Disclaimer: I do not own the Harry Potter universe, it belongs to J.K. Rowling.

AN: Thank you for your reviews! Sorry it's been a while, my time's been dominated by that evil institution known as education.

***2019: Finally got to revise some of this :D Huzzah! We'll see if the re-readers notice!

Chapter 3: One Frail Little Brother

Salem reclined against the bleachers, eyes intent on the little book in his hands. It surprised him how addicting this pastime was becoming, though he had to be careful not to attract Regulus's attention—that could lead to a lot of difficult questions.

He was starting to spend a little time every day reading a few snippets. He had the bizarre feeling that he'd been given a huge clue—that if he finished this collection of memoirs he'd solve the mystery of his brother and be enlightened on how to rescue him from a future of Death Eater Masks and murder.

Dear Diary,

Siri took me out today and we got ice cream. It was good. Siri smiled at the filthy muggle ice cream man and tried to make me do it too. I didn't. Siri got mad. He says I am not good. And he didn't want to play with me for the rest of the day. He kept saying that Andi would be disappointed at me. I don't care. I'm not like Siri. I don't like Andi. She's nice to mudbloods. She's not nice to me.

Dear Journal,

Siri says I shouldn't call you diary cause that's what girls call it. We played Quidditch today in the living room. Mummy got mad. I got scared. Siri just kept laughing. I think he likes trouble.

Dear Journal,

Siri's really excited about going to Hogwarts. I wish he'd wait for me. It's going to be really quiet without him. No one's going to play or talk to me now. I thought about hiding in his trunk, but Kreacher said it was a "not good idea." When I thought about it, I could see why. Siri packs a lot of junk—a lot of nasty junk. I would not much like to be in with all his prank gear. And I don't think all of his socks are clean. Blech!

Salem felt a smile quirk his lips and he tore his gaze away from the book to its author soaring above head. It was hard to believe that the open, innocent dialogue of these passages belonged to the nearly mute and secretive seeker of Slytherin House.

The Slytherin Quidditch team was busy with drills this late Saturday afternoon. Flint was barking orders at his teammates like he was some supreme deity of authority.

God, the bloody lot of them looked like ogres. Well except for Regulus. But then, Regulus had the famed Black good looks. It also made him stand out like a sore thumb in the line up. He was good head or more, shorter than all the other players, and a good deal handsomer.

It was also the source of much teasing. Pansy, waif, pretty boy, little prince, were common nicknames attributed to the young Black.

Salem was surprised that Reggie could take it so unflinchingly. The kid never batted an eye at the insults. He took it with that resigned air of someone who was used to injustice.

It made Salem squirm with anger. How could his brother just take it? Why didn't he fight back or something? He'd have hexed the lot of them if it were him. Hell, he wanted to the curse them all now!

But Reggie would get mad at him. The boy wasn't confrontational. He kept reiterating this nonsense about the importance of keeping in the good graces of the House.

Salem sighed and pushed back a tousled blonde curl from his forehead. He watched as Regulus made another flawless maneuver in the air, swooping easily to catch the snitch.

He was quite good. He'd almost dare to say he could rival Harry, except that Reggie would never just "go" for it. He was just too cautious—never willing to risk it all.

But then, Reggie wasn't a Gryffindor.

The Slytherin team was just drilling its Chasers on quick passes when a freak thunderstorm broke out. Salem quickly pocketed the little book. It was funny how protective he was becoming of the little thing.

Flint would have ordered the team to stay if there hadn't been lightning. The team quickly scrambled out of the downpour and in a matter of minutes the stadium was virtually empty save one player.

"Hey!" Salem called to the one lone broomstick rider. "Reggie!"

The younger Black glanced down from his vantage point in the air.

"Oi Reggie! Come on down 'fore you get electrocuted!" As if to emphasize his point a great fork of lightning streaked through the sky.

The figure slumped and reluctantly made his way back toward the ground.

"The weather's not that bad," Regulus groused as he touched ground. "We've played in worse."

"Whatever. Come on, you've still got a report for Slughorn's class right?"

Regulus groaned and made as if to mount the broomstick again. Salem grinned and caught the collar of the other boy's robes.

"Now, now. Running is not going to save you from the test next week. And you are getting better."

Regulus scoffed, "Hardly."

Salem shrugged. "You almost passed that last quiz."

Regulus stared at him in disbelief.

"Come on, and I'll help you study."

"I'm better at Charms."

"Oi, you're better at everything save Potions. Hell, I'd say you're better at breathing underwater."

Regulus laughed, "That's a hunch nearly worth testing."

"You mean if it gets you out of the test."

"I'd certainly have a grand time explaining it to Madam Pomfrey."

