Regulus sighed, racking his brain for the fastest, safest way to explain things to Sirius, one that hopefully wouldn't hurt as much as dragging out the entire story of his own stupidity and the number of things he wasn't proud of. He wasn't ready for that; he probably never would be ready for that.

After a few minutes of expectant silence, Sirius, who had listened to Regulus for once and seated himself on the floor by the cave wall, cleared his throat.

Regulus shook his head, but he started on the next subject that came to mind. "You know what it takes to cast the Unforgivables, right? Of course you do, every Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher we ever had drilled it into us, and it was on every final exam we ever took. Well, I don't have it, Sirius, and I don't think you have it, either, if that was your plan thirteen years ago when you went after Pettigrew. Even with as much as you hated him then . . . there's no way you hated him enough. I've been up against people I've hated, too, and I couldn't. I don't understand how the people that can cast them have any will to live, you have to hate life that much to do Avada Kedavra. . . ." He shuddered.

"Bella or Stan or Dolph used to cover for me, sometimes . . . well, mostly Rabastan or Rodolphus, since Bella didn't like to cover for anybody. The rest of the time he'd accept that I was young, seventeen or eighteen, and couldn't always get the focus I needed."

Sirius looked at him strangely and opened his mouth, as if to ask when Voldemort accepted anything, but he caught himself and shut it once again.

Regulus chuckled humorlessly. "Well, he didn't threaten to kill me. That's something. He left that for Bellatrix, since she got so much more frustrated that I never could than he would have. He'd've just killed me, after all.

"No, wait, I did pull off the Imperius once. I guess since Bella was still trying to control me back then . . . and she wasn't going to cover for me this time; there was no patience left in her, and it was just me and her and I was running out of time I could buy with the Dark Lord. . . . I just wanted some control over something! And I guess I wanted it badly enough. . . ."

He threw himself onto the floor beside his brother with another sigh and rubbed his temples. "It wasn't the Killing Curse, it wasn't even the Cruciatus . . . properly done it was the mildest of the Unforgivables, even. But . . . it was like something . . . a piece of my soul or something, maybe, I don't know . . . it felt as if something in me had curled up and died or something. Awful . . . how did Bellatrix get used to that?"

There was a fairly pregnant pause while Regulus tried to sort through his thoughts on the incident and find something coherent to say. Sirius lifted his hand as if to grab his brother's shoulder, but thought better of it halfway through the gesture. He let it drop. Regulus thought that was for the best— he'd probably have pulled out of it again, anyway.

"My control over the man didn't last long, obviously. Not because he could fight it but because I couldn't keep it, not while I felt that horrible about it. . . . I really hate using people, you know. I . . . I don't know how I lasted as long as I did. Fear, I suppose."

He shook his head, trying to clear it. "And Bella . . . Bella was proud of me, didn't realize it was disgust rather than unfocused spell casting that made me loose control. She said I was finally shaping up. . . ."

Regulus chuckled humorlessly again. "Thanks, Bella, I really needed another reason to hate what I was doing, when the first girl I saw you kill looked like Cissy four or five months down the road. . . . I joined for real just after I learned she was pregnant with the baby," he added so Sirius would know what he was talking about.

Again Sirius opened his mouth, but Regulus shook his head. Silence settled in for a few more minutes before Regulus broke it by pulling his jacket sleeve up again to look at the Mark. "Like I needed a reminder," he muttered. "It won't go away until he's gone again, you know. If he goes again."

He traced the outline of the Mark, as he'd done so many times in France to assure himself he wasn't dreaming, that it really was there. "He branded it on us. Marked us out like some Muggles do cattle. It's a wonder I lasted as long as I did, really. Damn, I hate using people. Especially after I've been used."

He faded off into silence long enough that Sirius risked a question. "You told Harry it burns when he calls you. How, exactly . . . do you know what he used?"

"Protean Charm, I think. And there's no way to take it off. I checked every spellbook I could get my hands on, before and after faking my death, and there's no way. And you know how many spellbooks dad could've gotten me if I asked."

Sirius nodded.

Regulus chuckled with real humor this time, his mind lingering on their father. "Dad. . . ." he mumbled, smiling slightly.

"What about him?" Sirius demanded.

"There's something he used to tell Narcissa or I about Bella whenever she was acting particularly out of hand— he did more after you left, when she really started going round the bend. Always did it where Mum couldn't hear, of course, since Bella was her favorite. . . . Funny how you always used to claim I was, with the way she doted on Bellatrix."

"I meant between the two of us," Sirius answered. "Not that it matters anymore. What did Dad used to say about Bella, though? You've got me curious now."

