"These things are disgusting."

"They're antique!"

"Who paints Grindylows onto dinner plates?"

Regulus watched the creature duck beneath a filigree vine etched onto the rim of the porcelain plates. Sirius was right; the plates were truly horrific. Regulus had eaten off them exactly twice. Once for the announcement of Bellatrix's engagement, and more recently for the announcement of Narcissa's.

No celebration was called for the announcement of Andromeda's engagement, wedding nor pregnancy. Regulus preferred not to think about that.

"What are we even doing here? She's hardly going to hide it amongst the teacups," he hissed at Sirius who was trying to peer into the back of the dark kitchen cupboards.

"Bold of you to assume you know how the brain of our mother works, Reg," Sirius muttered, tip-toeing on the chair.

"If Kreacher sees you, he'll go running straight to her."

"And that, little brother, is why you are guarding the door." Sirius smirked down at Reg who rolled his eyes. He was used to being complicit in his brother's schemes. There was a small part of him (which he would never admit to) that enjoyed it. The adrenaline, the daring, the secrecy.

His brother relished in the adrenaline of disobeying their parents. Regulus was addicted to the cunning of not getting caught.

"No use, I can't see. Give me your wand."

Regulus took a step back. "You're not touching my wand."

"Why not? I'm your brother, not some complete stranger. "

"Because my wand won't work properly for you, and knowing you, brother, you'll end up breaking something."

Regulus didn't flinch under Sirius's glare. He was used to being under his brother's scrutiny. Sirius's wand had been confiscated the minute they set foot in Grimmauld Place at the beginning of every holiday. It wasn't even a question anymore; Sirius came home, his mother held out a hand for the wand, and Sirius handed it over with a stony silence before being ordered to their father's study.

Regulus didn't know the reason for the confiscated wand. A punishment for the detention notices? To prevent Sirius from acting out at home? Or just because of the Sorting? When he had first arrived home at Sirius' side, Regulus had been terrified that he would suffer the same punishment.

"Keep it in your pocket," Sirius had hissed at him as they walked across Platform 9 ¾, "Don't let her see it."

Regulus had listened to him, same as he always did. He didn't draw attention to his wand, politely greeted his Mother and allowed himself to be apparated onto the steps of Grimmauld Place. As soon as the door opened, Sirius moved in front of Regulus and entered the house first. Walburga stopped him before he could brush past her, holding her hand out expectantly.

"...No."

The argument that followed Sirius's defiance was short-lived and predictable. Sirius was carted away to their father's study, his wand firmly in his mothers grasp.

And Regulus stood forgotten in the doorway.

His wand still in his pocket.

His mother never asked for it.

And thus lead to now, Sirius balanced carefully on a chair beside a set of grotesque, antique plates, staring longingly at Regulus's wand while searching desperately for his own.

"Fine." Sirius huffed. "If you won't give me your wand, then you'll have to come up here and look instead."

"You've got to be kidding me!" Regulus groaned, but Sirius was already pushing him towards the chair.

"It'll take two minutes, go on!"

Regulus scowled but climbed onto the chair. The porcelain Grindylows eyed him suspiciously; they really were disgusting. The plates shimmered in the dim lamplight of the kitchen making the water appear to ripple, the painted reeds swaying in the currents.

Regulus lit his wand and leaned over the plates into the cupboard. "Nothing!" he called down.

"Look right at the back!"

Regulus leant over, straining into the back corner. In hindsight, he didn't know what came first. Whether the hiss of the painted Grindylow startled him, causing the chair to slip or whether the chair slipping was the hissing noise.

All he remembered was the smashing of antique porcelain plates raining around him as they tumbled to the floor together.

Sirius was on him in an instant, pulling him from the rubble.

"Are you ok?" he asked.

Regulus nodded. "Mother's going to kill me…" he said weakly, staring in a panic at a decapitated Grindylow floating on a plate shard beside him. His heart was hammering inside his chest. What if she ordered him to the study? He had never been in there before…

Sirius refused to speak about it.

Sirius was glaring at the scattered plates with a grim determination. There was no panic in him. Not for the first time, Regulus understood why the Sorting Hat insisted on Gryffindor for Sirius. He couldn't understand why anyone would assume any other House for him. Bravery flowed off him like waves. Defiance and stubbornness. All the things Regulus didn't understand, Sirius wore carelessly like a cloak. He didn't even flinch when they heard their mother's screams from the hall.

Regulus did.

"Get out, Reg."

"Siri-"

"Get out, brother. I'll deal with her."

"Sirius, it's my fau-"

"GET OUT, REGULUS!" Sirius' shouts were as harsh as his mothers. "It's my wand, I dragged you to help. They're just plates."

"It was my fault!"

Sirius rolled his eyes. Before Regulus could blink, Sirius snatched his wand and shoved him behind the cabinet. Sirius swung round and aimed a stunning curse at the sea of broken plates. They exploded in a tidal wave of shards, coming to rest at the boots of their mother.

"And now, it's mine."

Regulus could do naught but cower, hidden by the cabinet Sirius had shoved him behind, as he heard his brother being dragged from the room. Alone again. Protected by a brother who was too brave to let him get hurt.

Sirius thrived on disobeying their parents.

Regulus was just addicted to not getting caught.


For The Houses Competition

Prompt: Antique Plate Set