Both boys chuckled and began to make their way out of the stadium.

Salem snuck a glance towards his little brother, who was unfastening his Quidditch gloves.

Regulus was surprisingly good-natured; a fact that went against his Slytherin image and Salem's memories. It just kept catching him off-guard. After all, the little brother he knew denounced him—had gone so far as to tell him there was no one in the world he hated more.

They were approaching the path back to the castle when something caught Salem's eye.

He stopped and glanced in time to see a figure in black creeping about the edge of the forest.

"Reg," he whispered urgently.

"Hmm?"

Salem gestured to the enigmatic figure. Regulus's eyes widened at the sight.

"Come on, let's follow," Salem murmured—already returning to what Lily had once deemed "Auror Mode."

"Are you certain?"

"Hurry up, we're going to lose him!"

Both boys dashed as quickly and quietly as they could after the dark-robed person. It was rough terrain to sprint in—the ground was swiftly turning to mud that tried to swallow their feet and weigh down the edges of their robes.

Still Salem, endowed with a multitude of previous adventures, knew how to navigate this area even in the worst weather. It was a merit to his Marauder past. Regulus wasn't so fortunate and he was soon tailing farther and farther behind Salem.

Salem, the faster of the two boys, was now catching up to the mysterious stranger, he was less than ten meters now and-and the bloke just slipped into the Forbidden Forest. Great.

Salem halted before the dark woods. Just a few beats later, Regulus skidded to a stop behind him.

"Wait –huff- what are you doing? He entered –huff- here—I thought we were following," Regulus panted.

The adventurous part of Salem wanted to forge on. But this wasn't James next to him—robust and strong and dependable. This was Reggie—small and thin and a little quivery already from the cold—his Quidditch robes were hanging off him.

Salem gazed into the dark forest. He knew what sort of dangers lurked there. He glanced back at Regulus, pale and wide-eyed and-and-

"No, it's fine. Let's head back to the castle." Salem swallowed his disappointment. He was sure that stranger was important.

"But he's getting away," Regulus pointed out. "We could still-"

"Next time."

Regulus looked doubtful but didn't argue as they sloshed their way back to the castle.

Salem tried to push his anger down, but could quite manage. If Reggie wasn't so weak they could have gone on after the intruder.

He dealt a swift glare out of the corner of his eye toward his brother—who completely missed it.

Regulus was currently trying, without success, to shake his wet hair out of his face—but the wind kept blowing it right back.

Finally, Regulus groaned with disgust and crossed his arms to sulk. Unfortunately, this action wasn't wise as he was still holding his broom—and then proceeded to nearly trip over it.

He caught Salem's eye and gave an exasperated smile.

And he looked so painfully young that Salem felt sick with himself for being angry. Regulus just wasn't James. And that was always the problem wasn't it?

They were just passing one of the inner courtyards when some whooping yells caught their attention.

They shared a glance and slowly crept over to the source of the noise.

Regulus peaked around the stone wall and stiffened in anger.

"The Marauders—they're a band of never-do-well prats that live to make life miserable for us Slytherins," he explained his fellow, supposedly "new" Slytherin, friend. "Great, and their right in front of the Entrance." He sighed. "We're going to have to go back. Don't worry, I know some other ways into the castle."

Salem looked at him in surprise. Sure, he knew that in the past he and Reggie seldom met up. But he didn't know his little brother actively tried to avoid him. Though, if he thought about it he couldn't really blame him. But he was too optimistic to believe it.

"Aw, come on, I'm sure that if you just walked on by nothing would happen. I mean you haven't done anything."

Regulus gave a mirthless laugh. "My br-those jerks don't care about innocence. They figure that just being sorted into Slytherin is enough of a crime. You'll find that most of the school shares that sentiment as well."

The whooping had just turned into a jeering, and a familiar cold voice cut through the air.

"Behaving like juvenile delinquents as usual. Eh, Potter?"

"Nosing about as usual, Snivellus?"

"Come now, Prongs. It's not like he can help it. It's a pretty big nose."

Regulus sighed as he peaked around the corner again. "Snape, you fool. Sometimes you just ask for it. Alright. Salem, go around to the fourth tower. The sixth brick on the bottom pushes in. It'll reveal a stairway, climb it and you'll come out on the fourth floor." He then made to walk towards the fray.

Salem caught his arm. "But I thought you-"

Regulus swallowed determinedly. "Slytherins stand together."

Salem glanced at him in disbelief.

"Maybe if there are two targets Snape won't get mauled so badly." Regulus paused seeing that he wasn't having success in convincing his comrade, "Look, he's not my favorite person in the world, but he is rather useful. And if he dies, he'll be taking my Potions grade with him. He's the only reason I've managed to pass the Exams these last three years."

