Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter or any of it's characters. I only own the plot and a few characters I made up to help shape our heroes.
AN: Please skip this chapter if you are triggered or uncomfortable with reading child abuse, they both end up in pretty bad shape. I can assure you that they both end up in care and survive, the next chapter is all about the after affects and that point. PLEASE PROCEED WITH CAUTION, ALL OF THIS CHAPTER IS ANGST!
There was never a time that he could remember where his mother was quiet, she refused to keep her mouth shut even in her sleep. She would always be yelling about something that needed to be cleaned, humming as she blasted someone's name or portrait. But when they flooed into Platform 9¾ there was only the click of her heels as she strode through parting crowds, only pointing at the dark hair that came off the train and disappeared. When his brother arrived at his side, he realized there was nothing he could say to change what was going to happen when he got home, there was nothing he could say to get Sirius to run away before anything happened.
"You're already in the shit house, don't want to keep them waiting and pile on to your own suffering." Growing up in the Black family made Regulus a very morbid nine year old. But who could blame him?
Sirius whacked him upside the head and strode forward like he was Auror walking into battle. "You should watch your language or mother is going to turn her eyes on you when I'm gone. She's hasn't yet, has she?" It was a quip, a snide comment for any passerby to hear so they wouldn't give a second glance to the two making their way to the fires alone. But to Regulus, he could see the fear in his brother's eyes that wasn't solely for himself.
With a shake of his head, the fear was gone. "You know father tried to calm her by saying at least you weren't a stupid Hufflepuff, maybe you could get hidden away because you were in that house."
"I bet mother had a great laugh about that and made some comment about how at the very least if I was a Hufflepuff I'd be away from Potter." The silence was answer enough, only broken as the green flames rose to take them home. 12 Grimmauld Place, never called home by any wizard or witch who was sound of mind. So naturally, his mother was very keen on calling it that.
It was no surprise that Kreacher was quiet when he stepped out of the fireplace to dust himself off, he was always around when something bad was going to happen and this time was no different. If he spoke, mother would notice him and yell for him to go to his room. Regulus felt like a house elf in that way. It wasn't all that different from the way she treated her sons. He crept quietly over to a chair so he could witness what was about to happen.
Sirius was frozen in the middle of the visitor's room, hidden away from any windows and in the right spot that she would know if anyone came in. She had most likely used some sort of bonding spell that would have left him incapable of fight back or even answering her. If she asked any questions. It was more studying than anything else, her taking in the changes of the boy in front of her. She started with something simple, something that would have seemed almost normal if there was such a thing in their house, "You let your hair grow too long, We'll have to cut it immediately." A flick of her wrist and there was only an inch left to tell you what color it was, the strands floating down to his shoulders and to pile up at his feet. " You know I knew that that Potter boy didn't keep his appearance, but I thought at the very least you'd look like a Black."
There was only a glint of gold as their father passed by the room, eyes disapproving of both sons for their foolish behavior. He continued on, blanding in with the shadows as they greeted him. It was too much to ask for him to care enough to even watch or acknowledge what was about to happen.
"Now tell me...why were you placed in the most horrible house in Hogwarts? What did the hat see to place you there, instead of your birthright?" The question was rhetorical of course, but silence would only fuel her rage. The only way to soothe her was to let her walk all over you. "Be quiet, you're snivelling excuses don't matter because I know the truth. You're weak, he figured it would give you enough of a backbone that you won't shrivel up into a worthless shell like your cousins. Andromeda? Do you want to end up like that cow, who just grazes by and lets the world milk her of her magic?" Lies.
Sirius' could control his tongue but he had a hard time schooling his face. He was out of practice. "At least then I would be useful to someone, mother." If it wasn't sarcastic, she might have let it slide.
His screams echoed in the empty house, ringing through the halls like they wanted to be heard long after he had slumped back into his spot on the floor. "It will bid you well to leave the room Regulus, I have tolerated both of you long enough." A dismissive hand and his feet were moving without his consent, all the way to the doorway where he had only a second to look back. Walburga Black was a clinical woman, she looked at problems or objects in her way and she meticulously destroyed them. Sirius, her eldest son, was just a problem.
"Father, he could be useful to us! Like a spy, let us know what the others know about our plans! What their plans are!" His only response was the jolting feeling of apparition before being thrown into his room, his feet catching on the carpet before his back hit a trunk.
