Disclaimer: I do not own the HP universe-that's J.K. Rowling's.

AN: Thank you for your reviews. I forgot to say that in the last chapter. flush They inspire me to continue this fic. For any who did NOT read my last remark. I reiterate: my chapters are going to be shorter from now on (unless I feel pretty darned inspired). Sorry, if that's disappointing. However, I should finally be able to update more quickly. Maybe. Huzzah!

Chapter 6: The Strain of Brotherhood

Sirius sighed as he stood outside the Hogwarts Express. The Easter Holiday was far too short in his opinion.

He shoved his hands in his pockets. Due to Mrs. Potter's devoted sense of punctuality they'd arrived an hour early. They'd already shoved their stuff into the overhead storage a while back.

He hated moments like these, where there was nothing to do but wait, it allowed his thoughts to wander.

It seemed like he'd been pondering over his enigma of a brother for ages. And he didn't feel any closer to an answer than before.

He couldn't exactly visit Grimmauld unless he had a death wish.

And he didn't feel welcome enough to send an owl. He wasn't sure how he'd feel if his letter was sent back unopened.

Funny, because he'd used to do that all the time to Regulus a few years back.

Back when Reg was a first year (besides borderline stalking him) his little brother sent him loads of mail. He'd gotten a letter or three over breakfast almost every day. It'd been horrid embarrassing to say the least. Filled with stupid kiddie stuff, like how weird the staircases were and how he got top marks for his Charms Essay. And did Sirius like Potions? Because he found it icky.

And then the worst part of all, how it was always signed, "Love Reggie." His classmates had teased him mercilessly for weeks. Everyone calling him "Big Brother Black" and then asking how his little shadow was?

So he'd started sending them back unopened and eventually they stopped.

He hadn't thought much of it until one morning on the last day of school the prior year before his disownment, he'd received a letter addressed to him in fancy looping handwriting he didn't recognize.

Sirius,

Mother's busy. We're riding the Knight Bus home.

R.A.B.

And that was it. No "Dear Brother," "Hey Siri," or a generic "Greetings." There were no pleasantries, no anecdotes, no nothing. He didn't even get a "Sincerely Yours." Damn. The twelve year old hadn't even wasted his time writing his name out.

Sirius sighed and stared at his shoes. There was no one he could really share this with either. He'd made such a fuss about being independent. That his brother was a weight to cast off. And now Regulus saw him in the same light.

What else had he been expecting? That Reg's hero-worship would last forever? That little brother would always end up forgiving him his transgressions and big brother could just ignore their differences? That they could just patch everything up with a little candy and the tossing of a quaffle back and forth? Guess those days were over.

Sirius sighed again and studied his mates. James was still moping over Evans. Apparently she'd returned his Easter present along with a howler. Sirius had been curious to the contents but James wasn't sharing.

Remus was, as usual, pouring over a textbook. And Peter, well, he appeared to be battling with his trunk, apparently unaware that his trunk had a limit on how much junk could be tossed in it.

And so, there was really nothing to do but watch the station clock ticking away.

He was on the verge of offering an organizing charm when a familiar figure came into view.

His brother was hefting his trunk with a rather disgruntled expression.

It probably wasn't a good time to visit; the time to depart was nearing and his brother would be preoccupied with finding a seat but…who knew when he'd bump into him?

Regulus had a talent for avoiding him. Something he hadn't found bothersome until now.

Cautiously, he approached his brother while the latter was busy fiddling with his tie.

The younger panted heavily as he wiped sweat from his brow before readjusting his cufflinks.

Sirius frowned, had he walked? All the way here? Where was Mum? She always kissed her Reggie-poo goodbye.

Nope. No. As tempting as it was to demand some answers, he needed to open the conversation with something neutral.

He sidled up and began with, "So…how was your Easter?"

The comment startled his brother who whipped around to face him, hand half-way to his pocket (undoubtedly for his wand) before he realized he wasn't in imminent danger.

"Why are you talking to me?" the younger boy glowered, hackles raised.

