Disclaimer: J.K. Rowling's Universe does not belong to me.

AN: Sorry for the Super Delay, my computer crashed. I'm kinda proud of my little guy. When he gets sick, he gets the plague—not some wimpy cold. XD Oh! For any of you guys who are also reading Sirius Black and the Dark Lord...etc. I'm just about ready to update that one as well as my LOTR fic. I got uber writer's block and then I got inspiration and this comp crash went and ruined everything. But now I'm babbling, so onwards! Thanks for your reviews! I'm glad you guys are interested in this! Enjoy!

Chapter 8: Mischief making

Salem sucked in a breath as he turned the corner, making sure he was approaching the Fat

Lady from her blind side.

This certainly brought back memories of creeping around after his escape from Azkaban.

Tiptoeing through the school as a wanted man was not the same as sneaking about as a marauder. It seemed so strange that something as mundane as a prank could have his heart pounding.

He wasn't a criminal here—Hell, he never was...it was just different.

Everything was different. Since the war, since Regulus becoming a Death Eater, since his death, since Lily and James's death, since Azkaban and Peter...He gritted his teeth.

He had a chance here, to do what...well...he wasn't sure. But he wasn't going to let it slip by! Dumbledore could be real wise about things, he could even be right about the whole time-space-spiral thing. But really what kind of hero would he be if he didn't so much as strive for the blessed "Happily Ever After" thing?

After checking and rechecking to make sure no truant Gryffindors were stalling in the

common room, Regulus made his way over to the entrance.

He opened the portrait and immediately noticed Salem slinking over carefully.

Once he was near enough, Regulus grabbed his friend's robes and dragged him inside. He swiftly shut the portrait and turned to his comrade.

"Hello and welcome to Nid de la Prat," he announced exhuberantly with an elaborate bow.

He glanced up with a mischievous grin that wasn't reciprocated.

Regulus's enthusiasm faltered."You alright? You look a little pale?"

Salem glared. "You dare to ask me that after your little stunt?"

"I told you I'd be fine," the younger Black insisted.

"Do you have any idea what would've happened if you fell?"

"I told you, I know my charms-"

"What if something went wrong? If you hit your head? Or if you panicked? What then?"

Regulus chuckled. "Then I would've gone SPLAT." For emphasis he slammed his hand down on a thin table in the corridor. The impact made several paper organizers rattle.

"That's not funny."

The shorter Slytherin shrugged. "But I didn't and so there's nothing more to fret about. Now come on, we've less than an hour if we want to be back in the dungeons without raising any suspicions."

Salem nodded mechanically and let his brother lead the way.

Salem shifted uncomfortably; they had already wasted ten minutes just wandering about the common room. For someone who planned things so intricately, Regulus certainly got side-tracked pretty easily.

To Salem it was all too familiar and left a queasy feeling of betrayal and failure—of happy times lost too soon.

For Regulus it was a complete novelty, he walked about examining everything like some sort of auditor.

"Spoiled Gryffindors. No drafts at all." He wandered over to the chairs and made a face of disgust as he pinched the cushions "These are soo much more comfortable than ours. That's unfair. Damn Dumbledore always favoring them over the rest of us."

Regulus huffed, "I mean, just look at how much nicer it is up here." He waved a hand about. "They've got landscape paintings. We don't have that. And they've got wood floors. Hmmm…their carpets aren't quite as nice as ours and their lamps are a little too frilly in my opinion. But it's obvious they're the favorites of this school. Can't you feel how much warmer it is up here? No need to wear your robes all the bloody time."

Salem glanced about. There was the spot where he and the marauders had their first prank as group. There was where Evans threw her drink at James during their Third Year on New Year's Eve. There's where he had his first kiss from his first date. There's where she broke up with him when she found out he was also interested in her friend.

There's where James and he made a pact to be real brothers in all but name.

"Salem? Salem? Oi!" A soft punch to the arm brought him back to the present—er the past—or whatever the Hell this was.

"You sure you're alright? I know I'm a walking disease, you haven't caught anything from me, have you?"

He shook his head. "No, I just...want to get out of here."

