Chapter Sixty-Five

The cottage almost felt like home.

Perhaps that's why Sirius was drawn there, spending most of his spare moments in his brother's hiding place. Hiding place-turned-Headquarters.

When he was there, the sting over the loss of daily interactions with Harry – things he had always taken for granted in the past – lessened somewhat. For a little while, he could almost pretend that he actually belonged with them; his brother and his nephew. For the underlying bitterness seemed to have ebbed in recent weeks, his brother turning to him now and again with a smile and a joke.

Almost as if Regulus were finally taking him back.

"I know what's going on," his brother said.

Sirius glanced at him; "Who told you?"

"No one. I don't need anyone to tell me. I could see it in everyone's face tonight at the meeting."

"See what?"

"That they all think I'm a dead man walking."

"Then they're a bunch of idiots, that's what they are."

"Wasn't that long ago you'd attribute the trait to me."

"What? I never thought you were an idiot."

Liar.

Both knew it.

Idiot. Idiot. Idiot.

It hadn't gone much further than that. The extent of Sirius' feelings of betrayal seeming almost capped when he had learned, years ago, that his little brother had given in to them; had done as the most Ancient and Noble House would expect of its, legitimate, heir and joined Voldemort's cause and reign of pureblood supremacy and, eventually, the extermination of muggleborns and muggles.

Even then, Sirius knew it was a lie.

His brother could follow and bow and crawl all he liked; Sirius knew he could never be one of them.

Regulus shook his head, looking away; "I don't want people getting hurt because of me."

That was the brunt of it.

Regulus just couldn't stand to see people in pain. He had always been that way. Couldn't stand to see hurt, betrayal, disappointment in anyone else's eyes. Especially not because of him.

A sensitivity that led him down the path to make his parents proud, to do as they said, as they believed, until he eventually found himself in a situation where that side of himself couldn't be reconciled in that place, either. People would still look up at him with that very same look in their eyes. And Sirius knew that when that happened, it wouldn't have mattered if the person looking up at him was blood or just mud, as his family would claim.

It was pain, all the same. And it was something his little brother could never stomach inflicting. Not upon anyone.

Sirius got it.

He had understood for a long time, now.

When they had been children, his little brother's sensitivity had been a source of much teasing. Sirius often poking fun at the seeming weakness.

His compassion.

It was a truth for which Sirius would always feel ashamed.

"From what Snape's been saying, the only people getting hurt are Death Eaters. Seems your old master is blowing a bit of a fuse about it all."

"Well, I was part responsible for killing a bit of him. It probably didn't go down well."

"Looks like only his people are bearing the brunt of that right now. There hasn't been a Death Eater attack in almost a week; two pureblood to muggleborn weddings overlooked. That never happens."

"I guess there's a silver lining to everything."

"Seems so."

"How's Severus?"

"What?"

"Well, he's in the Circle. Tonight was the second Order meeting he missed. And it doesn't take a genius to figure out the Dark Lord won't be happy with him. Dumbledore's the one who destroyed the horcruxes."

"I don't think Voldemort knows that. Snape's still breathing, if that's what you're asking."

"You know that for fact?"

"Yeah. Lily was with him last night."

"Ah."

Regulus smirked to himself, looking away.

For some reason, his brother found Snape and Lily to be a most pleasing and amusing development though, like Remus, he had not seemed the slightest bit surprised when Sirius had shown up at one of his hideouts in a fury the night that he had learned of it.

Apparently the only person who hadn't been expecting it was him.

As if Sirius had been missing something or, even worse, as if Snape and Lily were the most natural thing in the world and he had just willfully ignored the signs.

He pushed aside any and all thoughts of it; the two of them, together, still gave him the icks.

"You don't seem concerned."

"About Lily?"

"About this." Regulus indicated the interior of the cottage, with a lazy wave of the hand.

"Oh. Right. Well, that's because I'm not."

His brother was, though. Sirius could easily identify the little spark of fear in his eyes.

"Are you? You shouldn't be. I hear your Secret Keeper's a real top-notch chap."