He then shook off his friend's restraining arm, straightened his spine, and strode off to meet the enemy.

Snape was now fully encircled by all four marauders. The greasy git didn't stand a chance.

"Four on one," Regulus drawled loudly, "how fair."

Potter glanced at the newcomer and grinned nastily, "Well lookie there, Pads. Little Reggie seems to want some attention. Maybe you should give him some love."

Sirius cracked his knuckles. "Maybe I should."

Lupin shook his head in exasperation and quietly withdrew to act as the look-out. He sighed; all he had wanted to do today was finish his book.

Regulus glared at his older brother and carefully retrieved his wand.

The elder Black watched with his own wand at the ready. "Get outta here, Regulus."

"No."

"I'm not joking, Regulus. I am not in the mood for you today, especially not after that stunt today. Your team knew Gryffindor had the Quidditch Stadium booked."

"Take it up with Slughorn."

"You little jerk, I bet you're the one that set them up to it. Where the hell is your sense of respect?"

"I don't think you're one to talk about honor."

"Fine. But don't go crying to mummy, because big bad Sirius put you in your place."

Regulus sneered, "As if you're worth mentioning."

His brother's eyes flashed and a spell was soon hurtling his way. Regulus winced as the hex slammed into him, throwing him off the walkway and into the muddy landscape.

Still, at least he hadn't dropped his wand and even more luckily—his brother had turned his back—considering him dealt with and was now helping Potter torment Snape again.

Regulus smirked; he could use this to his advantage. He crawled carefully back onto the pavement and took aim. Ah, the joys of being a Slytherin—no one expected you to play fair anyway.

"Tarantallegra!"

Sirius let out a yelp as his legs began dancing spastically. Noticing the perpetrator, he began his advance—a curious blend between river dancing and limping.

Regulus smiled. He knew he was doomed but…he'd make the most of it. Sirius might be his superior in magical spell-casting, but…Regulus' grin stretched as left hand scooped up a healthy chunk of mud—no one came out unscathed in a fight with Regulus Arcturus Black.

An inarticulate yell of rage left the elder Black as a ball of mud splattered against his chest. "You-you you little-Erg-Expelliarmus!"

Again, Regulus was slammed backward skidding deep into the mud, his wand making an arc and landing in his older brother's hand. Regulus sighed as he watched Sirius make an abrupt turn and head back toward the main fight.

Regulus groaned as he stood. Blech, he was covered in mud. Alas, the end of another school uniform courtesy of the Marauders.

Sirius stopped by Pettigrew who was rubbing his head—apparently thwarted by the Sixth Year Slytherin.

"What's the matter, Potter, can't take me on by yourself?" Snape sneered sending a powerful hex at his rival.

Furious, James cast an equally potent Backlash-Jinx. Snape barely dodged and the spell went soaring towards Regulus who hit the deck just in time. The spell then ricocheted off the railing across the courtyard against the fountain and towards the castle.

Several moments later, the undeniable sound of shattered glass emanated. Great, broken windows—that was worth at least a week of Detention.

"I blame you," Regulus informed the hazel eyed boy from his place on the ground. James glared at the younger Black.

"No one asked you, imp."

"You guys. You guys!" Lupin called from his post at the corner "Filch is coming! You guys-"

For a moment no one moved as Potter and Snape continued glaring at one another—hatred burning deep in their eyes.

The tense silence was finally broken by a bout of sniffles. Snape was the first to break eye contact. He looked around in surprise. "Regulus, have you a cold? Already?"

The younger Slytherin grumbled something about "damn faulty immune system" and tried to discreetly wipe his nose with a wet handkerchief.

"Reg, catch!" his brother called throwing his wand before making a hasty departure with his friends.

Snape limped over and offered a hand. "You should have taken out Black."

"How? I did what I could."

"I think you should have dropped the wand and gone for blood."

"He'd cream me. Even without magic. He weighs twice as much!"

Snape snickered and wiped his split lip with the back of his hand.

"Oh dear, Salem looks petrified," Regulus murmured.

"Who?"

Snape looked up, catching sight of a blonde boy. He was just standing there, eyes wide—transfixed.

"That's the transfer student, Rostings. Half-blood. Fourth-year, like me" Regulus explained as he straightened his robes. "He's still learning the ropes. I tried to tell him that the Marauders were a nasty lot, but he doubted me. Now he's witnessed it first hand."

Snape nodded as he scrutinized his new housemate.

"Oi Salem," Regulus grinned cheerfully for someone smothered in mud. "Entertaining, was it?"

