It was the day before Sirius would come back for Christmas, and Regulus knew he couldn't postpone reading the third letter much longer. He had to know what it said, even if it was more of the same, so he could criticise it. So Sirius couldn't accuse him of not reading everything and jumping to conclusions.

It was dated to the 20th October, and he hadn't received any more letters after that. Sirius had given up before Regulus had even been able to respond to his letters.

Regulus,

I'm worried sick! I just know there has to be a reason you're not writing back, and I know what the reason is. Please find a way around them. Please let me know if you're okay.

Mother, Father, I hate you. I hate you both. There, I said it. Don't keep us apart, we're brothers for fuck's sake! You can't do such a thing! MONSTERS! That's what you are, MONSTERS! Just you wait till Christmas break...

Sirius

PS: Yes that's a threat

What the bloody fuck? That was the only thing that came to mind reading this letter. Sirius had outdone himself; not only was he proud to be in Gryffindor, he was threatening Mother and Father, calling them monsters of all things. Mother and Father—monsters?! It was laughable.

And yet, he didn't laugh. Because it wasn't funny. The letter made him feel dizzy, as if he'd been spinning for too long. He couldn't shake the feeling that someone was playing with his insides, shaking them. Crawling under his skin and squeezing his lungs shut until there was no air left and he couldn't breathe.

There were black spots forming in his vision and he could think of only one thing: he had to escape. Now.

He went for the window first, and struggled to get it open. The spots were dancing in his vision and he felt as if he could fall down any moment. Better not.

He stumbled through his room, towards the stairs. He held himself against the railing as he slowly descended the stairs, trying his best to keep breathing. In, out. In, out. That's it, nearly there...

His vision cleared a little and he sped down the next staircase, and ran right into something. Someone.

"What is the meaning of this? Running around like a wild dog," Father said, holding him still.

He struggled to find his voice; his throat was dry and his tongue was like sandpaper. He knew Father would be less-than-pleased with the reason he was running around the place—Blacks didn't run unless it was a life-or-death situation, and a letter certainly wasn't.

"Well?"

"I... I needed some air..."

He didn't look at him. There was no need—Father was disappointed, perhaps even angry, at the way he was behaving. And he had every right to. He was acting like a child. The dizzy feeling from before had left him and in its stead was nothing but embarrassment.

Father's hand on his shoulder made him look up. It was gentle, not harsh, and though his face was hard to decipher (as always), he could spot something of concern in his eye...

"Are you all right?"

"I'm fine," he muttered. The only thing worse than upsetting Father was having him be concerned or worried. He was old enough to look out for himself.

Father released him. "You must learn to control your emotions, Regulus. A true Black does not succumb to such displays of weakness."

He nodded.

Father studied him for a moment, then reached out his hand. "Let's walk together. The fresh air might do us both some good."

He followed him down the rest of the stairs in silence. Through the hall, in silence. Out the front door, still in silence. Out their street...

"Something has upset you, my son. I can see it in your eyes. Please, tell me what's troubling you."

He didn't answer. He wasn't sure how to. He couldn't lie, exactly—Father would know. Father always knew. Lying to Father was a bad, bad idea. Besides, he was terrible at making up lies. It was better to just not say anything about the letter, to just keep quiet.

"It's your brother, isn't it?"

"What?" How the hell did he know that?

"I have siblings of my own... I understand the bond between brothers is a strong one. Being away from him for so long-"

"That's not it," he interrupted.

Father stopped walking. "It's not?"

A Muggle walked past them and glared. Father glared back, reaching for his wand in his pocket, but the Muggle left them alone.

Regulus fought the urge to just say everything was fine, none of this mattered. He really didn't want to talk about this.

"Regulus," Father started again, "it's OK if you miss your brother."

"I don't miss him. I hate him."

Father clipped him around the ear. "Do not say that!"

"Sorry," he mumbled. This was exactly why he didn't want to talk about Sirius. He had no idea why Father seemed to put him on some sort of pedestal—Mother's screeching was far more sensible.

"Hate is a very strong word. Do not use it just because you are angry at your brother. You will regret it."

