Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter.

AN: Thank you soooo much for your reviews and continued interest! XD In the update that nobody saw coming, Ta Da! And over 400 alerts were launched proving that this story is NOT DEAD and, yes, I AM still alive. Working hard to finish up strong and earn my BA. One. Semester. Left. XD HUZZAH! (BTW, hopefully, I can find some time this year to do a sweep through all of my old chaps and clean them up a bit. I'm not aiming for grammatical perfection, but there are more than a few places where I've reread bits and went LOL.) Meanwhile, to address one little guest reviewer who commented recently just because it tickled me so much. Thank you for your adorable suggestion, "Merlin's Pants"...which is super Grandma cute but just has no place here. P.S. I strongly suspect that this fic's too intense for your friend. And it's better for them to figure that out riiight at the start, linguistically, then to get midway through and become traumatized by visceral imagery and dark concepts. Because, trust me, this'll be getting darker before we get to the end...I don't mean it as a threat but...as a helpful hint (cuz there are plenty of fantastic fluffier dramas on this site). Aaand that admission has probably gotten some of the rest of you readers...super excited. You bloodthirsty heathens! XD And now onwards! I hope you enjoy this chap! It's a Sirius-centric one! And you've certainly waited long enough for it!

Chapter 14: The Dreaded

Sirius sighed. Since he'd begun living with the Potters, there hadn't been a day where he hadn't seen, spoken, or written James. His absence now pressed heavily on him. James had always been his lifeline out of the hellish Grimmauld Place and now all its shadows were creeping forward—ready to drag him back.

This early in the morning, the cafeteria was sparse; only a few old wizards were eating oatmeal while Med-witches gabbed and sipped their coffee while on break.

Sirius had managed half a banana before his stomach flopped—if he kept Regulus's seer abilities a secret, was it a betrayal of James? An admittance that, regardless of Regulus's many transgressions into the messy ideals of blood supremacy, he still had a sacred spot in Sirius's psyche?

Sirius then spent the next ten minutes mashing the rest of the banana with a fork into the tray.

He was miserable sitting there—he needed a change of clothes, he needed a shower, he needed James to owl him and let him explain what he could.

He needed sleep.

He pushed his tray away. He folded his arms on the table and rested his head on them.

He drifted off into a restless doze where he was twelve and back in Grimmauld Place playing hide and seek with Regulus as they were wont to do when their parents went out. And there were a million other things he could be doing: summer homework, writing his friends, experimenting with his wand work.

He didn't want to be there, let alone stuck playing a stupid kiddie game, but his brother didn't sense his reluctance and his laughter bounced from all the corners and made him easy to find.

The numpty…

The game was giving way to a round of chase as he followed his brother's voice and he was getting closer and closer! When all the candles went out and they were plunged into darkness. By the time he relit them with his wand, his brother was gone.

And the still, heavy silence that followed where his voice didn't even echo as he called his brother's name sent chills up his spine because it set him to wondering if his brother had ever been there at all. Or...as nonsensical as it seemed...that the house itself had swallowed him somehow.

"Mr. Black," McGonagall addressed him sharply while setting a hand on his shoulder.

He nearly fell out of his seat in startlement.

"Er," he stammered before blurting out. "Yes, yes, they think he'll be alright."

Damn, it was awkward seeing her outside of Hogwarts. And if it was odd seeing her at Hogsmeade, it was downright uncomfortable to see her here. He wondered what he'd do if he ever witnessed her shopping at a grocery store.

McGonagall released her hold on him and, perhaps he imagined it, but her shoulders and expression relaxed a bit. "Good. Here is your trunk."

He blinked, noticing it floating a few paces behind her. As it passed her and settled by his feet, he noted that she seemed careful not to touch it. Did his mates hex it or something?

Great.

Good to know James was holding a grudge. Real mature.

McGonagall looked around the cafeteria for a moment before refocusing on him. "Now, is Mrs. Black arriving soon?"

Sirius stared...so...no one knew about...that...yet. "They're…" he hesitated and then forged on, "they're treating her also."

One severe eyebrow rose upon hearing this new gem of information. "I see."

Then both of her brows furrowed.

He noticed that she was carrying several documents with her and though he could only catch an R as her thumb was purposely covering the name of the person in question, he knew instantly it was about his brother and likely needed a signature.