Regulus shot him a grin, nodding and heading to peek out the window; a nervous habit he seemed to have developed over the past several months. Always looking, peering cautiously, out the windows.

"He'll never find you, Reg."

Regulus looked over his shoulder at him; the seriousness of his statement seeming to take him off-guard.

I'd sooner die.

The words went unspoken. But the implication was there. For, to get to his little brother, anyone would have to go through him.

And no bloody Death Eaters were getting passed him this time.

He'd learned. He knew better.

Sirius wouldn't make the same mistakes with Reg that he had made with James. He'd bear it. He'd keep the secret. No one, no one else could be trusted with it.

Sirius would protect what was left of his family with his dying breath.

"Thanks, Sirius."

He met his brother's eyes at the rare sincerity in his voice, for whenever Sirius had heard it, it was always laced with either bitterness left over from things passed or with a playful lightness that sought to keep him at bay, diminishing any vulnerabilities that words may express to him.

But not now.

Now, his little brother was looking at him with eyes that expressed more than just the gratitude he gave voice to. Totally open, vulnerability so apparent, and Sirius was struck by how much he looked like he did back when they children. When Regulus would turn to him, look up at him with those eyes, as if he trusted no one else but his big brother to protect and explain the harsh realities of the world; asking him the hard questions like; "why is Andie going away?"

He reached out, a hand on Regulus' shoulder that tightened in a grasp, Sirius attempting to pour all that he felt for him in that single gesture, for the two of them had never been the types to open up and reveal their innermost feelings and regrets – with the exception of the time Regulus had seemed to have lost control of his faculties – and now was not the time to start.

It would seem too much like goodbye and Sirius didn't want his brother thinking he wasn't taking this seriously. That Regulus being discovered was even a possibility.

It wasn't. It would never be.

Sirius would protect him.

There would be plenty of time for warm words and proper reconciliation when all this was over.

Maybe, then, they could be brothers once more.

Regulus didn't know what it was.

He didn't know what made him wake, late in the night, and creep from the bedroom and down the stairs. Quiet, careful not to wake Malachi, who slept in a transfigured bed next to him in his room; there were three bedrooms in this place but his son would never sleep in a separate room now.

The little boy's fear, the lasting effects of being on the run for so long, almost crippling him; the idea of being apart from his father in the dead of night – the time when those who hunted them always seemed to strike – not at all acceptable to him.

It was always in the night.

Regulus walked to the window of the sitting area, curtains already pulled apart. There was no need to draw them, after all.

No one could see inside.

Regulus peeked out.

His heart skipped.

It took a second for his eyes to adjust. For his mind to fully register what it was he was seeing.

Who.

There, barely a foot in front of him, on the other side of the glass, his oldest cousin; Bellatrix Lestrange.

Eyes dark and menacing, staring straight back at him.

It was fine.

It was fine.

What did it matter that Death Eaters had happened to stumble upon the precise location of Regulus' hiding place, after all?

Dumbledore assured Severus that, despite the seeming breakthrough on the Dark Lord's side, there was absolutely no way that Regulus or his son could be touched; so long as they remained indoors and their Secret Keeper remained anonymous.

He told Severus to consent that the new Order Headquarters were being protected by the Fidelius Charm; thereby releasing Severus from any accountability for not revealing the details, while at the same time casting across the very real probability and doubt upon the Dark Lord's mind that Regulus would ever be accessible.

If Regulus were being held at a Fidelius protected Headquarters, the most natural conclusion would be that said location was under the protection of Albus Dumbledore; the old man Secret Keeper to the location.

The Dark Lord was not pleased.

After bearing the brunt of the Dark Wizard's fury for the better part of an hour, Severus was dismissed; weakened and still twitching in the aftermath. But he knew better than to come unprepared, the Dark Lord seeming far more ready to punish them all physically this time around than he had, before his fall. The need for clemency seeming to give way in face of the fact that fear now seemed to be just as great a motivator at keeping them devoted than conviction that he could offer them anything in return.

Severus quickly downed the various potions he knew to keep on his person, always ready for the worse.

The effects allowing him to carry on his mission with due haste, negating the need to return home for the remedies.