"God, Regulus. I'm just…talking alright? I don't want to fight." He placed both palms upwards in peace.

"Then leave," his brother snapped, grey eyes narrowing.

"What's with you? I'm just asking how your holiday went."

"It was all just peachy, thank you."

"Why? What happened?"

"Nothing! Just bugger off, would you?"

"Don't talk to me that way!"

"I'll speak to you however I wish. I-"

A woman cleared her throat. "Boys."

Sirius sighed and looked down at his shoes apologetically.

Regulus watched the display and felt that wave of anger sweep through him again as he

stared at Mrs. Potter.

She smiled kindly at the younger Black. "Hello Regulus, it's so nice to see you."

I doubt it, he thought menacingly.

"You look a little red, dear. Are you alright?"

"I'm flattered you bestow such concern on my part, but I assure you I am well. It's just a tad warm today."

She nodded in agreement and politely asked about his holiday.

To which he replied that it was quite pleasant, thank you, though he was greatly enthused to be returning to Hogwarts as he had his last Quidditch Match against Hufflepuff coming up.

Mrs. Potter then smiled and said she knew both James and Sirius were also looking forward to their last match with Ravenclaw.

She remarked how it must be hard for his mother having them on opposite teams.

He blinked, his smile faltering slightly and he settled for a nod.

He didn't bother pointing out the obvious that of course, if given the choice, Mum would cheer for her obedient son versus her disowned one.

Besides, it wasn't even though such a thing would ever occur.

But then again, why bother pointing out the other obvious reason: his mother hated Quidditch; always had since he and Sirius played it in her parlour room—a reckless decision that lead to the destruction of her favourite china hatch and all the porcelain within it.

She hadn't really cared that he'd made the team on his second-year. No, his grades had always been her top priority. Though Father had been proud of him and Uncle Alphard had been somewhat impressed. Which was enough, he guessed, though it would've been nice if the rest of his family had bothered to congratulate him.

"Well then," Mrs. Potter concluded, "I'm sure you boys will be cheering for each other."

Regulus barely kept himself from scoffing. Unlikely. He hadn't watched a Gryffindor Match since his second-year. He hated the smug look of victory that lighted his brother's and Potter's faces when they won.

The train horn blew a final warning to tardy students dragging their feet that it was about to take off.

Mrs. Potter swept James and Sirius into a hug and kissed each on the cheek—causing both to protest.

"You two be good," she scolded wagging a finger at both, who half-heartedly assured her that they would.

"And," she continued while looking back towards Regulus, "I hope you do well in Potions. I'm sure your brother will be a good tutor for you. And if he's not…just owl me. And I'll stop sending him my Poppy seed muffins."

"Aww, but Mrs. P that isn't fair," his brother whined.

Regulus flushed. Sirius…Sirius discussed him with the Potters? Worse. He talked about his weaknesses? I mean, sure it wasn't exactly a secret he was a poor Potions student…but really, allowing that side of him to be a topic of conversation?! His brother didn't have any loyalty to him at all!

Regulus stood stiff and alone, grey eyes full of simmering malice. Maybe he should share a few stories at the Slytherin table?

Mrs. Potter then stepped back near the other parents, eyes getting watery.

"So, young Mr. Black, if you'll kindly follow me?" James smiled, taking a step toward his best mate's brother. But the dark look sent his way wiped the sincerity off his face.

For the sake of his mother (who was still near enough to hear any insult he threw), James kept the grin plastered over his visage.

James had to give it to Regulus, he had griping under his breath down to an art.

"Back off, Potter, I'm not sitting with you lot," the younger Black hissed.

"Well I must insist, since according to Pads, you have some unfinished business to discuss. Peter! Take care of his trunk, will you?"

"Right." The plump boy waddled forward to take it.

James and Remus gave a final wave to Mrs. Potter before boarding and heading to their compartment.

"I'm not going," Regulus stated flatly even as he watched his belongings get farther and farther away.

"Oh yes, you are."

"No, I'm not. Prat."

Sirius glowered at him for a moment before grabbing his wrist and pulling him towards the train. He practically had to shove him onboard. And once they were inside, the battle only worsened with Regulus trying to wriggle away.

