Chapter Seven – Toujours Pur

26th February 1979

"Hey Black, how come your friend Benjy never comes to any meetings?"

"Benjy?" Sirius repeated, glancing away from the clock on the wall. He'd been watching it for the past 10 minutes, wondering why Remus was late to the Order meeting, and whether his job interview had gone any better than the other three he'd attended in the last week.

"He's still at Hogwarts mate," Sirius told him. "Why?"

Fabian hesitated, looking downright alarmed at the news, and Sirius caught muffled laughter coming from his brother and Caradoc Dearborn, who was sitting beside him.

"Er," Fabian said, pushing his long hair back out of his eyes, "no reason. Never mind. He's in his last year though, right?"

"Yeah," Sirius said, "he's Quidditch captain now."

"Thank merlin," Fabian muttered, and turned away from Sirius, back to his brother, who nudged him in the side and continued to laugh quietly with Caradoc.

"Okay then," Sirius said to no one in particular. He shifted against the tall back of the stiff wooden chair he was in, trying to get comfortable. Emmeline's house was nice, cosy almost, but a lot of the lavish, expensive décor reminded Sirius uncomfortably of his parents' house, and the evenings he had spent sitting around the dining table at Grimmauld Place. He tapped his fingers impatiently against the large oak table, wishing the meeting would start already. He didn't really want to be there - he shouldn't be, not really. Not when James was at the hospital with their parents.

After a month of both Euphemia and Fleamont failing to recover from what they'd original thought were mild symptoms, they'd finally decided to ask a specialist healer what was wrong. Sirius had been there earlier in the day, while forms were filled out and tests were run. He'd rather be there now, but James had insisted that he could handle it, and that he and Remus should go to the meeting so that they didn't miss anything important.

Sighing, he said hello to Frank and Alice as they came in from the kitchen, talking excitedly to one another. Behind them was McGonagall, dressed in simple dark green robes that were far too casual for a Professor. Sirius still found it odd, to sit in a room with her, with Dumbledore and Moody, and be treated as an equal conspirator - to not be a student. He wished once again that Remus would hurry up, and glanced down at his watch to see that he was now almost half an hour late.

Maybe it was a good sign. Maybe the interview had gone well.

"Sirius?"

He looked up to see McGonagall hovering over him, her thin lips pressed together in a worried frown.

"Can I talk to you alone for a moment?"

"Okay."

He got to his feet and followed McGonagall into the sitting room, where he stood in front of the fireplace, arms folded across his chest.

The last time he'd seen McGonagall look at him like this was then she'd told him that his Uncle was dead.

"What is it?"

"I'm supposed to be giving a report this evening about the instances we've had at Hogwarts," McGonagall said, "there's been a number of cases of older students - mainly Slytherins but a few of the other houses too - leaving school. A lot of them have family that might be involved with Voldemort, and Dumbledore's worried that if we carry on this way, we could have lost a quarter of the NEWT students by summer. Not to mention all the fights that have been going on..."

Sirius watched her shake her head and clasp her hands over the front of her robes.

He didn't say anything.

"One of the first to leave was your brother," she told him. "We all knew he was upset after your father - Orion's - death, but he became reckless. Suddenly all he seemed to want to do was cause trouble. He left a couple of weeks ago; I'm sorry I couldn't tell you sooner. Since then there have been more and more - people seem to think that they don't need to be in school anymore, not if they join him."

"He left?" Sirius repeated, trying to process the information that McGonagall had just laid out before him. "Just like that?"

McGonagall nodded. "I wanted to tell you first, before I talked about it in front of the Order."

"Where did he go?" Sirius asked coldly, his sudden fury at his brother radiating out of him.

"He was seen with Lucius Malfoy, and your cousin, Narcissa."

"Of course he was," Sirius almost laughed. "But he can't - he's barely seventeen."

"I'm sorry." McGonagall sighed.

"Yeah."

He turned away from her, glaring at the dying embers of a fire that had been lit in Emmeline's hearth. He'd known that Regulus following in their cousins' footsteps wasn't unlikely, but he hadn't given much thought to the reality of it either.

He'd run off to be a Death Eater like it was the most naturally thing in the world, in doing so putting himself in more danger than Sirius could imagine. If he didn't get killed by the Order, by one of his friends, Sirius thought morosely, then Voldemort would surely kill him without a second thought.