A shadow in the doorway glared at him as if he was something hard to swallow that was forced down his father's throat. "You would do well to stay out of the family matters, you are not even the heir so why should it matter to you what happens to the boy? Empathy and family are things that foolish wizards trip over and those who are great step on to climb to better opportunities. Blood is all that matters as Sirius will soon learn if he values his hide." There was no anger in his voice, it was like a flowing river of calm. But Regulus was not fooled, he knew that if he fell in he would be frozen and his body ripped apart by the rocks that lay beneath. A proper Slytherin with self preservation, he held his tongue.
The silence was maddening, he could see the silencing charms placed around his room to keep him isolated from what was happening outside his door. The dark tendrils mixed with the whispers of what could be happening down there and Regulus could do nothing to block any of it out. Silence, he decided, was worse than the screaming.
When the door finally opened the next day, there was no one waiting on the other side. Tentative hands released themselves from red ears, rocking slowly ceased as he stood to analyze the possible escape he was being offered. A trick? He checked for magic but it seemed besides the opening charm there was nothing. Quiet footsteps led down the stairs to the kitchen where he grabbed some food before climbing up the stairs like a dog, glad he had remembered to wear socks. Regulus was not a fool, he knew that his parents would not let him out just to allow him to trample around the house. If he so much as made the floorboards creak, they would hex him and lock him up again.
"Sirius?" It was a quiet whisper as he stared at the open doorway of his brother's old room. All of the removable items had been trashed, posters laughing at the mess that they would never be apart of with a permanent sticking charm holding them in place.
"Master Sirius left, he has. Mistress Black kicked rubbish out the door, a strong pureblood she is. Master Regulus should go to his room, Kreacher can smell his food. Mistress will not be happy if she catches them, no she will not." The house elf popped away as he slid the rest of the way to his room, hiding behind the now closed door again. With how much he had suffered in there, it was hard to understand why he felt such comfort in finally being back in his room. At least for most outsiders, Sirius' would have understood. He was the one who taught him how to get around the house without getting noticed.
The physical pain wasn't a problem, that was something he could deal with in whatever form his mother threw at him. Growing up with the Blacks and having James Potter as a brother was not without its fair share of bruises from rough housing, falling off of brooms and "tripping on the stairs". He could handle every bruise, every broken bone and ever scar that faded away with his mother's talented wand work.
"Sirius, I want you to understand the situation you're in. You are standing here in the Black Household as our eldest son, as a representation of blood purity. Gryffindor is not the only step you took to get here, but also your favoritism to that Potter boy outside of alliances. Your complete disregard for the betrothal we set up for you and your pension towards flirting around with mudbloods." Dark eyes analyzed every flinch, every twitch of his fingers towards his wand holster and the fear seeping past his walls.
In. Out. Speak. "Mother, I can assure you that I had no choice in my house but I do have a choice in the kind I associate with. If Potter wants to make a fool of himself in front of the school chasing some muggle borns skirt like a dog, who am I to stop him?" Maybe if he was smart, he would have stopped there. But eleven year old boys looking into eyes that hold no love are not smart. They are just afraid. "You are a fool if you think I don't hold myself to the standards of this family, even if the people I push into their own mistakes don't share the same commitment."
But Walburga Black was not a fool. So it wasn't Cruciatus that she used that day, she didn't want to hear him scream. She wanted him to obey. "I will tell you one last time. Swear loyalty to our Lord Voldemort or be treated as if you were never born of this family."
"Maybe if I was born to a muggle family, I'd have a better life than this." As many walls as an eleven year old can build, they can always be broken down by late hours spent being told of their worthlessness. By the glare of a mother who created you and made sure you were perfect and is still disappointed. That was his mistake, to bring them up as if he was saying "if I was born to the Potter Family". Muggles were not on their level, they were lowly scavengers scrounging for sex and blood, money drained away by materials that won't even last. They had no magic, no purpose but to destroy and breed and muddy bloodlines.
"Imperio." It was like his spirit left his body and he was forced to watch what it did, ridgid back and a polite icy air that he had never held. "Lord, may you please bring in Regulus?" He was forced to watch as his father dragged in the one person he always tried to protect, always tried to keep the attention off of with his wild inhibitions. She smiled at her favorite son, gasping as Sirius' wand was raised in her direction. "I said you had to learn the spells, not use them on me! You need a better target."
"Of course mother, you are correct." He wanted to close his eyes when the wand shifted to the newcomer, he wanted to scream at one of his only friends before school to get away. Or to tell him Mother had him under a curse. But he had to sit there and watch as his magic surrounded the only family he recognized and listened to the screams that came out of his mouth. He was only a child. They were both only children, but Sirius had grown up more than most teenagers. At least in that house. In that house, there was no childhood. There was no brother.