"Errr."

No, no, surely his parents had someone listed somewhere just in case as a backup.

Sirius, himself, had a multitude of people to contact in case of emergency: the Potters, first and foremost, his Uncle Alphard, the Lupins, the Pettigrews, and even his parents (in the case of some sort of apocalypse resulting in them being the last semi-capable adults left in the land).

Did Regulus really only have their parents listed? Dad was off on holiday with the Dementors and Mum needed a padded room.

But then...he frowned...wait…

Where would he go after being discharged? The Hogwarts term would have ended. He couldn't (legally) live in Grimmauld Place without either parent. Too young to work, an empty Gringotts vault, scuffed up shoes and fraying robes…

Where would he go? Where could he go?

The idea of him stuck in Black Moor, with Cygnus and Druella, was dreadful. Sure, Cygnus liked Regulus well enough, but the man was aggressive when sober, let alone when he got sloshed which, judging from the dinner parties Sirius remembered, was often. Druella was always a harpy. There'd be no pleasing her and she'd detest playing nursemaid for his recovering brother. Arguably, she might have had even less maternal instinct than their own mum.

Soon Narcissa would be a newlywed, which could be all shades of awkward if Regulus was a ward at Malfoy Manor. Assuming the Malfoys felt charitable and, if they did, they'd make Regulus feel beholden to them...forever.

Aunt Lucretia and Ignatius were never that fond of company period, preferring to send gifts through the post, rather than interact with their family members at celebrations...if they even bothered to show up...which was rare.

Sirius would die before he saw his brother taken hostage by the Lestrange Household.

McGonagall cleared her throat and Sirius's head snapped up to face her again.

"I will administer the exams to both of you in two weeks' time. If he requires a longer recovery, let me know. Decide on a," she paused and Sirius almost heard the word 'neutral,' "location and owl me as soon as possible. I will also be accompanied by a Ministry Official who will hold your Apparition Exam, Mr. Black. Assuming of course, that you still-"

"Yes. Yes, of course, to...to all of that. Reg and I will mete something out. Do-Do you need me to hold onto those?" he asked, nodding at the papers in her hand. "Or...or do I need to sign something? I'm seventeen t-technically even if-if I haven't graduated yet s-so I-I think I should be able to-"

"Thank you, Mr. Black, but that will not be necessary."

Necessary. That was the sum of it. He wanted...no needed to be necessary. And wasn't.

Sirius trudged along the hallway, intending to revisit Regulus after McGonagall left.

His dream earlier had him rattled.

Just because he'd wanted a life of his own...different than his brother's...and their parents'...didn't mean he wanted that life...that brother to just...disappear...

Maybe he ought to do a little reading up on Divination? Dreams were a part of that field, right? Maybe it could even...break the ice a little. Letting Regulus be the know-it-all expert educating him for a change.

Would that be so terrible? To let Regulus have his due?

There turned out to be a note from James in his trunk, telling him that James had alerted the Potters and they'd come today. Sirius scanned the piece of a parchment—several inches torn from an old assignment about hinkypunks.

Not bothering to use fresh parchment was a sign James was still frustrated with him but...he wasn't shut out.

It sent a wave of relief through him.

Before the day was over; he'd likely be facing down a large portion of the Black Family. Just the thought of it had his heart pounding, and he felt a strong desire to have James at his back. And if not his best mate, than the Potters, who may as well have been family. Hell, they were distant cousins and a welcome substitute—they treated him like a son...how a son ought to be treated...by parents who weren't insane.

He flinched as he thought of his mother languishing on a hospitable bed completely delusional. All those jokes he'd cracked about her...didn't seem quite so amusing now…

And his brother had been trapped in Grimmauld with her...like that…

No wonder he was...messed up…

There, Sirius, part of the mystery on why your brother changed so much is solved!

Lost his older brother.

Lost his father.

Lost his mother.

About to lose his house.

Gained a new, dangerous power.

Check, check, check, check, and check!

All the means to become dangerously unstable and emotionally disturbed!

That conspiracy web was probably the most constructive thing he could do with his time.

Otherwise, he'd probably be caught lamenting how everything in his life just…

Fell…

Apart…

And he thought of the gift Regulus had given him and the holes in that constellation.