Panic flooded through him, and he bit down hard on the edge of his lip, drawing blood.

"I have to go," he told McGonagall, who was still lingering in the doorway, watching him sadly. "I have to - maybe talk to James or - if..."

He grabbed a handful of floo powder from the jar on Emmeline's fireplace. "If you see Remus tell him - just tell him I had to go."

James had received very few letters as distressing as the one that a speckled snowy owl had brought him that afternoon, saying that both of his parents had been admitted to St Mungo's. The owl had flown right into the Ministry building and landed squarely on Alastor Moody's desk, scattering papers and hooting loudly. James had barely had time to process what he was reading before Moody placed some floo powder in his hand and pushed him unceremoniously towards the fireplace that was normally only used by qualified Aurors.

Lily had been waiting for him, ready to slip her hand into his and promise that everything was going to be okay. She'd told him that his parents had seen a healer that morning and the flu-like illness they'd had for over a month had been deemed serious enough to warrant them being brought to St Mungo's. They didn't know anything yet, she'd said, but the healers were doing all the tests they could think of.

Sirius had been sent the same letter as James and had arrived only minutes after him, but once they had seen that both Fleamont and Euphemia were conscious and well enough to talk – though too tired to hold much of a conversation – they'd both felt a bit better. James and Sirius had filled in all of the admission forms together, and when that was done James had insisted that it was okay if Sirius went to the Order meeting that night. But once he'd left, James began to feel his worry building inside him. Lily kept being called away to dress wounds and fetch healing potions as she was still technically at work, and James' parents were both asleep.

When the initial tests came back negative and James had to wait for a second round of results, he started pacing up and down the corridor, unable to sit still. He hated waiting, hated not being able to do anything to help. And beneath that, he felt guilty. His parents had been ill for weeks and he hadn't realised it was this serious – he'd believed his mum when she'd told him again and again that they would be fine.

But maybe she was wrong. If the past year had taught James anything, it was that not everything turned out well in the end. And he was helpless to stop it.

By the time Sirius burst into the corridor where James was pacing, he felt so full of worry and fear that he was close to breaking point.

"That was quick," James said, frowning at his watch. The Order meeting had started less than an hour ago.

"I left early -"

"Well I'm glad you're here, I think the test results will be back soon."

"Prongs -"

"I've been going out of my mind waiting by myself, they haven't told me anything and they won't even let me in to see mum and dad again until they wake up."

"James, listen. I talked to McGonagall at the meeting and she says Reg left school."

James frowned. "Left? He's only seventeen, isn't he?"

"He left to join Voldemort – to be a Death Eater – I can't believe he-"

"Woah, slow down." James felt like this was too much, the final crack in the armour that had been holding him together all day. "He what?"

"He's gone to live with Narcissa – with Lucius Malfoy of all people." Sirius was the one pacing now, almost shouting despite where they were, despite Euphemia and Fleamont sleeping in the next room.

"Don't shout, will you," James said. "Look, when did this happen?"

"I don't know, a few weeks ago."

"Then you don't have to deal with it right now. Just – just wait until tomorrow or something. Neither of us are thinking straight, and -"

"I can't just wait – he could be doing anything, could be getting into trouble. I need to talk to him, and maybe I can stop him before it's too late."

"Don't be an idiot," James said, running his hand through his hair. "You know that every time you talk to him it ends in a fight – there's no point going when you're this worked up."

"I have to at least try, James."

"But you should be here." James heard his voice crack. He had thought he'd be alright on his own, but he wasn't, and now Sirius was here he didn't want him to leave. "You should stay until we get the results back."

"I can't – I have to go."

"Well I can't go with you." His voice was rising. "I'm not leaving them. One of us needs to be here when they wake up."

A flicker of hurt crossed Sirius' face. "He's my brother," he said.

"So am I." James sighed heavily, turning his head to glare at the waiting room door. "Just – just come back as soon as you can."

Sirius stormed down the stairs the way he'd come, James' words echoing in his mind.