Regulus frowned. "We've barely been here a few minutes. Where's your backbone Rostings? Where's all that tough talk about all your past pranking? If I knew you were going to be such a pansy, I'd have taken Snape with me today."

Salem glared. God, if there was a way to tick him off, Severus Snape was the champion of it. Just the mention of him was enough to send him ranting. He knew was being goaded, but...damn it all...seeing how Reggie and Snape hung out all the time...he was sure Reg had asked for Snape's help on misadventures...and gotten it...Snape over him! The prankster-extraordinaire! It didn't matter what universe this was, he was not about to let a greasy git like Snape trump him. Not when he was aware of it this time.

Regulus smirked at the other boy's glowering face. For the life of him, he couldn't understand Rosting's obvious, undying fury towards Snape. The boy seldom spoke of it, but you could see it smoldering in his eyes.

It wasn't like Snape even earned it, like he sometimes did, with a careless comment or a hex. In all respects, Snape had been indifferent to him. Regulus pondered over it a moment, maybe Snape reminded him of someone? That was very plausible. After all, no one in the family looked more like Sirius than Regulus. And Bella hated him for it with a vengeance.

He scanned the area, noting a staircase. "Come on, this way."

They climbed quickly passing entrances until-

"Year 6," Regulus read aloud from a plaque above the doorway. "This is it."

The shared a serious nod, not unlike a colonel and his lieutenant and they entered the room.

Regulus wrinkled his nose at the scene. "Hmm. House-elves must save this place for last. Can't say I blame them. Blech! Smells like sweaty socks and looks like a tornado ripped through."

Clothes littered the floor along with candy wrappers and several apple cores, some Quidditch equipment, a floating diagram of what appeared to be a lunar cycle, and various school papers were scattered haphazardly across the floor.

His eyes skimmed over each bed.

"Oh! We have a winner. Only Sirius would have a muggle toy like that," he announced pointing at the hula-girl figurine. "He has no taste whatsoever."

Regulus hopscotched his way over jumping over dirty underwear and what looked like an empty fish bowl.

Once in front of the bed, he shoved the rest of the comforter off it, revealing a great, ornate trunk.

"You know, it's funny, he absolutely despises all things Black, but notice that he kept his trunk. Poor stupid Sirius, I bet he doesn't even remember the trick of these."

At Salem's curious look, he elaborated, "It's a Black Trunk. Which means only Blacks and those of their confidence may open it. He may not recognize us as family any more, but that trunk will."

He confidently strode toward it and knelt. There was a very slim possibility that Sirius had undone the charm or manipulated it somehow. Regulus hesitated for a fraction-of-a-second before unlatching the lock.

Nothing occurred. No bolt of lightning, no painful hex. Regulus flashed his housemate a triumphant grin as he threw the lid open.

"Throw me the satchel." Once the bag was in his hands, Regulus began dumping loads of wrinkled spare robes into it. "Alright, trunk emptied. Now...yep. A dresser."

As they approached it, Regulus halted in his tracks.

"Careful." He threw an arm out to block Salem. "If I know Sirius, he's probably jinxed it somehow."

"Do you even know which drawer is his?"

Regulus frowned, eyes scanning the furniture.

He was silent for a minute or two before stating, "He's probably the first one. He always

liked to be the top drawer whenever we stayed over at Uncle Alphard or Aunt Druella's."

Salem blinked. His brother had his tendencies pegged. Could he say the same?

"Here, hold this." Regulus shoved the bag at his friend, who frowned, but took it all the same.

The younger Black crossed his arms and bowed his head in deep concentration.

"Aw, damn it. Damn. I-I can't remember what hex...He has a favorite hex...It was-It was kelsica-No Krelsiva?

"Look, I really don't think he bothered hexing it," Salem offered.

"I'm not growing tentacles out of my ears, because I didn't decide to err on the side of caution! Now just give me a minute, I'll think of it."

"Reg, it's probably just his socks and shirts and stuff. I don't think he's hell-bent on defending those."

"Yes well, Bella's wardrobe-"

"-well he's not Bella!" he snapped and swiftly jerked the drawer open.

He turned to see his brother bracing himself for some sort of retribution. Two beats later, he opened an eye.

"You done O Brave One?"

The younger Black spluttered for a moment before leaning forward and inspecting the contents.