Of crystals that didn't shine or rise to the occasion.

It made him think of stars falling...and the dark sky that would make...

Of a darkness that separated them like Sirius's dream…

And then he was gone.

Sirius laughed a little in despair and ran a hand through his hair—tugging the fingers through a few knots. There wasn't a great deal of accomplishment in realizing all that though.

Writing answers to exam questions on theoretical means of solving grand issues seemed so...clean and quaint. How else could the Goblin's Wars have been resolved? He could answer that within two feet of parchment. What potions worked best on some imaginary patient that had been attacked with a Confringo spell? No problem at all. And if his argument was convincing, though not wholly correct, it would just be a few points off. Even if in real life, such a patient would've died.

A bezoar…

They'd had to give his brother a bezoar…

And he'd known his brother was ill for a while, but hadn't thought...he'd need a bezoar.

And that only solved part one of his many problems…

And Sirius didn't know what to do about the rest.

He wished the Potters could hurry up and get here.

It felt like he was headed into an ambush. If he could just be patient and wait for them to show up…maybe his head wouldn't feel like it was about to explode.

Mr. Potter was a retiring Auror and a full time inventor; he was innovative and knowledgeable. Maybe he'd know what to do about...everything; the murder attempt, the conspiracy web of notes, Reggie's powers.

He dragged his trunk along and was approaching Regulus's room when he heard the dreaded sound of high heels again and knew Narcissa was near.

"I thought you were going to meet me in Reggie's room," Narcissa snapped. Bugger, he peered around the corner into one of the waiting rooms and spied Narcissa, Cygnus, and Druella.

"Alphard's made other matters known," Cygnus stated. Before she could inquire, he asked abruptly, "How is Reggie?"

"Relieved," his cousin answered.

"Relieved?" he repeated, perplexed.

"Yes, after he woke up, I informed him that he and his mother had been pois-"

"Cissy?!" Cygnus choked. In shock, he coughed something that sounded suspiciously like "delicate subject" and "to such an excitable lad."

"I pressed him on the matter and…" she paused as if she was struggling with herself on whether to tell more.

"Narcissa?"

In a tone just above a whisper, she went on, "He...admitted he'd been certain they were descending into madness. His words."

"His words," echoed Cygnus faintly.

Sirius's jaw dropped. That was not something a fourteen year old should be resigning himself to. That he and his mother were going crazy...and the only thing he could think of doing was...covering it up as best he could...for as long as he could…

All those seer powers and he couldn't foresee and cobble a better plan than that? And who could he have depended on to help him with that? Sirius's head bowed.

"And now he's cross with me," Cissa murmured.

"Well naturally, he was upset. Delivering such devastating news, don't know what you were thinking," Druella snipped coldly.

"That's not it. He hates it when I press him for-for, well, anything! He was determined to aggravate me after that. Especially when..." She frowned and smoothed her dress as she went over the details in her head before continuing, "You see, the nurse had come in with a meal for him which he found...less than satisfying. I told him he needed to regain his strength and eat it as the Med-witch bade him to. He said the soup was undoubtedly made from the swill in rain gutters and he wanted a sandwich."

Sirius's lips twitched. That sounded like Regulus.

Narcissa huffed, "So I said if he wished to waste away to an even more pathetic state, by all means, refuse the meals. And then he...well he...I know he was just trying to vex me, but he had the audacity to turn to me and say Sirius would get him a sandwich."

Sirius blinked. Hell yes, he could get him a sandwich. He'd get it cleared with the nurse on what he could handle and—Yes. Yes, he could be trusted to get a sandwich. In fact, there was a deli nearby he could vouch for.

"He actually mentioned him by name?" Cygnus murmured, sounding impressed.

"He did."

"Scandalous," Druella breathed. "Regulus knows full well he's not to associate with that filthy-"

"I know. As I've said repeatedly, he was aiming to injure me and nothing more. But Father, Mother, we must make it perfectly clear that-that even in jest, Regulus must do better...Others could misunderstand-"

"Lucretia? Luc-yes. Over here," Cygnus called. "Good. She's arrived. Narcissa, if you please, a silencing charm?"

The family moved closer together.

Sirius slid behind the couch just as the spell touched down.