Salem just stared. Regulus hadn't done anything. He'd been with him all day. Flint never made a mention of having booted out another team. Regulus hadn't done anything.

Innocent. And his younger self attacked him anyway. That hadn't been defending himself from a malicious Slytherin. That had been bullying.

"Salem." Regulus tapped his shoulder.

His friend started. "Are you-"

"This is Severus Snape. Half-blood. Son of Eileen Prince, he's a fifth year good with serums and not too shabby with spell work. As you may have noticed."

"Pleased to make your acquaintance," Snape intoned with an air of distaste. Here they'd been in a scuffle and the boy had just stood there. What sort of Slytherin was he? Not coming to the aid of his housemates?

"Rostings," Salem answered shortly.

"Haven't seen you for nearly a month, Snape. Just what have you been up to?" Regulus inquired politely, pretending to ignore the cold exchange.

The greasy haired kid just smiled, not answering anything.

Salem would be willing to bet his life it had something to do with that intruder from earlier.

His eyes narrowed, he'd have to watch him closely. What was that muggle saying? Keep your friends close and your enemies closer? Well then, this would work out perfectly. How better to study his enemy then from his own lair. Yes, staying in the Slytherin dormitory would be very interesting.

Salem paused mid-scrawl on the scroll he was finishing for Charms.

"I want to mention that one story. You know that story that you can't stop reading—it lasts forever?"

"Hmmm, a story 'never-ending' sounds sort of like my brother's mouth..."

Salem barely, barely bit back his retort and decided that this was an ideal moment to pry.

"Oh," he feigned shock. "You've a brother. That's right. Second son."

Regulus looked up in surprise and for a moment was at a complete loss of what to say. "Er, yes. I've a brother...sort of."

"Sort of? How the hell do you have a 'sort of' brother?"

"Let's just say we get on as well as most brothers do. Which is to say: dismally."

"So," Salem drawled "Just who is this brother of yours? Have I seen him be-"

"I really need to finish studying these ingredients," Regulus snapped.

"Maybe you guys just need to talk it out."

"Salem, I'm not going to lie to you. I have a better chance of becoming the next Goblin King than getting along with my brother."

"It can't be that bad."

"Oh yes. Oh yes it can and it is. It's…well…it's just…I need to finish this assignment."

Salem sighed. How was he supposed to patch things up between his past self and his brother? He knew his own reasons for arguing, but Reggie's? The cause of his brother's animosity was still a mystery. Sure, the younger would retort with abstractions about honor and principle, but he didn't know Reggie's code of ethics and until he figured it out, the Black brothers would continue feuding.

Regulus sighed as he crumpled yet another tissue.

"Maybe you should see Madam Pomfrey?"

"Maybe," he replied noncommittally.

"She could probably fix you up."

Regulus didn't say anything as he aimed the balled up snot-rag for the waste basket. He smiled. "And he scores."

Salem shook his head. "Hate to admit it, Reg, but you've got pretty good aim for a Seeker. You'll make the Chasers nervous."

"Plenty of practice."

Salem frowned. "You always sick?"

Regulus shrugged. "It's the stress. My nerves make me prone to illness."

"What have you got in your life to be stressed about?"

Regulus gave a grim smile and snickered, "You don't want to know."

"I hear you're rich. You're the family favorite as well as the baby to boot. I bet you're doted on all the time."

Regulus stared at him. "Is that what the populace thinks?"

"Yeah, that's the general consensus."

"Good."

"Why?"

"No one will come nosing in then. Let them think whatever they want."

"What do you mean?"

Regulus studied him for a moment before leaning in conspiratorially. He looked as though he was about to share, before his eyes became veiled. He leaned back, shrugged, and offered a cryptic, "All's not well in Paradise."

"It's not all rosy?"

Regulus tipped his head and laughed mirthlessly (which gained a stern "Shhh!" from Madam Pince). He lowered his voice obligingly, "My life is so far from that fairytale you're hearing—it's not even funny."

"Didn't get that broom you wanted for Christmas?"

"Yes, and we have yet to convert all our toilets to gold lids. Seriously though, you'd cringe if you knew what I bought myself for my birthday last year."

"Why? What?"

The smaller boy just shook his head. "No, you're kind of soft, Salem. I don't think you would appreciate my practicality."

"Try me."

Regulus just kept smiling with that hollow grin. "You'd cringe."

"Tell me!"

The librarian was now openly glaring in their direction.

Salem murmured an apology before leaning across the table.

"Tell me," he whispered urgently.

Regulus leaned back, hands behind his head. "I wonder what my br-what the marauders would think."

"Since when do you care what they think?"

"I don't. Not really."