Father had no idea what he was talking about. Just angry? Angry didn't even begin to cover what he felt. "He said you and Mother are monsters in one of his letters. He said you're horrible."

Father smiled. "Has he? We have received some letters as well with similar sentiments..."

"That's why I h—dislike him. He shouldn't-"

"No. He shouldn't. And your mother and I will tell him as much when he comes home tomorrow. But he is still your brother. He might be a troublemaker, he might be a Gryffindor, he might be all sorts of thing you don't like. But he is, and always will be, your brother. And you do not speak of your brother like that. Do I make myself clear?"

"Yes, Father. But I can't just let him call you those things..."

"Of course you can. Ignore him, Regulus. All he wants is for you to react. Do not give him that satisfaction, do not respond to this provocation."

He sighed. "I guess I can do that."

"I know you can. Don't let me down, Regulus. Gryffindor is a dangerous place for your brother to be right now, even if he doesn't realise it. The very people he lives with are the ones trying to bring us to our knees, and they will get into his head. I fear they may already be inside his head... promise me one thing, Regulus. Don't let him get to you. Don't believe a word he says."

"I promise. I won't let you down."

Father ran a hand through Regulus' hair. "I know you won't. You never have."

Sirius could be back any moment now. Father had left to pick him up nearly twenty minutes ago, and it really didn't take that long... did it?

Mother paced up and down the drawing room. "Twenty minutes," she murmured to herself, "twenty-one..."

Crack.

Father and Sirius adjusted to their new surroundings as they appeared in the drawing room, trunk and all.

"Twenty-one minutes!" Mother yelled. "Twenty-one!"

"It was very crowded, dear-"

"I don't care how crowded it was, something could've happened!"

He shrank back on the sofa, trying to make himself invisible (and failing). Sirius moved as if to join him on the sofa, but Father grabbed his arm. "Not so fast, young man!"

Mother stopped caring about the amount of minutes that had passed since Father left. "Sirius Black, how dare you!"

"How dare I what, Mother?"

She lashed out at him but narrowly missed. "Don't test me, boy!"

"Test you?! Test you?! Are you fucking—OW!"

This time, she didn't miss. Regulus buried his face into the back of the sofa. He couldn't. He just couldn't watch, nor could he escape the drawing room unseen.

"How dare you disrespect this family! Your father and I have worked tirelessly to give you everything you could ever need and this is how you repay us? LOOK AT ME WHEN I'M TALKING TO YOU!"

"No! You've NEVER given me ANYTHING, Mother―OW!"

"NOTHING?! THIS IS NOTHING?!"

"I don't care about—OW, STOP IT! WHY CAN'T YOU JUST ACCEPT ME FOR WHO I AM?!"

"Accept you? You're nothing more than a disgrace. You disgust me, you hear me? You disgust me."

He tasted the salt of his own tears before he even knew he was crying. Why was this happening? Why couldn't things go back to normal? Why did Sirius have to be a stupid Gryffindor and ruin everything?!

He didn't look up again until long after Sirius and Mother had left the room and he deemed it to be safe. Father sat in an armchair, reading the Daily Prophet. "Ah, there he is."

"W-what?"

He folded the newspaper. "Regulus, do you know the importance of listening to your mother and I?"

"Of course I do."

"Go on, tell me."

"Errr..." what would Father even want to hear? It was important to listen to them because it just was. This wasn't the time for philosophical questions. He was tired.

"It's important because your mother and I do our best to keep you safe. If you go against our orders, we cannot guarantee your safety. Do you understand?"

He nodded, slowly. That made sense, but why was he telling him this?

Father stood up. "Very well. Stay away from your brother."

What?

"OK," he mumbled, and Father left the drawing room.

He lay his head back down on the sofa and closed his eyes, trying to picture something nice, something not interrupted by violent flashes of red and green.

After a few minutes he gave up and left the drawing room. He'd probably have an easier time trying to think of something lighthearted if he had his puffskein with him. He really missed that fluff ball.

He was halfway up the stairs to the second floor when he heard his parents.

"... hit me!"

"You have to be patient with him, dear-"

"Patient?! With that... that..."