Sirius (who by now had already been kicked in the shin twice) was swiftly losing patience.

Regulus, who was also growing desperate with frustration, jerked his hand back. And even then, it wasn't enough to break his brother's grip. "Stop dragging me!"

"I wouldn't have too, if you weren't so stubborn," Sirius hissed right back.

"Let me go this instant!"

"I just want to talk," Sirius grit out, trying to stay calm.

"Well, I don't want to talk to you."

"Look, I'm just trying to figure out what the hell is going on with you!"

"Well, it's none of your business!"

"I am your brother-"

"Ha! No, you're not. Not anymore," he remarked dangerously soft.

Sirius face hardened. "So now that I'm not on your precious tapestry-"

"Don't even. It started long before that. You decided you hated us. You stopped being part of our family. You left us not the other way around. So stop playing the victim," he finished as coldly as he could muster.

There was silence before, "Fine then. Fine…go."

Regulus found himself suddenly set free and he glowered as he rubbed his wrist—trying to get the blood to circulate again.

Sirius turned around breathing heavily, feeling furious and helpless and alone in the face of such raw venom.

He had planned to march away, to slam his compartment door shut, maybe gripe a few minutes to James and just…let it all melt away? Maybe even mutter a hollow 'to hell with his brother'?

But he couldn't help looking back.

Regulus tried to stalk away—spine erect and dignified. But he could feel his composure cracking. It wouldn't be long before his face turned red with anger.

He'd managed to keep his tirade quiet but the hate just kept mounting. Like he was a dam that had sprung some awful leak and now vicious angry thoughts longed to spew from his mouth. Damn, he wanted to hurt his brother. Wanted to say the most awful things. Wanted

to watch him bleed for once. Wanted to see it.

Needed to see it. And then-then…then he'd…laugh. Yes, he'd laugh long and hard and cruelly and…God, he was an awful person. What a horrid thing to think.

Was it just the hate talking? Or was it him? Where did the malice end and he begin or were they so tightly woven now that they were indistinguishable?

He needed to find an empty compartment now!

Far away from Sirius and these thoughts and the fury clawing through his chest.

He felt himself starting to wheeze. His lungs just didn't seem to be filling with enough air.

Please, he willed himself, let me be strong. He flung a hand to catch at something—anything to keep from falling.

As his knees buckled and the world went black all he could think was: why was there no justice at all?

Sirius watched his brother stumble—hand grasping feebly at a window ledge before slumping forward.

"Regulus!"

Several compartments slid open at the exclamation, but a vicious "bugger off" had the nosy students staying away. Ah, the perks of a mischievous reputation.

"Padfoot, what's wrong?" James peeked out before joining his friend who seemed frozen beside the prone figure of one Regulus Black.

"What did you do?" James asked in surprise.

His friend stared blankly at him for a second before snatching the magazine out of his hand.

He swiftly knelt down and began fanning his fallen brother.

"Remus!" he called. And a familiar head leaned out into the hall. "Fetch the med-witch at the front of the train. Peter go grab his trunk."

"What? Why?" Peter asked timidly.

"I don't know, maybe he has a prescription or-or something. I don't know! It won't hurt to check now will it? Just go!"

The two marauders scurried off.

"James."

His friend held his gaze—hazel eyes serious. "Clear our stuff off the seats, I'm going to lie him down in our compartment."

The Med-witch, an inviting middle-age woman with a friendly smile, had swiftly followed Remus back to the compartment.

With great composure from years of practice, she calmly entered and knelt beside the younger Black. She swept a few silvering curls behind her ear as she checked Regulus's vitals. She poked and prodded him several more times before leaning back.

"Is my brother aright?"

"Don't worry, deary," she assured, noticing the strained look on the elder Black's face. "Just a little fainting spell. He probably didn't eat enough this morning."

Sirius shook his head. "No, this has been happening for a while now."

The woman frowned. "Has he been watching his nutrition?"

"I-I don't know."

"Does he have any trouble sleeping?"