"Huh, you were right. It is just socks and shirts and stuff. Well, who knew he'd keep normal stuff there. But that's beside the point. Open the satchel."

Salem did as ordered and soon they were scooping armfuls of clothes into the bag.

Salem shook his head—he was pranking himself—man that felt weird.

"So, what exactly are we doing next?" he asked trying to keep the exasperation from his voice. "Dying them pink or some rubbish?"

"Oh, I think I know a few places that would be perfect to display his wardrobe."

"Y-you're going to-"

"O yes I am. I dare to incur his wrath."

With Regulus laughing maniacally, Salem didn't bother withholding a sigh. He had a feeling a pranking war was starting. And though by being on both sides he was assured of winning...he was also guaranteed of losing.

"Tonight!" Regulus grinned, eyes bright with mischief."We do a little decorating."

Great. Just great. Sirius groaned as he slung his satchel over his shoulder and sulked as he left the greenhouse.

He'd spent so much time worrying over his brother that he'd completely screwed up his Herbology project. Not paying attention to the greenhouse's supply labels, he'd fed his plant vinegar instead of water and it instantly shriveled up.

And then there was James and Remus guffawing over his dumb mistake. It was something to be expected of Peter, certainly not him.

During his Charms class this morning, he'd blanked out on the quiz wondering if Flitwick knew about his brother's illness. Reggie was a favorite of his after all.

In Quidditch Practice, he'd put his left shin-guard on backwards three times in a row. All because he kept imagining how awful it'd be if Regulus had one of his fainting spells on the pitch.

And then there was the fact that he'd looked for him at all the mealtimes today and hadn't seen him once. Did that mean he was sick again? Had he fainted? Was he actually in the Hospital Wing right now?

And damn it all, the thing that really aggravated him was how...how could his parents keep something like this from him? Sure, there was that whole disownment—fall out thing—but this was important!

After years of having his Mum breathe down his neck about watching out for his brother, how could she neglect to tell him about this?

Sick of Sirius grousing his concerns, Remus finally asked him why he didn't just go over to the Hospital Wing already?

And he couldn't really answer. It WAS most likely that Regulus was there. And seeing him WOULD make him feel better...at least until his kid brother opened his mouth to insult him. But he just really...didn't want to see Snape there again. He had been making casual inquiries this past week and his fears were being confirmed. They were friends. Great friends it sounded like, since Reggie's first year even.

His little brother best mates with his worst enemy. He could rant for hours about that and he did; his fellow marauders could vouch for it.

For once, he was actually thankful for a cart-load of assignments—great distractions.

Three essays later, his eyes felt like peeled grapes, his hand was cramping, and his neck was unbearably stiff, but his mind was finally blissfully blank.

It was time to just throw on his pajamas, go to bed, and put this day behind him.

He walked over to the dresser, automatically reaching for the top drawer that had been declared his ever since First-Year with James as the second, Remus as the third, and Peter as the bottom one.

He pulled it open, reached in, and nothing. He looked down in shock. His exhausted mind was boggled. What?

He closed his eyes tightly and opened them. Nope. Not a hallucination. He shuffled over to his trunk, undoing the latch and throwing it open. Just quills, parchment, odds and ends etc.

Fatigue and confusion were swiftly replaced by a burst of panic.

Nononononononono, Where were all his clothes?

Then it hit him! And fury set in.

He knew who was responsible! He stomped down the staircase and stalked into the common room, instantly scaring some second-years out of the room. An angry Black was not something to aggravate.

He marched over to where James was finishing up his research assignment for Binns on 12th Century Goblin Politics.

James glanced up and smiled, "Hey Pads, what's-"

"All of my effing clothes are missing."

"Huh?" came the innocent wide-eyed stare.

"James, I swear if you-"

"Whoa whoa, I swear it wasn't me this time," James stated quickly raising both hands in peace.

"Moony-"

"The Hell would I want with your underwear?"

"Peter?"

"I was with you the whole time today!" Peter answered desperately.

"…Right. Well...I need them!" Sirius stood with his arms crossed, brows furrowed, and foot tapping impatiently.

"Sirius, right now?" James groaned.

"Yes, right now!"