"Then why bring them up?"

Regulus shrugged. "Well, they are the bane of my existence. And I fully intend to spring my revenge before they graduate and are beyond my grasp. Well, before three of them escape, I'm not entirely convinced that Pettigrew will advance."

"He's a cad," Salem gritted vehemently before he could stop himself. He was already shaking with barely restrained hate. It was so tempting to just hunt the traitor down now and dispatch him.

Regulus nodded sagely. "Oddly enough he is. For a Gryffindor, he's really rather cruel."

Salem glanced at him in surprise.

"He picks on Slytherin first years."

He felt his already low opinion of Peter plummeting. Yes, he remembered the lot of them boasting about various run-ins with Slytherins but...first years?

"I'm not even talking pranks or small humiliations. He's not clever enough for that. He torments first year Slytherins. The Marauders as a whole go after third Years and up with very few exceptions."

"You watch them real closely, don't you?"

"Well of course he does," a cold voice cut in, "Regulus has always been reconnaissance, since first year, if I'm not mistaken."

Regulus greeted Snape politely as he joined their table.

Snape glanced at him surreptitiously before declaring, "You look like hell, Reg. Are you boycotting Pomfrey again?"

"I'm not that sick," Regulus murmured, eyes flashing in mounting irritation.

"Of course," Snape replied flatly and set his book on the table with a resounding thud. "Do you need some help preparing for Potions? I think your class is moving onto sleeping potions, correct?"

"Yes, but it's alright. Salem's been helping me."

Snape lifted an eyebrow in surprise,."Oh." Salem had to swallow a smug smile, it was obvious from the tone that Snape considered himself Reggie's official tutor. Well that was going to change. Snape was a bad influence. One he fully intended to remove from Reggie's life.

"However…"

"Yes?"

"Do you think-maybe if you have some spare time-would you brew me some Pepper-Up Potion?"

"You are avoiding the Hospital Wing, then."

Regulus sighed, "It's that Lupin. See, we normally just ignore each other as House Conduct demands, but lately he keeps trying to strike up conversation…I think he's setting something."

"Paranoid, aren't you?" Salem remarked softly.

"With good reason," Snape argued "Even if Lupin is one of the less instigative ones of the group. He's still a Marauder. They're not to be trusted. Ever. And that's not even considering..."

"Well, that's not a fatalistic statement," Salem snickered.

Regulus shrugged, "Better to err on the safe side. Besides, I'd like Madam Pomfrey to think I can go two weeks without needing to see her. See, we have a bet."

Now that caught Salem's attention. "You bet with faculty members?"

"All the time. McGonagall still owes me a sickle. A couple weeks before you transferred, we had a Crystallization Lesson. She said that a Black couldn't last the duration without breaking something. Proved her wrong. I didn't break something until after class ended."

"Ah, stipulations," Snape smiled.

"Well of course, I live my life by the aid of small print and loopholes."

"Sounds foolproof."

Regulus chuckled before descending into a coughing fit.

Salem watched him with concern. Regulus noticed and waved a dismissive hand as he recovered. "I'll be fine."

The Hogsmeade weekend arrived and Regulus was not fine. He'd lost what little color he had and his voice was fleeing.

"I don't know. Are you sure you should go?" Salem looked over the pathetic form.

Regulus looked at him indignantly, but it didn't give the effect he was going for—if anything he just looked more pitiful.

Even as bundled up as he was, it didn't hide his pasty complexion or the deep circles under his eyes—didn't help the red runny nose either.

"It's not that big a deal. They'll be other trips."

"You've never been so we're going," Regulus announced resolutely marching over to where the other students were massing.

Regulus was coughing and sniffling incessantly as the carriages carried them. Salem looked at him in concern, was it just him or was that cough sounding worse?

When they exited the carriage the conversation changed to careers.

"Just what do you see yourself doing in the future?"

"I don't know. My mum wanted me to be a School Governor or something equally prestigious."

"Well, what do you want to be."

"It doesn't really matter," Regulus shrugged.

"You could be an Auror, or an Author, or have a job at the Ministry. And those are just some jobs you could have in Britain."

"Oh yes, Salem. Deep down, I live with the dream that one day I may be a model advertising muggle 'miracle shampoo' in Australia," Regulus deadpanned.

Salem laughed, "Well, I'm honored you confided in me."

"What about you? What occupation are you seeking?"

"Auror."

"And part-time clown?"

"Possibly."

The boys chuckled as they walked through the village, green banners highlighting the area.

Regulus was about to comment on a few jobs that interested him, when Salem grabbed his arm.

"Come on, let's go."

"Go where?" the young Black questioned.

