he gives her what she wants, getting what he had wanted for more than two decades.