Whispers of the Veil
Not Even a Mouse

The scream of pain Sirius expected to come from Regulus as Kreacher gently took the younger wizard's arm into his own never came, although Sirius did, as he clamped his eyes shut, here a whimper from his younger brother. He also felt the way Regulus still trembled despite the calming drought forced down his throat. Sirius also noticed how Regulus' head rolled back, so it now rested on his older brother's shoulder.

Sirius took a deep breath, opening his eyes when he didn't hear a sound from his younger brother. Looking at the wall, he asked, "Is it done yet?"

"Yes," Kreacher said.

"What was that about being glad of the silencing spell placed on the room."

"Mistress would certainly have hurried up the stares the moment she heard a cry from Master Regulus," Kreacher said. "And while Kreacher doesn't care if the young master gets punished for his misdeed, Kreacher does care if the other young master does."

"Of course." Sirius let out a huff of irritation, turning his head to look at his younger brother, his mouth pressed closed as he looked at his younger brother, perplexed by how out of it Regulus seemed to be. "Hey?"

Regulus didn't respond.

Sirius took a deep breath, then reached up a hand, gently squeezing Regulus' right shoulder. "I'm sorry, Reggie. I really am."

He tilted his head, resting against Regulus' thinking things over. His mind still remembered Death and how he'd pointed to the door, and he thought he was going home. Except he hadn't, and instead ended up in that nightmare of a home of his, but for some reason, things seemed even worse than they had before.

"Why did you act like you did, Reggie?" Sirius asked, still holding his brother close. Glancing over, he could see Regulus starting to fall asleep because of the calming drought, his face still stained from the tears that had fallen from his face. "What did I say to you that upset you so?"

Sirius lifted fingers calloused from holding a wand to the small chin, his mind trying to remember when the last time he'd seen his younger brother was, let alone what happened around that particular time—

"Kreacher!" Sirius said, his body tensing, remembering he still didn't know when he'd return as he lowered his hand. "What year is it?"

Kreacher glared at him from where he sat on the bed. "What is young master saying? Young master knows very well what year it is."

Sirius let out a sniff, irritated with the foul creature. "Why are you still here if you won't be of any help?"

Because the House Elf hadn't left, hadn't become invisible as House Elf were apt to do, particularly one like Kreacher who lived to serve his mistress by being out of sight and out of mind as much as possible. Still, even before falling through the veil, Kreacher preferred not to loiter around Sirius any longer than it took to throw out a few choice words about what a horrible letdown Sirius had been to the house of Black.

"Well, how old am I?' Sirius asked, letting out a deep sigh.

Kreacher's nose wrinkled. "What has gotten into young master? The young master knows full well how old he is. What kind of game are you at, young master?"

Sirius frowned, wrapping his arms protectively around Regulus, his mind not understanding why his younger brother always adored that foul creature so. One hand reached up and absentmindedly brushed back a lock of black hair from Regulus' forehead. "How old am I? What year is it? What term will it be when I return to Hogwarts? Tell me, Kreacher."

Kreacher glared, obviously irritated at Sirius' question. "Kreacher thinks the young master is asking questions just to see if he can get Kreacher to do whatever he wants. Young master is very naughty."

"Krea…" Sirius started.

"Sixteen, seventy-six, first term of the year," Kreacher said.

"Hey," Sirius tilted his head up. "I wanted to know what year I am at school."

"That isn't what young master asked."

"Just tell me what I want to know, Kreacher."

"Sixth year."

Sirius frowned, hugging Regulus close. "Wait? I've not run away yet?"

Kreacher's nostrils flared. "Young master was just about to before he terrorized his younger brother for some unknown reason. If mistress knew, if she only knew!"

"Regulus would be," Sirius said, then paused, squeezing his younger brother's arm. "He'd be getting in trouble too, wouldn't he?"

Kreacher let out a huff, glaring at Sirius.

"Kreacher, answer the question!"

"Young master should have realized much sooner, rather than dragging the other young master down with him should mistress find out."

"What are you talking about?" Sirius sighed. "And when I ask a question, Kreacher, I do, in fact, mean for you to answer."

