"You're in the Muggle papers," Regulus announced, reentering the clearing and proffering the headline. "Well, that was in some ways how I knew you'd gotten out— first time I'd willingly gotten into a conversation with someone who knew even less English than I did French, but I would have thought that after two weeks the news would have cooled down in the Muggle papers."

Sirius took the paper and glanced at the headline. "Maybe somebody saw me or something," he muttered, flipping to page three to read the article. "Yeah, someone thinks they saw me. But it wasn't me," he added quickly as Regulus opened his mouth. "We were thirty miles away yesterday."

"Still," Regulus muttered, shaking his head.

"Besides," Sirius added, setting the paper back on the ground, "I thought you'd gone into that village to get food."

Regulus tossed him the loaf of bread he'd been carrying. "I did. But I also wanted to know how much they know about you— or at least how much they've told the Muggles."

Sirius shook his head and started to fight with the tie on the package. "So what's a gun?" he asked absently.

"Huh?"

"That thing they've told the prime minister I'm armed with." He muttered a curse at the plastic bag.

Startled to know something about Muggles that Sirius didn't— it was the first time in his life Regulus could remember that happening— Regulus explained. He also took the bread out of Sirius's hands and undid the tie for him. "You do realize that the closer we get to Hogwarts, the less likely you are to convince me to go into a village, right? I'm not going into Hogsmeade for a loaf of bread," he added as he handed it back.

Sirius shrugged.

Regulus flipped idly through the paper, glancing through the article about Sirius and the weather forecasts. "There is one thing I still don't understand," he said quietly. "I haven't wanted to ask you about it."

"Out with it, Reggie," Sirius snapped.

"What happened with Pettigrew twelve years ago?" Regulus demanded. "Even I thought you'd killed him— you were certainly angry enough to do so."

Sirius sighed and pulled an old copy of the Daily Prophet out of his robes. "Peter blew up the street and transformed. Even I'm not entirely sure what he did. Anyway, he cut off his finger just as it happened— if you look close he's missing a toe. . . ."

Regulus examined the picture. "Someone outsmarted you," he muttered under his breath. "There's a first." He poked the rat in the photograph, making it move a little on the page. It was missing a toe on a front paw, and anyway he didn't think Sirius would mistake Pettigrew, not after everything he'd been through.

He handed his brother back the paper. "So . . . you kill Peter Pettigrew. Then what?"

Sirius looked up in surprise. "To tell you the honest truth, Reggie, I haven't gotten that far yet."

Regulus sighed. "You know, Mum was wrong. 'Rash' does not say it all, in fact it does not even begin to describe what you do."

Sirius raised an eyebrow. "I presume you'll explain sooner or later," he commented after a minute's silence.

"Three weeks before your sixteenth birthday, you finally lost it with Dad, packed your trunk, and ran off to James Potter's. If you had any idea what you were doing after the summer, I don't know you. The school year before you told Severus Snape about that knot on the Whomping Willow. If you had any idea what you were going to do when he got himself killed doing what you told him, again I don't know you— fortunately James Potter had enough sense to make sure you never had to find out."

"Just a minute, there," Sirius started, waving a hand as if he could dismiss the evidence. "I didn't honestly think he'd be stupid enough to take me at my word—"

"Why not? It was the truth." Regulus leaned back against the trunk of a tree with a groan. "Now you have gone through all the trouble of breaking out of prison to wring the neck of the rat that landed you there . . . and you don't know what you'll do afterwards?"

"Reggie, really . . . no, you're right. Any suggestions?" Sirius asked, tossing him the loaf. "I assume you haven't eaten either?"

"I have probably had less to eat than you have this past week, on the theory that you need it more," Regulus pointed out, reaching into the bag. "Well, as for suggestions, you could always take Pettigrew alive."

Sirius didn't say anything. On one level, Regulus didn't blame him. On another, he thought his brother was behaving like an idiot. "It would prove you didn't kill him," he pointed out. "And there are ways— veritaserum, among others— to prove what really happened on that street . . . and the previous night."

Sirius shook his head and ran his fingers through his hair, wincing as he pushed his fingers through the mats. "Reggie. . . ."

"You of all people know there are worse fates than death," Regulus whispered.

A shudder ran through Sirius, and Regulus wasn't sure whether or not he regretted that statement. He reached over and took hold of his brother's arm. "Are you all right?"

"Fine," Sirius answered without conviction. He drew his knees into his chest but still didn't look up. "You're right, though. If anyone deserves Azkaban, it's Peter."

Regulus smiled grimly. "I thought you might see it that way. Shall we keep going?"

Sirius nodded and got to his feet.

"I still can't believe I'm letting you do this," Sirius muttered, eyeing the scissors in Regulus's hand apprehensively.

"Yeah, yeah, we've been through this before," Regulus answered, pulling a comb from one of his pockets. It was amazing what Regulus could pull from his coat pockets, as if he expected to live a halfway normal life with its contents alone. Though, he may have been doing just that for years. "There are two major things connecting you to the picture in ever newspaper in Britain. One of them's how bony you are, and no one can fix that without time. The other one's your hair. And that elbow-length mess can't be comfortable, anyway. I don't see why you're making such a fuss."

"I'm only nervous because you're the last man I want wielding scissors anywhere near my head."

"Really? I can think of worse." Regulus ran his hand through his brother's hair one more time, Sirius wincing every time he found a tangle. "Besides, it's not as if we can just take you into a barber's shop."

Sirius put his hands over his eyes. "Tell me when your done," he requested in a small voice.