Lily would be there by now. She would be waiting for him.

She would be waiting a while.

Severus had another stop he had to make first.

Malfoy Manor.

"Severus," Narcissa greeted him warmly; "Come in."

They exchanged the necessary pleasantries before getting to the point; "Is Lucius home?"

"He's on assignment."

Severus gave a sober nod, quickly catching the look of unease in Narcissa's eyes; both of them knew there was only one matter of importance to the Dark Lord right now. The capture of her youngest cousin.

Narcissa made no mention of the fact.

She knew better.

A Malfoy by name, maybe, but at heart; she was a Black.

She knew the role she had to play.

"I see." Severus glanced at the door to the library.

"Can I help you with something?"

Severus shook his head; "Thank you. I had only hoped to investigate an assignment of my own. There are some books of Lucius' I thought might be of help."

"Please." Narcissa indicated at the door; "Help yourself."

Severus nodded, expressing his thanks, and made his way to the library.

Narcissa didn't follow.

He was glad of it. Exhausted, he was in no mood for company. Most definitely not at all in the mood for polite conversation, skirting around the subject which he could see in Narcissa's eyes she most wanted to enquire about; Regulus.

Severus guessed Lucius had opted to keep her in the dark.

He always did.

Narcissa and Draco were something Lucius seemed determined to keep apart from it all.

Severus set about his search, hoping it would turn up nothing; his own task being to do all he could to learn of the particulars of the Fidelius Charm. The components. The methods. Any weaknesses to exploit.

Severus would rather suffer the Cruciatus a millions time over, die, than offer up any information that would lead to the Dark Lord getting his hands on Regulus.

Severus turned, almost tripping over a house elf that seemed to have appeared out of nowhere.

Parchments were clutched in the creature's hands, hands that quickly flew up as its head bowed; "Sorry, Dobby is most sorry, Professor Snape."

Severus rolled his eyes, stepping around it.

"The Mistress has asked that Dobby bring the Professor anything that he wishes."

"I don't need anything."

"Yes, sir. Dobby understands. Dobby is just leaving these here, sir."

Severus turned then, with a frown. Watched as the little house elf walked towards the desk. With a jump, the parchments it was clutching were placed upon the surface.

It took a step backwards before it turned, looking at Severus directly. Holding his look for far longer than would be considered appropriate; impertinence, indeed. Almost as if it had been ordered to do so.

And then the house elf glanced back at the parchments, back at Severus, before it turned and left the room.

Odd.

Severus stared after it for a second.

The implication behind the house elf's actions seemed clear.

Severus put the book he was holding back onto the shelf, turning and heading to the desk; no doubt in his mind that Narcissa had ordered the house elf to place them there.

Had ordered it to make sure he was aware of them. To draw his attention.

Severus lifted it, unrolling it, eyes quickly skimming over the parchment; a deed notice.

The cottage in Scotland.

The cottage Regulus was confined to.

His eyes quickly moved over the document; the information Lucius had managed to procure concrete. His position in the Ministry as invaluable as ever.

Everything was here.

The address.

The date of purchase.

The name of the person who had acquired it.

Sirius Black.

Severus dropped it back onto the desk.

Strode from the room.

Narcissa was in the hallway to the parlour, eyes meeting his as he hurried on by.

Waiting for him.

There was relief in her eyes when she caught the panic in his.

But no, it was too late.

They didn't stand a chance.

Not a doubt in his mind what it was that Narcissa was telling him.

The Dark Lord was going after Black.

"I need glasses?"

Harry didn't sound pleased.

Sirius gave him a grin; "You'll look great! Come on, only the best people in the world wear glasses, little man."

"Like who? I don't know anyone."

"Your dad wore glasses."

Harry didn't look impressed by the reminder.

Sirius laughed, wrapping an arm around his shoulders and pulling him in for a side hug, as they walked down the path to the house; "Chin up, Harry. You'll get to pick them yourself and everything. How about we go tomorrow? Surprise your mum."

"I thought we were going flying tomorrow?"

"We are."

Sirius undid the wards, pushed the door open.

"All day?"