He was right, of course. In a lot of ways James was more of a brother - certainly a better one - than Regulus had ever been. That didn't change the fact that Sirius and Regulus had grown up together, had sat side by side at the top of the stairs and listened to the splintering of china against the wall when their parents fought, had told each other secrets, and pretended to be pirates, or spies, running through the echoing corridors of the house.

As they got older, all that of changed, but why should that mean that it didn't matter at all?

Maybe Regulus needed him. Maybe James did too, but Sirius couldn't be in two places at once, and the healers had insisted that it seemed unlikely that Fleamont and Euphemia were in any immediate danger.

They'd be fine. And this might be something he could actually fix, instead of sitting helplessly in the hospital waiting room. He was struck suddenly by how horrible it must have been for Remus, when his mum had been dying, to sit in the hospital for hours on end knowing that there was nothing he could do to help. But this wasn't like that, Sirius reminded himself firmly. The Potters weren't going to die.

He was too caught up in his own thoughts to notice Peter until his friend was stood directly in front of him, and even then, Sirius barely stopped in time to avoid walking straight into him.

"How are they?" Peter asked, glancing up at Sirius with concern.

"What?"

"I spoke to James earlier but I couldn't come until after work."

"Pete." Sirius felt a wave of relief as he looked at him. Peter - a friend who was easy to be around, who didn't expect anything of him, not like James or Remus did.

"They're doing ok - lots of tests but - I'm going to Lucius Malfoy's house. You should come."

"What?" Peter asked, confusion evident on his face. They were standing in the foyer of St. Mungo's, blocking the doorway.

"I need to talk to my brother."

"Isn't your brother at school? I came to see James."

"James doesn't need you," Sirius snapped, grabbing hold of Peter's arm and yanking him out of the way of a wizard who had a plant growing out of one ear. Now that he'd bumped into Peter, he felt a frantic need to keep him with him, to not be alone with his thoughts. "Come on."

Without waiting for a response from Peter, Sirius pulled out his wand, spun on the spot, and concentrated as hard as he could on the manor he knew his cousin Narcissa shared with Lucius Malfoy.

Malfoy Manor was huge, towering over them, and it made Peter feel very small. Tall iron gates parted for them as they approached and then closed behind them with a clash that continued to ring for several seconds, like a bell. Neat hedges enclosed the grounds and they passed several pure white peacocks roaming across the lawn. When they reached the front doors, engraved with fine, detailed swirls and patterns, Sirius reached out and slammed the knocker down three times without a moment of hesitation, but Peter felt more and more like this was a bad idea. He almost wished he hadn't come, but Sirius hadn't given him any choice, and he couldn't turn back now without Sirius thinking he was a coward. Even now that they'd left Hogwarts, Peter was expected to act like a Gryffindor.

The doors opened slowly, and Peter was confused for a moment by the empty doorway until he noticed the small creature standing in front of them. He'd only seen a house elf a handful of times at Emmeline's house, but Care of Magical Creatures had always been one of his strongest subjects and he didn't have any trouble recognising one. Only the richest and oldest wizarding families had house elves, so it wasn't surprising that one would open Malfoy's front door.

"Is Regulus here?" Sirius demanded immediately. The house elf hesitated and Sirius impatiently said, "Just let me talk to Narcissa."

"Madam isn't home, Sirs," the house elf said. "But Dobby will tell Master that you are here."

"I don't want to talk to him – where's my brother?"

"What is all this racket, Dobby?" The voice came from a nearby room, and then Lucius Malfoy stepped up to the door. He frowned at the two of them and then dismissed his house elf, pushing him away with the end of a long cane that Peter guessed he was carrying mostly for the sake of looking important. "What gave you the impression that you would be welcome here, Black?" he said coldly.

"I know Regulus is here," Sirius said, shoving past Lucius. "Reg!"

"I see there's no stopping you," Lucius drawled. As Sirius shouted even louder, Lucius begrudgingly stepped aside and let Peter in.

Soon enough, Regulus appeared at the top of a wide, grand staircase.

"What are you doing here?" he asked. Peter couldn't tell if he sounded pleased or annoyed. Possibly it was both.

"I'm here to stop you from being an idiot," Sirius replied. Peter restrained himself from shaking his head; Sirius never thought before he spoke.

Regulus came down the stairs, and Lucius regarded him with a strained expression, "It appears there will be no getting rid of them until your brother" – he sneered as he said the word – "has spoken to you, Regulus."