Regulus chuckled and commenced. Sirius felt him tear a few good-sized chunks of hair off, probably with the comb, almost immediately. After a while, Regulus tried to push Sirius's arm out of the way, and he protested. "Close you're eyes if you must, but I'm going for that beard," Regulus told him. "Unless of course you want to look like Dumbledore. . . ."

Sirius closed his eyes and lowered his arms so Regulus could hack at that, too.

Half an hour later, Regulus was untangling what hair was left on Sirius's much lighter head. "It's still a bit long, but I didn't figure you wanted me to cut all of it off," Regulus announced.

Sirius opened his eyes and reached up to feel it. It was still nearly shoulder length, but at least it no longer hung all the way to his elbows. "I don't suppose you've got a mirror?" he asked, glancing back at Regulus, who was rubbing his moustache as he examined the pile of matted hair, which resembled a small, dead woodland creature.

"No, but there are plenty of puddles around here if you really don't trust me. I'm sure you'll be able to see your reflection in one," Regulus replied. He reached into an inside pocket. "Do you want the beard or a razor?"

"Whether or not I keep the beard, I'll want the razor."

Regulus shrugged, pulled it out, and handed it to him. "You really do look so much better this way."

When Sirius returned, he'd shaved. "I'll give you this, Reggie," he mumbled, handing his brother back the razor. "It's better'n I've looked in years."

Regulus raised an eyebrow as he slipped the razor into one of his pockets. "Why do I get the feeling that's not saying much?" he asked with a grin.

Sirius looked across the clearing at the house. "I'm not sure I like this," he mumbled, glancing back at Regulus.

"Don't be stupid. I've been stealing wizarding things from rubbish bins for years, if you absolutely must know," Regulus answered. "It was the only way to keep up with our world, after I managed to pick up some French and German. And I've been doing it as a fox for years, too, because then the worst thing that happens is the wizard comes outside and chucks something at me. I do, after all, dress like a Muggle, so the alternative's a memory charm."

"You could've always sent Anna to do it," Sirius pointed out. "Or did her majesty turn her nose up at the idea of going through trash bins?"

"My cat? Really, man, d'you honestly think Anna'd take orders, even from me?" Regulus asked, smiling slightly. "Besides, she was a bright cat, but I dunno if I could have gotten it across to her that I wanted the pages with the moving pictures."

Sirius ran his fingers nervously through his hair. "If you're sure this'll work, go ahead," he muttered. He still wasn't sure either of them should be wandering brazenly onto a wizard's lawn, Animagus or not.

"If there were dogs anywhere on this property, we'd know by now," Regulus reminded him, as if it was only the ordinary Sirius was worried about. "And I've been hit by far worse than a rolled up newspaper. You hit me with some of it."

"Shut up," Sirius muttered, unconvinced. "If you're going to get the paper, go get the paper."

Regulus rolled his eyes and transformed into the gray fox. Now that Sirius thought of it, grays were North American, and frankly if anyone paid any attention Regulus looked as if he'd escaped from the London Zoo. The fox bounded across the yard and leapt atop the trash can. He peered into it, and then lowered the front half of his body into it in order to dig through it for a few moments. Finally he reappeared, dragging a rolled up newspaper larger than his head. He dropped it on the ground and dug through the bin again. He emerged with a second paper, dropped to the ground with it, and rolled the two papers back into the woods.

"There," Regulus announced upon changing back, handing Sirius the paper that had been in his mouth a moment before. "Did that kill either of us?"

"No." Sirius opened the paper. "What are we looking for?"

"Well, if your name's in it, I'm sure you'd like to know what it says. Otherwise . . . Dumbledore, Hogwarts, anything that sounds important. . . . You ought to know what's important."

Sirius rolled his eyes and scanned the page. "This looks like a load of fluff, to be honest."

Regulus, who had begun flipping through the other paper, shrugged. "No news is good news," he pointed out. "Frankly, there's not much here, either. No, wait. . . ." He flipped the page, scanned the article, and slowly went dead white. "Damn," he whispered.

After a moment, Sirius impatiently snapped his fingers between his brother's face and the paper. "What is it, Reggie?" he demanded.

Regulus handed him the paper, though he seemed a little reluctant to do so. "They've been authorized to use the kiss on you, Sirius. . . ."

Sirius felt the color draining from his own face. He started to swear, but nothing came out of his mouth. He was too scared to even look at the article Regulus had just handed him.

"You're shaking," Regulus whispered after some time.

Sirius glared at him. "Wouldn't you be, too?" he demanded. "When they're telling the world they're gonna let those things eat my soul?"

Regulus patted his shoulder. It wasn't very reassuring, but Sirius didn't think that anything could be. "Then after we've got Pettigrew we head straight to Dumbledore. He'll at least hear you out, won't he?"

Sirius nodded and dropped the paper. "Well, we'd better get going just in case the wizard wonders why a fox wanted his papers," he announced, and transformed into the dog.

Regulus shook his head. "Are you sure you're okay?"

The dog looked incredulously at him. Regulus shrugged, turned into the fox, and followed Sirius deeper into the woods as the hulking black dog bounded off.

Author's Note: Hullo all again, and thanks for reading and/or reviewing. Just so you all know, I have the first six chapters of this fic beta-ed, and I'll be updating it once a week; I promise. Arianna Malfoy: Thanks for that note about their characters -- I may have to go back and edit it, at least for Sirius: he prrobably WOULD be a little warier around a former Death Eater, even if it is his brother, wouldn't he. . . . Anyway, until next week, Cheers! -- Loki