"We can't, it's after hours," Remus remarked from behind his book.

"Since when has a curfew restrained the like of us?"

"Since McGonagall said and I quote, 'If I see any of you rule-breaking before the last

Quidditch Match, you'll be helping Filch clean the castle with your toothbrushes.'"

"Yeah," James groaned. "She REALLY wants us to win."

"You know, if we had the MAP we could at least see who's sneaking about."

Peter lowered his head in shame.

"Sirius!" Remus snapped, closing his book."It was bound to get confiscated at some time or other. Let it go."

"Just wear what you're wearing now, tomorrow," James suggested.

"But-but its dirty."

"We could be wandering around all night," James moaned. "Just borrow some of mine."

Sirius was aghast. "You're shorter than me!"

"Since when were you so prissy?" James rolled his eyes.

"Sirius, just wait until morning." Remus sighed. "We'll look before class."

"But Moony!"

"You can't afford to get into too much trouble until after the match."

James sighed and readjusted his glasse. "Hate to say it, but he's right."

"But we could...you know?" He lowered his voice, "Use your cloak."

"But if we're caught…" James trailed off. "Well, we can kiss our Quidditch Cup goodbye."

Sirius scowled. "Fine. But first thing in the morning. Or else."

Remus raised an eyebrow.

Sirius gave a sinister grin. "Need I go on? Come on, friends, Padfoot can do some heinous things to your lives. Nothing like dogspit in your pumpkin juice to start off a hellish day."

Distinctly disgruntled about wearing his rumpled clothes from yesterday, the attention he was attracting was really starting to tick him off.

Everyone seemed to be…snickering at him. And as he hadn't pulled off a prank recently, it wasn't good laughter.

Grumbling about idiots, Sirius pushed his way through the crowd. His friends let him lead the way, staying just out of arm's reach. The sooner Pads got something to eat, the more amiable he'd be.

"Damn it, what the Hell are they on about?" Sirius growled as two girls caught sight of him and burst out laughing.

Remus rolled his eyes and froze. "Eh? Er. Um. Siri. I've found some of your er…clothes." He pointed straight up.

Sirius flushed as he noted his clothing adorning the Great Hall.

He spent the next hour compiling all articles of clothing, after getting chewed out by McGonagall and Filch. He growled as he picked up some socks and stuffed them into his book bag.

Really, people, like I'd willingly subject myself to humiliation?!

Swearing viciously, he took his boxers off a suit of armor's visor.

After suffering through Transfiguration where everyone felt the need to make a joke at his expense, Sirius stalked into the Great Hall for lunch with James close behind him.

His eyes scanned the tables for Remus. On a whim he skimmed the other tables and locked eyes with his brother.

Under normal circumstances each brother would send a glare.

But Regulus wasn't glaring. He wasn't emanating dark fury or cold indifference. No…he was smirking. One corner of his lips lifted mockingly.

James followed his friends gaze. "Oh, he is so guilty."

Without ado, Sirius made a beeline towards the Slytherin table.

Regulus raised an eyebrow at the seething form before him.

"You!" the elder Black hissed.

"Me?" Regulus echoed.

"You," he gritted his teeth, "did this."

Regulus glanced at James. "Potter, why is he here?"

"He just...wants to talk," James offered casually.

"Really?" was the unconvinced reply.

"What?" James asked. "What is so odd about Sirius wanting a little chat with you?"

"Because we don't chat. We harass one another."

"O brotherly love."

Regulus snorted.

"You!"

"Yes, me. We've done this part already."

"My robes are missing," Sirius grit out.

"Really, you're sure there not…up there...somewhere?"

"My Quidditch robes, smartass."

"Well that is unfortunate," Regulus offered with mock concern. "I daresay those are rather

important, aren't they?"

"Where are they, Regulus?"

"I can't say I know." He shrugged glancing at his fingernails with a practiced air of boredom.

Sirius let out an inarticulate roar of anger. "Look here you little-" He grabbed the front of his brother's- robes.

"Hey Pads?"

"Not now"

"I can't imagine why you're upset over something I didn't do." Regulus shrugged carelessly.

"Now you...you...How do you even know those are mine anyway?"