"As long as you like. After we've been to get those eyes of yours sorted out, mind. Can't have you flying about on a broom when you can't see properly."

"But I can see. I told the tutor!"

"No reason not to get it checked out."

Harry's shoulders drooped, heels dragging as Sirius urged him inside.

"I need a hot chocolate," Harry declared, with a sage nod, as Sirius pushed the door shut behind them; "It might make me feel better about this."

Sirius snorted, ruffling his hair and giving him a shove; "It's after nine, chancer. Upstairs, get your jammies on. Hot milk, maybe."

"You run a hard bargain, Uncle Sirius," he said, seriously, making Sirius laugh outright.

"Where do you hear this stuff?" He waved a hand; "Go on."

Harry shot him a grin and then turned, hurrying up the stairs as he was told.

Sirius headed in the direction of the kitchen, casting an absent-minded 'lumos', as he did.

He supposed a hot chocolate wouldn't do any harm.

"How touching."

Sirius froze.

His head turned in the direction of the voice.

It wasn't a voice Sirius recognised; he was certain he had never heard it before. But he knew, without doubt, as if by instinct, exactly who the person who spoke was. Even before he stepped out from the shadows, revealing himself to him.

Voldemort.

Oh shit.

Oh shit.

Voldemort didn't come after Order Members himself.

It just wasn't done.

Sirius' mind was running a mile a minute, hand quickly grasping for his wand, seeming to take leave of all senses in that moment.

Voldemort flicked his wand in his direction, lazily, not speaking a word but Sirius' wand was suddenly sent flying across the room; disarmed with a simple flick.

Any Gryffindor courage he may have had seemed to have left him in that moment, rendering Sirius completely immobile, silent, as the Dark Wizard advanced on him, circling him.

"So. This is the infamous Black traitor, is it?"

Sirius stared.

"The very one who has kept Regulus so well concealed from me for the past several months."

Voldemort stopped in front of him, staring at him, full-on; "This needn't be unpleasant." His voice was silky, menacing, as he lifted his wand, trailed it against the side of Sirius' neck. He felt the sting of it, as if it were a blade, drawing blood.

"Do tell me, Mr Black, where is your little brother hiding? I am not an unreasonable man. Should you opt to oblige me, perhaps I will be lenient."

Sirius swallowed.

"The Fidelius Charm, is it? One would think that after failing so masterfully at utilising it the first time, a person would elect to try something a little different. But no matter. What's done is done."

Silence.

"Come now, Mr Black, do speak up. Only one Black need die tonight."

It took every ounce of resolve within him for Sirius to hold his head high, simply stare straight back at him; unyielding.

No way.

No way would he give up his brother.

Even if Sirius was quite certain he was on the verge of wetting himself right now.

A shuffle from behind, a thud, and then Sirius' blood ran cold with the next words spoken. Not by the monster than held a wand to his neck, no.

But by the boy who Sirius loved most in the world.

"Uncle Sirius?"

Voldemort didn't move.

Eyes remaining on Sirius completely, entirely unmoved by the fact that he was quite ready to murder a man in front of the child entrusted to his care.

"Outside."

"But –"

"Go."

Sirius was careful not to say his name. Not to say anything. Nothing that would give them away.

Voldemort seemed entirely oblivious to the identity of the child who stood behind him.

Harry didn't move. Rooted to the spot by worry for his uncle.

"Who are you?"

No.

No. No. No.

Don't talk to him, Harry.

Voldemort's lip curled, then, at the question. He turned, slowly, eyes coming to rest on the boy who stood at the bottom of the stairs, who was eyeing them both with a mixture of concern and defiance.

Harry recoiled, a flicker of terror, when he caught the first glimpse of Voldemort's face; a thing of nightmares.

But then he straightened.

Foolish bravery.

"Outside now."

Sirius heard the panic in his own voice, stepping forward, trying to keep himself in front of Voldemort, between them; "It's me you want."

But Voldemort had seen an opportunity now, eyes entirely on Harry, and they were almost dancing with amusement as they looked the brazen boy over from head to toe.

Harry remained still - stupid, stupid boy - staring right back at him, as if it were a challenge. A game.