"He is your son," Father replied firmly. "Treat him as such."

"NO SON OF MINE-" She fell silent in an instant.

"Pull yourself together," Father hissed, "you're not exactly setting the right example yourself. Go to bed. That goes for you as well, Regulus."

He nearly fell back in shock, but his grip on the railing instinctively tightened. "Yes, Father," he murmured, still unsure how he'd known he was there. He hadn't made a sound, had he?

He quickly moved past them up more stairs until he reached the topmost landing. The door to Sirius' bedroom was open, and it was tempting... so tempting...

Better not. He moved towards his own bedroom.

"Regulus?"

"Hmm?"

"Are you OK?"

He let go of the handle and crossed the hall, towards his brother's bedroom. "I'm fine," he said, "are you?"

Sirius lay on his bed. He appeared to have been crying. "Me too."

He lingered in the doorway, his father's words coming back to him. "I'm really not supposed to talk to you..."

Sirius sat up. "Fine. Go to bed, then."

"I didn't mean-"

"Goodnight, Regulus."

He sighed. "Goodnight..."

The next morning, at breakfast, Sirius wasn't there.

"Kreacher will bring him some food later," Father explained when he asked about his brother's absence.

"Why isn't he here?"

"Your brother won't be leaving his room until Christmas."

"Oh." That was... a very long time.

So after breakfast, he went to see him.

"Sirius?" He opened the door to his bedroom and stepped inside.

Sirius let out a forced laugh. "Look at that, the perfect little son has come to convince me of my wretchedness."

"Sirius please... I just want to talk..."

"What's the point? You won't understand."

"But I want to understand," he replied softly. "I want to know what happened at Hogwarts, why you were sorted into Gryffindor, why you abandoned-"

"Oh, so now you're suddenly an expert on how bad Gryffindor is and how wonderful our family is? Spare me."

"I'm not an expert... I'm just worried..."

"Worried?! Don't lie to me, Reg. You never even bothered to write back to me!"

"I couldn't-"

"Don't lie to me! Don't you fucking lie to me!"

Regulus backed away, stumbling over his own feet as his brother jumped up from the bed he had been sitting on. He took a few steps in his direction. "You've lost your spine, allowing them to brainwash you into whatever this is. Because this isn't the Regulus I left behind in September—oh, yeah, sure! Go on, run to them, complain about your deranged brother like you did when I let you know I'm a Gryffindor. Don't give me that look, Father told me you came running when you got the news."

He was backed up against the wall now, wishing desperately he hadn't come here in the first place. "That's not true..."

"Oh, give me a break. Remember when we were little, dreaming of escaping this wretched place? You've changed. They've molded you into this perfect little pureblood angel whilst I was away."

"I've not changed," he said. "You're the one that has. I've never wanted to abandon anyone. You have. I like it here, I value our parents, our ancestors—you're just ungrateful. Admit it."

"Do you hear yourself? Do you even hear the things you're saying? You're not thinking for yourself! You're not your own person!"

"I am my own person!" He took a step forwards, he wasn't about to let his brother do this right now. He couldn't have him ruining even more than he already had ruined. He wouldn't let him.

"No you're not!"

"Yes, I AM!"

"YOU'RE NOT!"

"I AM!"

"SHUT UP!" Sirius charged at him and pushed him hard enough for Regulus to lose his footing and fall back against the wall.

The impact of his head against the hard, stone wall left him blinded in pain for a split second. Before he could even get back on his feet, he felt something poke into his chest.

Sirius' wand.

He had no time to think. The mere thought of Sirius – who had gone to Hogwarts for a few months now, he could know tons of spells – standing there, ready to attack... it was terrifying.

"Kreacher!" He called out, in a desperate attempt for backup. Kreacher was the only one who could help.

The house elf appeared next to him with a crack.

"Get out-" Sirius told him.

"No, stay, Kreacher!"

"Don't listen to him, Kreacher, he's out of his mind!"

"Sirius is a filthy blood traitor! He doesn't care about this fa-"

"What did you call me?" Sirius growled.