He watched pairs of feet go by—all of their shoes were extravagant and polished and his brother's ragged ones stayed sharply defined in his mind's eye.

Cygnus took a deep breath and with more formality (putting on a show of authority more for Lucretia's sake than the rest of them) announced, "Thank you all for arriving in this time of...difficulty. I'm pleased to say and you will no doubt be relieved to hear that Regulus and Walburga are expected to make a full recovery."

The clack of his measured step let Sirius know his uncle was pacing even as he went out of view.

"We need to decide how best to contain this incident."

There were murmurs of agreement.

"Alphard has become aware of a series of debts upon their household. We'll need to divide the sum amongst us."

There was a rustling of paper, like leaflets being handed out.

"This is it, divided? Cygnus, we cannot afford this," Druella scoffed. "Not with Cissy's wedding so soon, there's the venue, the decorations, the banquet, the rehearsal dinner, the entertainment. For God's sake her dress, her dowry!"

"Ignatius would never agree to this," Lucretia murmured. "His is a connection only by marriage. I think I could persuade him to cover Regulus's school supplies, but no more than that."

"Walburga is the sentimental type," Druella huffed "I'm certain she's amassed quite a horde of trinkets. Surely, they can liquidate their assets and go through her boudoir-"

"Dearest," Cygnus replied, the word was a razor. "There's little left that won't require...particular customers."

Particular, meaning clients with an affinity for the dark arts.

"Still," Druella persisted—clicking her long nails—a habit of hers when she was disinterested.

"If they've been fiscally careless, I daresay it's their own-"

"Three forks, two spoons, one butterknife and a few miscellaneous-"

"What on earth are you-"

"The silverware. The rest of it has been sold," Cygnus murmured. "Much of the china has also been...liquidated, my dear."

Narcissa promptly ripped the parchment from her mother's grasp—sliding it under her own.

"N-narcissa!?"

She eyed the amount in stony silence before abruptly demanding, "When?"

"Well naturally, there's interest building on the debts-"

"Tonight then," she disapparated with a pop.

A terse silence followed and then Cygnus mentioned, "Also...All of us will likely be questioned. The Aurors informed me that they've located the source. In their own pantry. In the sugar. It was maliciously contaminated."

Lucretia gasped.

Sirius's gray eyes widened. In the sugar?

His mother had a strong sweet tooth that his brother inherited. Mum always liked her tea sweet. And since his brother was never exceedingly fond of tea, he would dump spoonfuls in his cup to make it "tolerable" whenever she forced him to join her for tea time. The two of them were always putting Kreacher to work baking biscuits and other confections.

He felt bile rise up his throat.

"A parting gift from the bloodtraitor, no doubt," Druella sniffed.

Sirius's hackles rose. How dare she!? Yes, they'd all hated each other by the end and he knew damn well how bad that looked in light of this...but he'd never! Never!

His teeth gnashed and he took in a harsh breath.

He'd never do that to them...never to Reggie.

"I'll see to it that he's questioned," Cygnus assured. "In the meantime, we must do what we can to-"

"What a pitiful excuse of a barrier," a cold, baritone voice drawled. "You'd have to be a mudblood or a squib to be unable to overcome it."

Each spine straightened with the man's approach.

Could that actually be…?

Sirius risked another look—shocked that he'd left his estate. He'd sometimes wondered if the man was an agoraphobe.

Pollux Black.

The former head of the Black family and his grandfather. The family's good looks had abandoned him and now he looked perpetually stern and disapproving.

Or perhaps more accurately, his acidic personality had finally burned through and he now better resembled what he actually was inside.

His white hair was slicked back and his goatee was trimmed into sharp angles.

His eyebrows were still jet black. Which somehow leant him an even more sinister look because it drew attention to his eyes...his cold, dark grey eyes. It might seem like the typical eye color of their line, but it wasn't.

Sirius was proud to claim that his were storm grey and, as his admirers were quick to tell him, very charming.

Regulus's were silver grey. He'd tease him when he was younger on how they matched his solid silver cufflinks—how it was a sign that Regulus had expensive tastes.

Pollux's eyes were mortar—tar like and binding.

It should have been amusing watching them all freeze, trapped in that gaze, but...he remembered too well the harshness of it.