"I don't know."

"Are there any stressors in his life that you're aware of?"

Sirius passed a hand over his face in frustration. "Dammit, I just don't know."

She laid a comforting hand on his shoulder. "He's alright." She repeated. "We'll just ask him these things when he awakens."

A tense twenty minutes passed before Regulus blearily greeted the world.

He skillfully ducked and dodged his way through the med-witch's interrogation, answering as vaguely and innocently as he could manage.

It was testament to his talents that he could lie so calmly even under the blazing gaze of his brother.

She stayed another hour before a student barged in with news of ailment. Apparently, there'd been a candy eating contest between a Hufflepuff and a Gryffindor first year and now both were sick to their stomachs.

The med-witch, whom they now knew as Mimi, dryly commented that, "A healer's work was never done," and she rose to her feet.

She advised that Regulus continue resting and that'd she check back on him every hour.

And then the already heavy atmosphere became worse.

Regulus shifted awkwardly. It was rather uncomfortable lying here with his brother sitting across from him—staring intensely at him. Even James didn't dare try and lighten the mood, conversing in soft, serious tones with the elder Black.

Deciding that sleep was the best escape from his dismal reality, Regulus turned his back to the marauders and curled up.

Well, James decided, watching Regulus was rather boring. He stretched his shoulders, hearing the sinews pop. He cracked his neck before reaching into his robes and pulling out Wizard Weekly's newest edition of Quidditch Pros. Page 18 had 10 great tips for broom maintenance. He quickly flipped it open.

"He's cold," Sirius remarked to no one in particular as he watched his brother shiver. He

stood up and began reaching up to the overhead storage.

He blinked in surprise, "Hey, where's his trunk? Peter, I thought we told you to bring it here."

Peter froze and pitifully tried to hide his bulk behind James.

"Wormtail, where's his trunk?"

"It's-well-when James said take care of it, and I thought-well-that I was supposed to take care of it."

"What?" he asked flatly.

James shook his head. Of all the worst timing…

"Bloody hell…where's his trunk?"

"Um, his trunk is…kinda on top of the train. I remembered the first time we did that and how funny it was so I just…er…" he trailed off at the snarl on his friend's face. "And...I didn't trust myself to be able to magick it back in while the train's still moving."

Sirius towered dangerously over the plump boy.

"Go and get it," he gritted through his teeth—animosity crackling in every syllable.

"B-but-"

Remus sighed and set down his book. "I'll go with you, Pete. We don't want you falling off."

With that the two boys left, looking almost relieved to escape.

Sirius glanced at James who immediately looked back down at his magazine. He watched his brother tremble again and huddle closer to the seat. He hesitated a few moments before reluctantly draping his own robes over Regulus.

He found James watching him again.

"What?" he snapped.

Potter put up a hand in a peaceful gesture and Sirius sat down heavily beside him.

"Ugh, this is getting ridiculous."

James folded his magazine and replaced it inside his robes.

"Hey Pads, let's talk outside, shall we?"

Sirius leaned against the wall, arms crossed, lips pursed.

James leaned opposite of him, hands in his pockets, face solemn.

"Did you hear what he said to me?"

"…Yes. I-I'm sorry I shouldn't have been listening."

Sirius waved a dismissive hand before asking very softly, "Do you-Do you think it's true?"

James ruffled his hair. "I-I don't know. I mean you did kinda leave, but they weren't exactly giving you a choice. I mean, if I was completely ostracized I don't think I'd be happy to stay."

"It's funny. With how much we'd been arguing right before I left, I thought he'd be glad to see me go."

James was silent for a moment. "Padfoot?"

Sirius nodded glumly.

"Mr. Padfoot, I've a proposition for you."

"Oh really?" Sirius replied without any of his usual gusto.

"I think you're right. He's not well. And he's hiding something. And, Pads, I'm going to help you find out what it is. But under two conditions. One: you have got to keep your temper in check—we can't afford you to be flying off the handle all the time. Two:"

James was silent for a moment contemplating what he was about to say. "If we do find out what's wrong, and you offer to help and he blatantly refuses—I'm going to ask you as your friend…who cares about you…that you'll…let it go."