"Well," Regulus sighed, before taking a deep breath, "I heard it from Flint, who heard it from Celia who heard it from Maurice, who overheard Tabitha telling Frida, who heard it from Thomas, who heard it from Derek-" 'Who heard it from me,' he thought smirking.

"Pads?"

"Not now, I-"

"Oi! Bloodtraitor, you're not wanted here."

A mass of Slytherins had been steadily gathering around them, several of whom had their wands at the ready.

James was trying to smile disarmingly at two brutes who were cracking their knuckles menacingly.

"Sorry." Fint smiled nastily as he made his way to the front. "But we can't have you

check-mating our little king there. He may be pretty useless most of the time, but he's still an important piece on the board."

Sirius slowled released his brother, watching for some sort of reaction. But Regulus seemed unaffected. He was no more offended by Flint's comment than his brother's assault.

Either Regulus was the globe's best actor or there was even more wrong with him then just his illness. God, he stepped out for barely more than a year and his brother's life went to Hell.

He threw a quick glance over his shoulder as he and James scuttled away. Regulus smiled and sniggered with his housemates, gesticulating wildly making the Slytherins laugh—at Sirius' expense no doubt.

And he so desperately wanted to be angry with him! First, making him worry and then making a fool out of him. Once he and James were safely seated back at the Gryffindor table, he risked a glare at his brother.

But Regulus wasn't focused on him, someone new had taken over the limelight. He smiled a beat more, laughing at the appropriate times in Lyle's anecdote, his cool gray eyes scanning his fellow Slytherins, making sure each eye was rooted on the sixth year. And then quite abruptly the smile slid off his face and he promptly walked out of the hall.

"You know?" Remus noted from his left. "Now that we've officially taken up Reggie-Watching as a hobby, I can't help but notice that...He doesn't really like them."

"Damn it, how the hell did he get in here?!" Sirius growled, pacing about the common room.

James shrugged and frowned. If a Slytherin could sneak in there undetected, stolen clothes were the least of their worries.

"I know it was him, didn't you see his smug little face? Urghh! I oughta hex him, I oughta hang him by his collar off a chandelier, I oughta—I oughta Urghh!"

Remus just kept scanning the area over and over for some kind of clue. He finally went over to the windows in their dormitory and began systematically opening each one.

"Need some fresh air?" James raised an eyebrow.

Remus ignored him and studied each one until a piece of fabric caught his eyes. There, in the corner, was a small tuft of black material. He carefully extracted the tiny fragment and noted the texture. He nodded grimly.

"I think I know how he did it."

"Really? Do you think one of those stupid first years squealed? 'Cause I think one of them-"

"He climbed in through the window."

"What? That's bonkers. McGonagall installed the no-fly-zone last year. We tested it. How could he get over here?"

"He scaled it, Sirius."

"Whaaat?"

He brought the tiny bit of black fabric over. "See? Robes."

Sirius blinked. "No, no. That's...that's way too dangerous. He'd have to be off his rocker to

do that."

"Well, Pads, ask yourself this question: how mental is your brother?"

Sirius hurried over to the window and glanced down; only years of broomstick riding kept the vertigo at bay.

"No…no he couldn't have." Hell, Sirius didn't think he himself would do it.

By the end of the week almost everything was accounted for.

He smiled tightly as some girls returned his socks giggling uncontrollably. He stuffed the clothing in his bag and glared at James's smirk.

"It's not that funny."

"It's a little funny," James argued goodnaturedly. "I never knew your brother had any sense of humor and, though I'm not fond of the little twerp, I've got to hand it to him. He did a fair job. Not real fancy, so he's got nothing on us, but considering that he probably did it alone and he scaled our tower... He was determined. You've got to admire that."

"Yeah, yeah, he pulled a fast one over me. Congrats to the little princeling," he spat. "But, damn it, where are my Quidditch Robes?"

"Little weasel probably still has them," James answered.

"You know if I don't have them, I won't be able to participate in the match." He ran a hand through his hair, clearly irritated.

"Well then, there's only one thing to do." Jame smiled as he made sure the coast was clear.

He pulled out his invisibility cloak with a mischievous glint in his eye.

"Just you and me, Pads. What say you that we take a little stroll through the dungeons?"

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