"Fine," Regulus barely even looked at Peter. He led Sirius through a heavy wooden door into the next room, and before Peter could decide whether or not to follow them, Sirius slammed the door behind him, leaving him alone with Lucius Malfoy.

The drawing room, Sirius noticed at once, was decorated head to toe in colours that could only be describe as royal. There was black leather furniture with vivid red carpets, large animal skin rugs and gold upholstery on every surface.

The sight of it momentarily distracted Sirius, until his eyes narrowed on his brother, who had flopped lazily into an arm chair, and was looking at Sirius with a haughty arrogance that seemed much more like Malfoy than himself.

"Regulus," Sirius said, trying his best to remain calm. James had been right after all, he wasn't always the best at controlling his temper. "What are you doing here?"

"I was reading a book actually," Regulus said with a roll of his eyes. "Before you decided to burst in shouting like some sort of savage."

"You know that's not what I mean," Sirius frowned. He perched on the arm of a chair, but was immediately on his feet again, unable to sit still. "Why aren't you at school or - Merlin - even at home with mother would be better than this."

"I am with mother sometimes," Regulus said defensively. "And sometimes I'm here. I go where I'm needed."

"You think they need you?" Sirius said, "really?"

Regulus glowered at him, his forced calm briefly betraying him and his jaw set in a hard line.

"They do." He insisted. "I can do things. Things you're too weak to do."

"They're using you," Sirius argued, his voice rising, "so they need you now - and then what? What happens when Voldemort decides he's sick of you?"

"Don't use that name," Regulus snapped. "And he won't."

"Will you be able to live with yourself? With what they want you to do?"

"I do live with it," Regulus retorted, getting to his feet. "I have to live with it. It's what's right for me, for our family. Not that you'd understand the meaning of that."

He was closer to Sirius now, shouting into his face, and Sirius had to take a deep breath so as not to shout right back.

"No Reg, it's not," he said as calmly as he could manage. "You know that, deep down. It doesn't have to be this way - you can still do the right thing. You could go back to school, I'm sure if I talked to Dumbledore - or you could come and stay with me. We only have one bedroom but you could -"

"I don't want to stay with you and your pathetic boyfriend" Regulus said sharply, "I don't want anything to do with you. Why did you even come here?"

"I wanted to -

"Save me?" Regulus sniggered. "From what? I'm exactly where I'm supposed to be."

"I don't believe that."

Watching him was unnerving, Sirius thought. While Regulus had feigned nonchalance before, now he was pacing, rubbing his hands together and glaring alternately at the floor, and at Sirius. Some of his mannerisms were familiar, and Sirius knew that when he was upset, he was also prone to restlessness. But he'd never seen his brother loose his calm to this extent before, and the effect was simultaneously infuriating and horribly sad.

"Get out," Regulus said, coming to a stop in front of him. "Go."

"No." Sirius said, grabbing his brother's wrists as he reached for him. "You can't do this, you're going to get yourself killed!"

"Good!" Reg spat, ripping his hands away from Sirius again. "I don't care. I don't care about you. Just go."

"Well I care!" Sirius shouted back. "You don't belong here."

"Yes, I do!" Regulus said, his shouting replaced by a whiny, almost childlike voice that was startling to Sirius. "Look around, Sirius. I've chosen my path and you've chosen yours. This is just the way it is."

"It doesn't have -"

"It does." He shook his head, but if there was any sadness there, it was gone by the time he'd reached into his pocket and pulled out his wand.

"Don't make me force you to leave."

"Regulus."

Without speaking a word, a yellowish gash of light flew from Regulus' wand, hitting the floor just in front of Sirius' feet, where it left a black, charred burn in the otherwise perfect carpet.

Shocked, Sirius staggered backwards, knocking over an expensive looking vase in his haste.

"What spell was that?" he asked, horrified. "Was that - did you just -"

"Next time I won't miss."

"You stubborn little fuck," Sirius spat. "I want to help you."

"I don't need your help."

"If you're aiming curses like that at your own brother, then yeah," Sirius barked, "apparently you don't."

He turned to walk away, and was about to push his way back through the large wooden doors when he glanced back at Regulus.

"Reg..."