"I guess the inbreeding was bound to catch up with us sometime."

Sirius outright laughed at that. "I think he said that to me, once or twice. I'd forgotten how much he hated Bella. Within the family, at least, Dad had reasonable taste, and I guess he would've known where the inbreeding was going. I always thought you were like him in that respect. Him and Alphard."

Regulus smiled crookedly. Since Alphard had long been Sirius's favorite relative, that was high praise. "Anything else you want to know that you think I'll admit?"

"You didn't just leave because Bella threatened to kill me, Reggie. I've been honest enough with you about why I broke out of Azkaban. What were the other reasons?"

"I hated the whole damn set of ideals and propaganda in the end. And . . . the Dark Lord's half blood himself. I have a hard enough time stomaching murder anymore, genocide against his own kind's even worse." Regulus shook his head. "Otherwise?"

"Well. . . ." Sirius looked thoughtful.

"You've got the look in your eye that tells me you're going to ask for specifics about stuff I can't tell you. He was bright enough to come up with Secret Keepers for a fair amount, and usually he was the Secret Keeper. I don't doubt Dumbledore did the same thing."

Sirius shook his head. "All right. You have a point, there."

"Good. I'll take what you told Harry, Remus, and I last year and the kids this afternoon as your talk."

Sirius nodded. "I'd probably repeat myself, anyway." He ran his fingers through his hair and glanced outside. "I don't even know what's important in Azkaban until something happens that reminds me of it. Was Barty Crouch Jr. in your year, Reg?"

"Nah. Couple of years behind. He seemed rather attached to Rabastan or Snape sometimes, though." Regulus shook his head. "Does it really matter thirteen years later whether he was a Death Eater or not, anyway?"

"I guess not. . . . I dunno, it's just one of those things that you might feel a little better about if you knew he was."

"And worse if you knew he wasn't. Face it, the best move the Ministry made after the war was putting Barty Crouch in the Department of International Magical Cooperation. The worst was probably handing Cornelius Fudge the Ministry."

"Have we ever had a good Minister?" Sirius asked.

"Some of the thirteenth and fourteenth century ones seemed decent enough," Regulus answered flippantly, glad to move on to a less morbid subject than Death Eaters or Bella or Crouch.

"History again," Sirius muttered, rolling his eyes. "I swear you are the only kid I know who must've paid attention in Binns's class."

"I dunno. Hermione probably does."

Sirius opened his mouth, no doubt to make some rather unflattering comparison between the Gryffindor bookworm and his brother. However, Buckbeak, indignant that the two of them had been in the cave together this long without either giving him the least bit of attention, squawked piercingly. Both of them jumped and Sirius looked over at the eagle's face, wearing an expression of angry pleading that didn't suit him, and laughed. He went over to scratch the feathers on his neck, muttering about self-important bird-like creatures. He compared the hippogriff rather unflatteringly with Madame Pince, which made Regulus laugh and Buckbeak glare.

Regulus watched them for a minute or so, but his thoughts drifted back towards the beginning of their conversation. He glanced down at his arm. The sleeve of his jacket was still pushed passed his elbow and the snake almost seemed alive in the shadows, swaying slightly as the wind tousled nearby trees. It still scared him, and it probably always would.

Sirius glanced back and stopped stroking the hippogriff, cautiously walking back towards his brother. He leaned against the wall and glanced back down at Regulus's arm, at the Mark. "Are you all right?" he asked quietly.

Regulus glanced back up and then down at the mark, rubbing the blob that would soon become the serpent's tongue— it wasn't whole yet, at least. "The funny thing about the Dark Lord is that we're more afraid of him than you ever were," he said quietly, pulling his sleeve down once again. "You'd do something, while we're probably all just sitting there and sweating."

"Yeah," Sirius answered dismissively. "Are you all right? I know I felt like hell right after that night in the Shrieking Shack, and if you're feeling the same way. . . ?"

Regulus shook his head and got up. "Nah, I'll be all right. He's not back yet, and I'll know he actually came when it burns, so why worry until then?"

"You're better not worrying about things then me, then," Sirius answered, getting to his feet and wandering over to Buckbeak again. "I'd've been panicking about this months ago."

Regulus joined him. "Nah," he answered, rubbing the hippogriff's beak. "Really, I think you deal with stress better. I'm just a little more experienced than you are with the stuff we can't control."

Author's Note: Hm . . . well, the wall is starting to come down now, which is always a good thing, although we can expect more fights in the future since communications a little more open. In truth, I'm just glad to get this particular sequence up, since my original plan was to have it done in two chapters rather than three. Anyway, enough rambling, thanks to everyone who took the time to review! Cheers! —Loki