Salem pointed to an old oak sign reading: O'Riley's Brewery and Bar, there was a dog snoozing beneath it. Salem took that as a good omen.

Reggie resolutely shook his head no. "I'm not going in there. It's an absolute dive. I can tell from here—the smell's enough."

"I know you don't hold much value in holidays. But it's St. Patrick's Day Reg. Don't you want to get the full experience?"

"St. Patrick's Day? Huh, you're right. Well, that does explain why there are shamrocks everywhere. Good thing green is part of my regular ensemble, hmm?"

"We should celebrate. Maybe they'll give you something strong enough to burn out that cold. Let's have some fun!"

"Be my guest."

"It'll be fun."

"Then gooo."

"Fine," Salem snapped and entered the pub alone. Reggie's non-adventurous spirit really weighed on him sometimes. He just didn't do fun. It was really grating. He was starting to wonder if Regulus had made up those pranks he'd shared on the train. It had been about a month, and Reggie had yet to prank anyone.

He swaggered to the bar and rested an elbow against the counter.

"Top of the morning, may I help-'ey no anklebiters allowed," the bartender, a plump Irish man with thinning red hair, frowned at his unwanted customer.

"Allo Riley," Salem grinned.

"Whatever ya want. The answer's no. Seventeen and up."

"Good thing I'm-"

"Listen, boyo, I'm not in a mood to be trifled with. Getcha gone now."

"Come on, be a sport. It's St. Paddy's day," Salem whined.

"And you won't be celebratin' it here."

"I'm not leaving-"

The Irish man smirked. "Oh really?"

Regulus smiled as he watched his friend sail out of the doors.

He was standing outside scratching the owner's German Shepherd behind the ear.

"Hmmm…following your victory toast with a shot of mud?"

"Shut up."

Regulus grinned.

"Do you really want to enter there?" Regulus groaned eyeing the Zonko shop with distaste. "It's just commercial rubbish. Nothing really clever."

"I love joke shops!" his friend insisted dragging him closer.

"Fine."

Salem grinned as the door chimed on their entrance. Ah, the sweet aroma of freshly packaged dungbombs, the smell of mischief. He walked around the shop, reminiscing about the good ol' times.

He watched Regulus out of the corner of his eye. Now, if he could just Regulus to start liking this stuff, maybe he could build a common foundation between the Black brothers of the past.

They were just passing a display advertising exploding yo-yos when they overheard: "I just have to win Evans over."

"With what?"

"You know my irresistible charm," James grinned.

"Since when did you have that?"

"Shut up, Pads."

Regulus slumped over one of the shelves. "Why? Why do they have to be everywhere? Let's please sneak out before they notice us?"

"Reg, you've just as much right to be here as they do."

"I know, but I don't feel like battling for that right today. I fight when I absolutely must, otherwise I prefer to just coast on by."

"Oh you mean you prefer to be passive-aggressive?"

"You make that sound like a bad thing."

Lupin was the first to notice them and he began frantically gesturing for them to go away; even going so far as to mouth, "Please."

Then Sirius caught sight of them. "Itching for Round 2, hmm Reg?"

"We're just browsing the store, Sirius. It's not like you own it, so step aside."

"Oho, you're going to make me?"

"I might."

Sirius crossed his arms in challenge. He scrutinized the miserable form before him. "Just what are you planning to do? Ooze on me?"

"That idea has some merit. Biological warfare is a favorite of mine."

Peter edged forward a little skittishly. "Aww, what's the matter? Does wittle Weggie have a cold? Does his-his" He looked at his friends for support but they hadn't reacted, swallowed, and continued resignedly, "-Mummy need to make him all better?"

Salem's eyes twitched. God. Evans hadn't been exaggerating. They were jerks. Regulus wasn't doing anything other than being there breathing. He felt a memory stirring. 'Well it's more the fact he exists...' Back then he'd laughed with James, but now…

"Well Weggie?" Peter goaded determinedly as he moved forward.

Regulus said nothing and made to step back. But the other kid kept coming.

"Well Re-gu-lus," he enunciated, poking the kid hard with each syllable. "Is some-"

That was the last straw for Salem, and his fist became acquainted with Peter's gut. The chubby kid's eyes bulged as he spluttered for breath. He didn't get it, because the blonde Slytherin began savagely beating him. Years of pent-up loathing were being released.

"Hey!" Sirius yelled beginning to charge the blonde kid. How dare he hurt his friend?! He didn't make it far before a certain younger brother leapt onto his back.

Regulus screwed his eyes tight and held on for dear life. Who knew he was going to die so very young? He hoped Salem appreciated his sacrifice.