"Foolish child. Oh so brave." Voldemort mocked, attention entirely on Harry now, even as the tip of his wand pressed firmly against Sirius' throat; "What's your name, little one?"

"Don't –"

"Harry Potter."

The change in the air was palpable.

The amusement in Voldemort's expression suddenly gone; eyes glinted as his chin tilted downwards, studying Harry more closely.

And then a low rumble, a laugh sounded from deep within the Dark Wizard's diaphragm, and he practically savoured the name as he breathed it out; "Harry Potter. Well. Well, well. It seems the fates have seen it fit for us to finally meet."

Sirius' eyes glanced to the side; his wand.

Voldemort's head titled to the side; "I have often wondered. Yes. I have indeed." His eyes narrowed; "Come here, child."

"Harry! Run!"

He did.

Finally seeing sense.

Voldemort flung Sirius aside, abruptly, and Sirius quickly summoned his own wand; grasping it and turning just in time to see the door Harry pushing open slam back shut in his face, invisible locks sounding up and down the hinges and then the shutters suddenly slammed closed across all the windows. Trapping them inside.

Voldemort lunged for Harry.

"No!" Sirius blasted out a curse, distracting Voldemort enough for him to throw up a shield; precious seconds Sirius used to throw himself between them, taking Harry by the arms and drawing him behind him.

"Uncle Sirius."

The brazen defiance in Harry's voice was long gone now, replaced only with terror.

"Just stay behind me."

He felt Harry's hands curl into the back of the fabric of his robes.

Voldemort seized Sirius by the collar, pulling him upwards so they were eye-level and then launched an attack on Sirius' mind; so unexpected and with a power unlike anything he had ever felt before that he could do nothing at all to stop it.

Suddenly, his line of vision blurred and was filled with images of Harry.

Harry was everywhere. Laughing. Crying. Throwing tantrums. Flying on a broomstick. Jumping on his back.

The pressure in his mind suddenly intensified, making Sirius cry out, and then there was Regulus, Malachi.

And, then, Dumbledore.

Memories levelled out.

"Motive…to kill a boy?"

"To kill a boy…Voldemort has made it a priority to eliminate the threat –"

"Harry?"

"- It is imperative that he does not get his hands upon the prophecy – Voldemort's ignorance remains our advantage –"

Sirius' vision cleared.

Voldemort's eyes glinted and his lip curled, a satisfied smirk that ventured on a snarl as he tossed Sirius away, to the floor in a heap; "Stand aside."

What?

"No!"

Sirius flung himself back between them, as Harry cowered back in terror, his back against the wall.

Sirius cast another curse, blocked easily, struggled and barely managed to shield himself from the spell that was cast his way in turn, before a second spell got him barely a second later; wand flying from him once more, disarmed.

"I have use of you yet, Black. Get out of my way."

Never.

He would never.

Sirius grasped, frantically, at Voldemort's arm as he attempted to force him; attempted to simply cast him off, allow him to live, while his eyes menacingly lay directly upon the boy who Sirius loved with every ounce of his blood.

"No!" He screamed, throwing himself at the monster now, tearing back against his shoulders when he went to raise his wand while Harry cowered, tearfully, too terrified even to run.

Sirius summoned his wand, flung another curse, a sectumsempra.

Got him.

Voldemort turned then with a snarl, arm swinging around and sending Sirius back to the floor but he didn't stay there long. He quickly scrambled up, putting himself between them.

Between Voldemort and his Godson.

And the glint in the Dark Wizard's eyes changed then, resolve breaking, a decision being made.

Sirius could hear Harry sob behind him. Wanted nothing more than to go to him. To assure him it was going to be okay.

A lie.

It wouldn't be.

Sirius could see it in those final seconds.

He had always imagined he would go out on the battlefield. Serving. Laughing. Fighting.

Never like this. Not in quiet, petrified fear, knowing that all was lost. That he had failed in the very purpose that had driven him all these years.

To keep James' family safe.

To protect Harry.

Voldemort lifted his wand, speaking the last words that Sirius Black would ever hear.

"Avada Kedavra."