"But what if something is wrong? And he's just being stubborn about it?"

"If he doesn't want your help. He doesn't want your help."

"But you'll aid me. No matter what scheme I ask, without question?"

James made a face. "Until we find out what's wrong."

Sirius mulled it all over. If his gut feeling was anything to go by, there was something terrible happening to his brother. But could he really abide by James' conditions?

Time for a loophole. If his brother was in trouble he was going to help (no offering or suggestions about it). And if Regulus didn't want it well…he just wouldn't give him the option to refuse.

He grinned and stuck out his hand.

"Deal."

He dreamt of darkness and gloom.

Everything was black, pitch black. Well, he'd fix that. With a snap of his fingers sparks fell and the ground ignited. And then there were flames.

Reaching higher and higher accompanied by a cacophony of screams. And in the midst of all the chaos there was laughter.

And he realized in that instant that all he wanted was to watch the world burn.

He woke with a start and shivered pulling his blanket closer.

Damn. The dreams were coming more and more frequently now. How long would it be before others started noticing?

His fingers twisted the blanket. Wait…when did he? He studied the material.

Robes? But when did he pull these out? He shook his head. A mistake, for the world swam a bit.

When he felt steady enough, he sat up and realized he was blissfully alone. He glanced outside the window and noted that all was dark. They were probably just minutes from Hogwarts.

He yawned as he stuffed his arms through the holes and stood. The hem pooled at his feet. What? Why were they so big?

He extended an arm and the sleeve fell past his fingers.

There was a snicker from the compartment door. He turned. How did he not hear it open?

"Still got a ways to go before you catch me up."

Regulus flushed as he realized whose robes these were.

"Sheesh, I swear you're made of glass," Sirius grumbled as he led his brother off the train.

"I'm alright now," Regulus muttered, trying to shake off his brother's hand on his elbow.

Sirius stared at him incredulously. "The hell you are. No, you're going straight to Madam Pomfrey. And if you don't get better soon, I'm personally hauling you over to St. Mungo's."

He sighed and scratched his head. "I don't understand why Mum hasn't scheduled you an appointment. I mean this is not normal behaviour."

Regulus began to pull away.

"Oi, where do you think you're going?"

"I'm going to my dormitory."

"I think you're a little hard of hearing. I just told you that you're off to Poppy."

"No, I'm not."

"Oh yes, you are."

"You're not the boss of me!"

"I'll drag you by your earlobes if I have to."

Regulus glared at his brother, but there was no joking light in Sirius' eyes. He'd do it.

"And then he marched me up to the hospital wing. He actually took me by the arm and dragged me! It was humiliating, it was bothersome, it-it-it's more than deserving of revenge. Do you have any idea how many people saw us?"

Salem watched him in disbelief. Earlier in the week, he'd been there in the Entrance Hall ready to greet a returning Regulus and he'd witnessed the whole thing.

Regulus had yet to recover from the "spectacle."

"You're angry that he took you to the nurse after you fainted?"

"I told you my passing out happens all the time, it's not a big deal….."

"Reg, when you pass out in a public place, it's kind of frightening."

"It's not like I'm going to fall comatose. I always wake up shortly after. But really, the nerve of him, treating me like a toddler."

Salem released an exasperated sigh. "Well…what do you want to do?"

Regulus paced back and forth in frustration. "We could glue him to a seat, or maybe dye his hair pink—that wouldn't be too hard, I know for a fact that he naps through Binn's history class—and he's a pretty heavy sleeper so he wouldn't notice us. The only problem would be distracting his mates."

"Y-you want to prank him?"

"I'll have to…I can't afford to challenge any of them to a duel. Except maybe Pettigrew. I think I'm more than a match for him."

"..."

"See, I could jinx him during some of his classes, but there's a definite danger of being caught by a teacher."

He paced for a few more moments before continuing.

"I could easily mess with his food, I mean-the house-elves love me so I'm sure they'd help me out. But I really wanted to prank him myself."