It took Sirius longer than he expected to pry his brother's wiry arms off his neck and even longer to disconnect the kid from his clothes. God, he was like Devil's Snare!

Sirius finally managed to hurl the his brother off. Regulus (used to being a victim) used the momentum to roll into standing. This was normally the part where he ran but…he glanced at Salem. The kid was still beating on Peter, even though Potter had him in a headlock.

Regulus swallowed. He couldn't just leave without his housemate. And so…that left him contending with his brother.

Sirius glared. That little brat! It looked like older brother was going to have a dish out a well-earned beating. He was about to pop him one when the younger Black began hacking loudly—finally becoming so short of breath he had to kneel.

Sirius gradually relaxed as it became clear his brother wasn't going to be retaliating. He stood awkwardly to the side and shifted uncomfortably when the coughing lasted more than a minute.

Sirius leaned over him in surprise. "You dying of the plague, Reg? Black Death?"

Regulus glowered up at him. "Possibly." He started to rise before another fit caught him and he was forced back to his knees.

He felt a hard pat to his back and noticed his brother kneeling next to him. "Sheesh, Reg, breathe."

A loud yell that sounded like Potter, caught their attention and Sirius dashed away—eager to help his best mate.

Regulus slowly rose using the shelves to balance—a wave of dizziness swept over him and he had to fight to remain standing.

Regulus inched his way forwards to watch the escalating skirmish.

The fight didn't end until the four boys (who'd been creeping towards the front of the store as the fight went on) finally crashed over the counter—causing the cash register to fall and gold coins to shower the floor.

One irritable shop owner rant later, all six boys found themselves banned from the store for the next two trips.

"Thanks a lot, Regulus," Sirius growled.

"Anytime," his younger brother answered distractedly, wiping a hand across his sweaty brow. Perfect, he was getting a fever and his chest felt tight.

The Marauders stalked off leaving the two Slytherins to stand in the drizzle.

"You happy?" Regulus snapped. "Did you want a confrontation?"

"Yes." Salem nodded, his eyes bright—his body still trembling with adrenaline.

Regulus sighed feeling a headache coming on. "Let's just go and wait at the station for the coaches."

Salem began to protest when Regulus glared and hissed, "I've had enough excitement for one day. My nose is still straight and I intend to keep it that way."

With that he swept away, said nose held high.

Salem was starting to worry. It'd been a couple weeks now and Regulus' health was continuing its decline. He was starting to disappear throughout the day. He could only hope he was visiting Pomfrey. Every time he asked, Regulus deflected his concern with a change in topic.

Not to mention how the boy had started getting letters all this week. He might've hinted at a secret admirer except, Reg would go so pale after reading one. And for the rest of the day would stare hollowly out of windows.

Was he getting threats or something? He wanted Regulus to come out and tell him what was wrong, but he kept insisting that everything was fine. Yeah, right.

Reg had just read another one. He tucked the letter in his robes, glanced at his plate, and grimaced.

"What's the matter?"

"Huh? No, nothing. We should leave for Divination now if we want a good spot."

Salem nodded watching him suspiciously. It was so tempting to just tackle him, take the letter and find out what the hell was going on. But Regulus wasn't a marauder—he wouldn't welcome the intrusion of privacy no matter how well-intentioned his motives were.

Salem sighed as he took in the Divination classroom. All the windows were blocked with gauzy fabrics and every chair had a beaded pillow. The tables were dressed in dark satin purple slips—their centers adorned with a sing crystal ball.

The room had that muggle fortune teller feel—it reminded him of that time he and James went to the muggle circus. James had dragged him off to the psychic's tent for palm readings. James was desperate to hear that Evans was his one true love.

"I don't know how you stomach this class," Salem griped.

Regulus kicked him in the shin. Salem glared.

"This is one of my favorite classes," the smaller boy hissed.

"'Cause you can just lie your way through it?" Salem inquired.

Regulus frowned. "Not everyone has to lie."

The other boy laughed, "What? You a fortune teller Reg?"

Regulus shrugged a shoulder and set his book Exploring the Super Natural-A Spiritual Guide by Sila Pharrows next to the glass globe.

Salem glanced at it and swore. "I left that book at the library yesterday." He groaned, raking a hand through his curls. "Will you tell the professor where I went?"

"It's not a problem, I'll get it," Regulus volunteered.

"No, I can-"

"It's fine. I could use the walk. My head's a little…off today."

"Maybe you should-"

"I'll return shortly."

Regulus sighed as he climbed down the ladder that led to the tower, fighting a wave of vertigo.

He stopped and rested against a wall. He was getting a migraine; he could feel it creeping in and knew from experience, it was best not to dwell on it. He only had two more classes to endure, he just had to last until then. He could crash later.