But Regulus' was standing with his back to him, facing towards one of the large paned windows that looked out over the back of Malfoy Manor. He still had his wand clutched in one hand, and Sirius saw the tension in his shoulders tighten when he heard his name.

There were a hundred things Sirius could have said in that moment, some of them good, and just as many insulting.

He didn't think that any of them would do much good.

In the end, a muttered, "be careful," was all he could offer before he slipped out of the door, not waiting for Regulus to reply.

Peter, to say the least, did not know what to say. Lucius was looking amused at the whole situation, and like everyone else he seemed to have barely noticed Peter.

As the voices on the other side of the door grew louder, Peter could hear snippets of their conversation.

"It doesn't have to be this way," Sirius said. "You can still do the right thing."

He was so engrossed in listening that it made him jump when Lucius said, "Spoken like a true Gryffindor."

"What do you mean?" Peter asked cautiously. He was so used to hearing the word 'Gryffindor' spoken with pride that it was strange to hear the scorn in Lucius' voice.

"Always telling everyone what's best for them," he replied coolly, seeming to focus on Peter for the first time. "Always thinking their way is righteous and honourable. Regulus already knows what's best for him. He knows the value of blood, of having the right connections. He is following the path that has been set out for him."

"Sirius is just try to help," Peter said, shifting uncomfortably.

"Oh, I'm sure he is, in his own misguided way, but doesn't he always think his way is the best way? Has he ever for a moment considered that someone else might be right?"

"I guess can get a little caught up in what he thinks." Peter tried to make his voice sound light, but he wasn't sure that he succeeded.

"More than a little. I suppose he never listens to you, either."

Peter shrugged. "Sometimes, sometimes not. I didn't even want to come here with him but he just grabbed me and apparated."

"How uncouth." Lucius was smiling at him now, and he spoke with a conspiratorial tone. "He is too selfish to think about anyone but himself. I doubt he appreciates you being here for him at all."

"He does care about other people," Peter said. "James and Remus."

"But not you?"

"I don't know. Sometimes it doesn't feel like it."

"Typical," Lucius replied, regarding Peter with what might have been sympathy, but could just have easily have been pity. Peter was more inclined to believe it was the latter.

"It doesn't sound like your friends value you as they should," he said. It seemed like he was about to say more, but at that moment the door burst open and Sirius walked out, his anger and pain written all over his face.

"Come on, Peter," was all he said, walking out of the manor without even stopping to check whether Peter was following him – because Peter always followed him. But as he threw an awkward smile at Lucius and hurried down the drive after Sirius, he began to wonder whether Lucius was right. He cared deeply about his friends, but they always seemed closer to one another than they were to him. He deserved more than that.

"Where on earth have you been?"

"Remus?"

"Yes, Remus," Remus said, coming into the hallway of their flat just as Sirius closed the front door. "Remember? Your boyfriend who had no idea where you were for the last few hours?"

Sirius sighed.

He turned to hang up his jacket; he really didn't want to get into any more arguments, not today, and not with Remus.

But when he turned back around, Remus' expression had softened in response to Sirius' own, and he was walking towards him, wrapping his arms around him in a hug.

"You found him then?" he asked quietly, and Sirius closed his eyes, focusing on Remus' breath on his cheek, and the strength of his arms around him. For a second, he could pretend that everything was okay.

"James told you?" Sirius asked, reluctantly stepping away.

"Yeah."

"I found him. It didn't do any good."

"I'm sorry," Remus said.

"Me too."

They wandered into the living room, Sirius in somewhat of a daze, aware that Remus was gone for a moment, before he was pushing a cup of tea into his hands.

"I should get back to the hospital," Sirius said, staring down at it blankly.

"Soon."

"Is James mad at me?"

"I don't think so," Remus said gently, "he was upset and stressed, but he understands. And Lily's finished work now so she'll be looking after him. I don't think the second round of test results have come back yet."

Sirius nodded, and sipped his tea, which was still a little too hot, and burnt the back of his throat when he swallowed.

"I hope he's not mad."

"Sirius," Remus said, in a strangely purposeful tone. He took Sirius' hand so that he was forced to look at him, "I know this isn't the best time, but I need you to talk to me, okay?"

"What about?"