Cygnus struggled to sound polite and unfazed, "We were just-"

"I imagine," Pollux began with a deceptively light tone, "you were blathering—and those that weren't, were awaiting an excuse to."

Cygnus didn't rise to the bait. "As you've been made aware, Regulus and Walburga are recovering from an attempt on their lives. In the meanwhile, something needs to be done with Regulus. Alphard has volunteered to tend Walburga in her convalescence, but..."

"But Regulus is no favorite of his and he won't suffer him," Pollux finished.

"I-er-that is-I-"

"Is that so?"

"Well, I think we can all agree," Cygnus put forward hurriedly in a surprising move to deflect his father's disdain at his brother's actions. "Regulus really should not see his mother in such a sad state and-"

"Such compassion," Pollux sneered.

There was never a right answer with that man.

"Well," Cygnus defended half-heartedly, "he never married, you know, and-and it's certain that it won't be a-a simple task."

"On the contrary, the matter is very simple. He's a child."

"He's fourteen. Soon to be fifteen this summer-"

Pollux continued as though his son had said nothing, "There's a certain amount of idiocy to be expected from children. But it can be corrected...at that age at least. Once they're adults...well..."

Sirius swore he could hear Cygnus's teeth grinding.

Yes. Dear, sweet Grandfather Pollux. Gentle soul, engaging, cuddly...like barbed wire.

Lucretia moved forward, her hands wringing the expensive handbag in her plump arms.

Pollux chuckled. "Go on, your excuses—you're so eager to give them, why deny you?"

"My husband and I would gladly cover the expenses of his school supplies," Lucretia offered.

"How carefully phrased. Nothing more. Not the medical bill for this visit, I trust?"

"..."

There was only one worse fate than living with the Lestranges and that was being trapped in Black Manor.

"Be gone. All of you," Pollux dismissed. "You're exhausting me."

"Father-"

"Away!" he hissed.

With a calamity of fearful footsteps—they dispersed.

"Idiots," the old man hissed. "To see my household reduced to this. Shameful."

His feet paused in front of Sirius's hiding place.

One foot lifted and Sirius winced as the couch was pushed away. Physically. As in...without magic.

Strong old goat.

Pollux's lip curled as he stared down at his disowned grandson. "Writhing about in dust and grime. Though, considering your current abode, I suppose it's a comfort. You've grown used to it, haven't you? Well, boy, does the filth remind you of your time with the Potters? Never been known to keep a shipshape house...sad to say it's a common trend with that sort. No house elves. They might be an old family, but they're new money and just don't know how things are meant to be done."

Sirius glowered.

The man chuckled meanly, dug in his pocket, and withdrew a large ornate key.

He dropped it deliberately in front of Sirius and moved away. The metal rang loudly as it hit the floor.

Sirius stared at the tarnished silver thing, and called, "And what is this for?"

"Opening doors, idiot. And those Hogwarts letters of academic achievement your mother sent me...insisting you were bright. Only goes to show how far the school's fallen in its expectations of its students-"

Sirius grabbed it and stood up, face flushing. "I-I know that, I'm asking why?" He turned it over in his hands.

Pollux shrugged and continued along, not even bothering to face him. "I expect you'll make a nuisance of yourself, wanting to know the rate of his recovery, wanting to see him, wanting to know our plans, wanting to know if I'm going to feed him to trolls or whatever it was you thought I had in my dungeon when you were a child."

"I-I," Sirius's face burned; he'd been a little kid, seven or eight, when he'd thought that.

And it was just because he'd had a nightmare. How could he not? The place was packed with creepy taxidermy! Who in their right mind put a stuffed manticore in the hall next to the rooms where his grandchildren slept?!

Pollux paused, looked over his shoulder, and his cold dark eyes narrowed. "As if I'd give you the satisfaction of arriving uninvited."

With that, he stalked away and entered Regulus's room.

Sirius stiffened as he heard Regulus softly greet him, "Hello, Grandfather. I'm honored you came. I suppose you've been told all that's wrong with me."

"As far as I'm concerned, the only thing wrong with you at present is that you're an imbecile. However, you have a better chance than most at outgrowing it."

"How kind of you to think so, Grandfather."

"I know, I must be going soft in my old age."

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