He took off with a brisk stride, trying to ignore how his lungs just didn't seem to be filling as swiftly as he needed them to.

His head was starting to pound now and his ears were filling with a buzzing sound.

He had to hurry down to the library and grab Salem's book fast, if he planned on getting back on time. Though, if he was late by a few minutes, it wouldn't be too big a travesty. He smiled to himself, one of the perks of being Professor Mistereo's favorite.

It was funny. He was running full pace and he didn't seem to be getting anywhere. He was just reaching the staircase now.

He kept telling himself it was just a little bit further, but it wasn't working. And you knew things weren't looking too good when you couldn't even lie to yourself. And if he couldn't do that, how was he going to lie to others?

God, he was moving so slow, like he was made out of lead. And he was roasting. Weird. Salem kept adamantly vowing it was freezing.

His head was buzzing again and he was losing focus. That wasn't good. The stairs were steep—all the more reason to hold onto the—huh, the railing just sort of disappeared. In fact, everything was disappearing like magic or something. Strange. The ground had faded to black…and the ceiling…and the edges of his world and huh, the edges were closing in.

And then he knew no more, swallowed in the dark sea of unconsciousness.

Damn. He was running late again. McGonagall was going to have his head. She'd already made clear what she thought of his tardies—knowing her she'd probably drive the message home with an even worse detention—like scrubbing toilets or something.

He skidded into the Entrance Hall. Great. He knew he was running late when the staircases were barren. He began sprinting up the stairs two at a time. He checked his watch. If he kept this up, he just might make it.

First floor, Second Floor, Third Floor—he was going to make it. He checked his watch again. Yes! He was going to make it! He was going to—WHAM!

One hard hit and a jumble of limbs later, Sirius landed back on the Second Floor platform.

Sirius released a string of swear words before cracking an eye and seeing the cause for his untimely tumble.

"Regulus, you stupid little prat. What the hell are you pulling?" he hissed at his brother who lay atop of him. But no retort greeted him.

"Bloody perfect. You've made me late!" Silence. Sirius frowned. Something wasn't right.

"Regulus? Reg? Regulus?" He shook the slight form. No response. "Regulus! This isn't funny. Quit it. Reg?"

He carefully propped himself up on one elbow and used his other hand to shake his brother. Not even a groan. He tapped Reggie's cheek. Nothing.

Messing with him. He had to be. Trying to push down his mounting panic, he gently leaned his brother's head back and carefully pulled an eyelid—all white. Nope. Reggie wasn't acting. He wasn't stiff, so he hadn't just been stunned by some passing git. No, he was limp and feverish and he'd just…passed out.

"Alright. Alright." Sirius swallowed nervously. His little brother was unconscious and he had no idea why. So…so…the first order of business was to-to find someone who would know.

The Infirmary! Right! Right! That's where he'd go. He quickly gathered his little brother up and went racing to the Hospital Wing.

"Poppy!" he called "Poppy! Emergency! It's Regulus—he was walking or well—he was actually coming downstairs and well he just sort of fell on me—see, because I was climbing up the stairs, and well we-we crashed and I-I'm pretty sure I took the worst of it, but he's not waking up. And he's all pale and not moving and I-I-"

"Mr. Black, what on earth are you-" She caught sight of his cargo. "Over here. Lay him down carefully."

Madam Pomfrey led Sirius over to an empty bed. She swiftly checked the younger Black's vitals before sighing.

"Is that a bad sigh? A sigh of doom or something? Is he-"

"He'll be fine, Mr. Black. He just fainted again. I'm sure he'll recover within the hour. If you wish, I'll send word when he awakens. But for now, you should return to your classes. He's in good care, I assure you."

"Again," Sirius stated. "Again? What do you mean again? He's fainted before?"

Now it was Madam Pomfrey's turn to look surprised. "Mr. Black, your brother has always been rather…delicate. He's suffered increasing fainting spells since his third year."

"He fainted?" James snickered, careful to keep his voice low lest he attract their Transfiguration teacher's ire.

"Yeah," Sirius nodded.

Peter was busy making fainting motions until Sirius finally smacked him hard in the gut.

"But what gets me, is that Poppy looked at me like I was the one out of the loop. Like him just passing out is normal."

"It is normal Sirius. Regulus is in the hospital wing all the time."

"What?" Sirius whipped around to face Remus, who was diligently taking down notes.

Sirius jerked Remus's quill out of his hand. "What are you going on about?"

Remus shrugged before wrestling his quill back. "I see him there a lot."

"What-why didn't you say anything before?" Sirius demanded.

"You didn't want to hear it."

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