"Why do you want to prank him?"

"Because he keeps continually butting into my life. It's a complete breach of privacy. And my trunk wasn't returned for two days."

"So you're going to hex him because he cares? And because you had to borrow robes?"

Regulus whipped around. "How many times do I have to tell you? It is not concern. It's morbid curiosity. And those robes didn't fit me well at all. The cut of the sleeves were all wrong. Made me look like I was swimming in them."

"That's not hard to do. You're so freaking thin," Salem grumbled. "But fashion faux pas aside. I'm certain that…if you were in trouble, you're brother would want to know."

The smaller boy let out a scornful laugh. "I'm sure, so he could lord it over my head no doubt."

Salem's eyes narrowed. "No, I genuinely think he'd want to help."

Regulus clapped a hand on the other boy's shoulder. "God, Salem, you're so naïve. Look, things might be all fluffy and sentimental where you're from—but here, we've got divisions. Every house looks out for itself." At Salem's disbelieving look he amended:

"Oh they occasionally team up, except for Slytherin—but mark my words the cooperation never lasts. The lines that divide us are etched too deep to be forgotten or ignored. And you're in the most ostracized house of all.

No other house will ever ally itself with us. They're jealous and fearful of our power and influence. O they may have their way here at school, but in the real world, we're the ones in control. See, it makes things exceedingly difficult and simple all at once.

On the one hand, you'll always be at odds with the other houses. Ever the enemy to be jeered at. But on the other hand, that division has saved you. You know exactly who you can trust—because only your fellow Slytherins will defend you."

"Because you're all so nice to each other." Salem rolled his eyes.

Regulus smirked. "Snape pretty much summed it up when he said Slytherin House was a box of scorpions. Still, even if we do sting each other occasionally, when we swarm an intruder we're always victorious."

"Comforting. Still, he's your brother, surely that means something?"

"Only that we all have a cross to bear in this world."

Regulus spent the next few days plotting. The few times Salem had peaked over his shoulder he'd found scribbled out notes along with a suffering stick figure complete with shaggy hair and a loose tie; he could only assume it was his younger self.

Regulus schemed tirelessly; ruining potions, blanking out on answers, and creating general mayhem as he'd stop and muse in the most inconvenient places: right beside blind corners, in the middle of the corridor, halfway up the stairs, in doorways, et cera.

Thus, it was only natural that in one of the worst places to be, yes, that was when inspiration struck.

They were climbing down the ladder from the Divination Tower, when Regulus stopped abruptly. This wouldn't have meant much, if he had merely paused, but he'd halted midway and seemed to have zoned out.

"Reg, you're holding up the line," Salem hissed as students above him began to protest.

"Reg!" he urged.

But the boy didn't move.

"Oi, Black, get a move on!"

"I've got a test to get to-"

"If I'm late again and get detention, I'm blaming you, Black!"

"You decide to be an acrophobic for today?"

"Regulus!" Salem practically shouted and for good measure stepped on his brother's hand.

"Go down!"

But rather than hearing an expletive and getting a scowl, his brother glanced up grinning. "I've got it. I know what I want to do!"

He promptly removed his hand from under his friend, jumped the last few steps on the ladder and went racing down the hall.

Salem had to sprint to follow him, which was probably just as well…their classmates weren't too pleased at the moment and the more distance they made the better.

Regulus pulled opened a pair of French doors near a suit of armor. He stepped out onto the balcony and beckoned Salem to follow.

"Reg, we've got Transfiguration next, and we can't be late again."

Regulus waved a hand. "I know, I know. This'll only take a moment. I want you to know my master plan."

"Your master plan?"

"Because you're a part of it."

"Oh joy," Salem deadpanned.

But the smaller Slytherin ignored him. "There! See that? That's Gryffindor tower, evil lair of my arch-nemesis, Sirius Black."

"Arch-nemesis," Salem echoed. He'd forgotten how melodramatic his brother could be when he was excited.

"I've been struck with brilliance. I've made up my mind: I know how to get my brother back. I'm breaking into Gryffindor tower."

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