"I called you a filthy, dirty, disgusting blood traitor," he said calmly, ignoring the wand with all his might. Merlin, it felt good to say it out loud.

"You'll pay for that-"

But before his brother could make him pay, his wand flew out of his hand and he was thrown against the opposite wall.

Father stepped into view. He hurried towards Sirius' wand, carefully pocketing it before standing in-between them. "What is the meaning of this?"

"Regulus called me a blood traitor!" Sirius yelled before he could even open his mouth to speak.

"Is that true?"

"I'm sorry..."

Father pinched the bridge of his nose. "Do not call him that. Sirius is no more a blood traitor than I am. Understood? Goodness me, when will you learn that Hogwarts houses aren't everything."

"Yes, Father," he mumbled. It wasn't fair.

"Sirius, never, and I repeat, NEVER point your wand at your brother again. Do I make myself clear?"

Sirius didn't say anything.

"You want your wand back? Then answer me."

"Fine. I won't do it again."

"Good. Regulus, with me."

He scrambled to his feet and followed his father out of the room.

"Wait! Don't I get my wand back?"

"Tomorrow morning," Father said, "If you behave."

Whether or not Sirius got his wand back that morning, he didn't know. Sirius still couldn't leave his room and Father had made it painfully clear that he wasn't to visit his brother either.

The day passed in a blur. It was almost as if Sirius hadn't come back at all, yet there he was, in the room across the hall...

He didn't visit his brother that day. Nor the day after, and not even the day after that. But after four days of silence, knowing his brother was there, he couldn't do it any more.

So that evening he knocked on his brother's bedroom door and stepped inside.

"Why are you here? You're not supposed to be here. Go away."

He lay on his bed, an open book covering his face.

"I don't want to," he said.

"Oh, so now you're suddenly a rebel," Sirius said, taking the book off his face and sitting up.

"I... I'm not, I just... I'm sorry I called you a blood traitor..."

He laughed. "Took you long enough."

"Well... like you said, I'm not supposed to be here..."

"But you are."

"Well, yeah-"

"Why?"

That was actually a very good question. He truly was sorry for calling him that. He hadn't meant it, not really...

"Just leave," Sirius mumbled, "just leave me alone."

"No."

"I don't want to talk to you. Go to bed."

"Well I don't want to go to bed!"

"God! You're so annoying. Just leave, will you? Get lost!"

"No," he said, crossing his arms. "I want to spend time with my brother."

"Oh, so now I'm your brother."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"I'm just a blood traitor to you, remember? Or have you forgotten?"

"I just told you I was sorry! I didn't mean that!"

"Yeah, right."

"I didn't!"

Sirius rolled his eyes. "Did you come here for a reason or just to argue?"

"I came to talk."

"Well, then talk."

"We are talking."

"This is a waste of time. Goodnight." He let himself fall back on the bed.

"Sirius just listen to me, please!"

"Why should I listen to you, huh? Why should I listen to anyone here?"

"We're family."

Sirius laughed.

"We're all just worried about you... I'm worried, Mother and Father are worried, Bella-"

He sprang to his feet. "I want nothing to do with people like her."

"What do you mean?"

"People who support that man."

"What man?"

"You-Know-Who."

"No, I don't!"

"That man... that man Evan talked to us about. Remember?"

Oh. "What's wrong with the Dark Lord?"

"What's wrong with—oh my God, Regulus, do you hear yourself?"

"Well, Bella likes him."

"Bellatrix is insane."

"Will you stop insulting everyone!"

Sirius moved a hand as if to smack him. Regulus flinched back, but he changed its course last minute and instead tore at his own hair. "Just go."

"No. You're being so—ungrateful! Mother and Father care about us! Bella is brave and she fights for what's right!"

"You don't believe that. Tell me you don't believe that."

"I do!"

"Dear cousin Bella is a murderer. An actual cold-blooded murderer."

That's what Father had said, too. And maybe that was true, but it wasn't as bad as Sirius put it now. "They deserve what they got."

"What did you just say?!"

"Those people, they deserve it."

That's when it became clear to him that his brother had got his wand back, for he pointed it at Regulus and growled: "Out. Before I make you."