"No, I mean," Remus sighed. "In general, you don't tell me anything, you just go running off and - I'm your boyfriend, you know? I want you to feel like you can come to me, that you trust me."

"I do trust you, Remus."

"I know, I know. It just sometimes doesn't feel like it. I don't want to make you feel bad, It's just that I was worried and -"

"I'm sorry."

"I know, it's okay. Do you want to talk about what happened with Regulus?"

"Not yet, but soon," Sirius said, leaning his head against Remus' shoulder.

"Okay," Remus said, wrapping an arm around Sirius and tugging him closer, "do you want to go to the hospital?"

"In a bit," Sirius said, closing his eyes again as he leant into the warmth of Remus' body. "Can we just stay like this this for now?"

"Yeah," Remus replied, a small smile creeping onto his face as he looked sideways at Sirius, his head nestled against the crook of Remus' neck, and one hand clutched in the fabric of his shirt. "Yeah, we can do that."

5th March 1979

Compared to last Wednesday, this one was fairly quiet. Peter had no James demanding he come to the hospital or Sirius dragging him off to Malfoy Manor. It was just a normal day at the owl post office in Diagon Alley: there were customers to serve, cages to clean out, and letters and parcels to send. Peter had been working there for six months now so he was trusted to run the place by himself, and he found the routine of it all quite calming.

There had been so few customers, what with the Valentine's Day rush over, that Peter was the only person in the building when the door was pushed open and the bell above it tinkled.

He looked up and was surprised to see Lucius Malfoy step through the door, brushing snow from his thick fur cloak and from his long, weirdly bright blond hair.

"Peter," he said, with as much familiarity as if they'd been friends for years instead of having had one brief conversation while eavesdropping on Sirius and Regulus.

"Hi," Peter said, abandoning the owl he'd been coaxing out of its cage with a dead mouse. He'd found it a bit creepy to be handling so many dead mice when he first starting working there, as he felt a sort of kinship with all rats and mice, but he'd long since got used to it. "Can I help you with something?"

"As a matter of fact you can." He laid a parcel wrapped in brown paper on the desk. "This is too heavy for my owl to take alone."

While Peter weighed the parcel, Lucius said casually, "Where is your friend today?"

"Sirius?" Peter scribbled down the weight and began wrapping the parcel with string. "I don't know. He's been away for a couple of days on some important miss-" He remembered whom he was talking to and stopped abruptly. "I mean, he's away. With work."

"Indeed." If Lucius noticed how bad Peter's lie was, which he almost certainly did, he didn't point it out. "It seems your friends are always off doing something important. One of them is training to be an Auror, isn't he?"

"James," Peter said cautiously. He chose two of the more cooperative owls and put on a thick leather glove to carry the first one over to the desk. "Yeah, he is."

"How… heroic. Did you ever consider following in his footsteps?"

"No," Peter said, although the thought had crossed his mind. "My professors didn't think I would be good at that sort of thing."

"Perhaps they didn't fully understand your talents."

"I don't really have any talents," Peter said. "I never do anything worthwhile. I leave that to everyone else."

"And they don't include you in it?" Lucius asked. If he was looking for information on the Order, Peter thought, he must be disappointed.

"Nope. I just work here."

"Just?"

"It's not like working in a post office is brave or anything."

"Bravery isn't everything," Lucius said, with a smooth smile. "Perhaps none of your supposed friends value your job here, but I can see the potential – I see your potential, Peter."

"…you do?"

"Indeed. Perhaps you could do me a small favour?"

"Are you trying to bribe me?"

"Of course not. That would be an insult to you."

Peter bit his lip. "What kind of favour?" he asked warily.

"There's a certain letter that I'd rather not reach its destination. It's nothing serious, just a small personal matter, but I'd appreciate it if you could… take care of it for me."

"I don't know. I could lose my job."

"I'm sure you are much too clever to get caught, Peter. And besides, I wouldn't let that happen. I have enough influence to ensure your job is secure."

"Really?"

Lucius smiled. "I know your friends don't think much of me, that they would tell you not to trust me, but they aren't right about everything. A great many wizards respect me."

"But…"

"You are always in the background, always going unnoticed – you can use that to your advantage. I know that you can do this, Peter."

"I guess so," Peter said slowly. Then, more firmly, "Tell me about this letter."