"Kreacher can not, as Kreacher is under master Regulus' orders not to say. Kreacher would rather disobey the young master than ever betray the other young master."

Sirius frowned, still holding his brother, letting everything sink in while still glaring at the House Elf, wondering if he should order the House Elf gone, given his dislike. He wanted to say he wasn't asking Kreacher to betray Regulus, yet the words didn't come out. Instead, Sirius swallowed, tensing when Regulus twisted around, snuggling in closer.

"Not a ghost," Regulus muttered.

"No," Sirius said. "You're very much…."

Sirius didn't finish the sentence, his eyes closing. "Hey. Kreacher? If it's seventy-six, does that mean Regulus is fifteen? Not twelve, thirteen?"

"Master Regulus will turn fifteen at the end of July, but young master should know this."

"Yes, yes," Sirius muttered, remembering how Regulus had emphasized he wasn't a child and knew he shouldn't be crying.

He looked at the ceiling, trying to piece things together. Without thinking, one of his hands brushed a lock of black hair away from Regulus' face while looking around the room decked out in Slytherin colors. Everything was neat and pristine, perfect as Regulus always was—as Regulus typically was. Yet he'd seen it there, his perfect little brother breaking down in a way he'd never expected. Sirius tried thinking back to any memory of a similar event, and yet—

"Not a ghost," Regulus said.

And Sirius almost said, " No, you 're very much not a ghost. You're very much alive. "

"Sixteen, seventy-six, first term of the year," Kreacher had said, and then said next year would be Sirius' sixth year which would be his first year away from this place, as he'd run away that summer—was likely running away given the suitcase on the bed in his room which explained why there was a suitcase on the bed.

Looking at the ceiling, he didn't remember Regulus being there, asking what he was doing. Sirius narrowed his eyes, frowning, thinking back, trying to remember what Regulus was doing. He remembered arguing with Walburga quite a bit the summer Regulus would turn fifteen about his OWLs and his behavior at school. Yet, Regulus—he'd not retained memories of Regulus showing his face outside of meals if he managed to show up at all.

But he did remember—

"Why haven't you come home yet?" Regulus asked.

"Home?" Sirius remembered saying in response. "That's not home. Did you even notice when I'd left?"

And then came the stinging words, the " No. "

Sirius took a deep breath, still watching Kreacher, who was glaring at him, while Regulus snuggled in closer, his brother's pale, thin fingers twisting into Sirius' shirt as the younger Black breathed softly, his face still tear-stained.

"Kreacher. Get. And don't tell her," Sirius said, waving his hand and finding it difficult to think while the House Elf was still glaring at him. When the elf left, he breathed a sigh of relief. Sirius turned his head, still feeling his brother's small frame, noticing his brother was smaller than a fifteen-year-old should be, his mind registering that had always been true. "Or perhaps this is a world Death's created to play tricks on my mind." Sirius let out a deep sigh. "Why? Why did you notice this time? It's not as if…."

"It's not as if you'd care," Sirius almost said, but then—

"I'm a ghost now, am I?"

That was what started the entire thing; the whole mental breakdown he'd just witnessed ended with—

"I'm not a ghost."

Sirius frowned, glancing down at his brother, who was now clinging to him. The strangeness of it, of his younger brother clinging like that—

He started detangling Regulus from him, feeling as if Death were attempting to play tricks on his mind. Slowly, he lowered Regulus so his head would rest on the pillow of his bed, but when he tried loosening Regulus' grip on his shirt, he heard Regulus say, "No. Don't go."

"What?" Sirius said.

"Siri, don't go."

Sirius paused. "I thought," he started to say, only to not finish the sentence. " I thought you didn 't care about me leaving. You didn't notice I'd left. " His head turned, looking at the door to Regulus' room, before sighing. "Of course. Not noticing my leave didn't mean you didn't care."

"Siri," Regulus muttered, still under the effect of the Calming Draught.

"Sush. I'll be back," Sirius said, finally untwisting Regulus' fingers. "I'm not leaving. Not yet."