Filch had been waiting for him in the Entrance Hall. He had been given a full month of detentions, which Slughorn only doubled when he heard he'd left the castle. To make matters worse, he lost his house fifty points. Fifty!

He still had no idea how they knew of his absence, but there was no arguing with it. And so he spent the rest of October polishing silver and sorting out trophies—without magic. The days all blurred together and the nights brought him little solace; ever since he learnt of Bellatrix murdering that pureblood family, he'd been having nightmares again.

Over and over again he dreamt of people disappearing in a flash of green light, dropping to the floor like those Aurors last year. First they were random people, then their faces turned into those of people he knew. His classmates, his grandparents, his aunts, uncles, cousins, parents, and brother. One by one they were swallowed by the green light, whilst her high voice cackled with laughter in the background.

The end of October brought Hallowe'en, and Hallowe'en brought a feast, and no feast was complete without decorations. This one had live bats flying about the hall and the Bloody Baron (Slytherin's grim house ghost) made it his personal goal to scare as many students as possible, but Regulus wasn't interested in the strange festivities and cheer, nor had he the time; between his homework and detention, there was very little space for anything else. In fact, he had to miss the feast as he was spending all evening in detention, having to clean bedpans with nothing but his hands.

And again the day after.

And the day after that.

And on the third of November, he still hadn't finished. He hurried over to the hospital wing after his classes and checked in with Madam Pomfrey who pointed him towards the stack of bedpans waiting for him in the corner.

He had to admit it was far better to be here as a patient than an unruly student, though he hoped not to injure himself that badly for at least the rest of the year. Preferably the rest of his school career was without severe injury, but he had a feeling that was too much asked.

He set to working on the bedpans, getting lost in his head as he did so. The familiar motion of his hands scrubbing them clean did nothing to help tear his thoughts away from those same questions he had asked Bellatrix all those days ago. Had Father been right? Was she nothing but an ordinary murderer? If anyone had asked him just moments before she admitted to killing a perfectly pureblooded family, he'd have answered no. Now...

No. His answer had to remain no. She was his cousin, and she must've had her reasons. It didn't do to dwell on these things.

He dipped the brush into the soapy water once more and wrung it out as if he could make his thoughts disappear if only he squeezed hard enough. His hands had already grown numb from the cold water but his mind kept racing. It was useless.

With each scrub, the clinking of the brush against the porcelain grew louder. And with each brush, it grew more distinct—no longer were they rhythmic strokes, the sounds twisted themselves in his mind, playing with his memories in the most cruel way imaginable. They became footsteps in the dark, of mean men out to get him. Aurors shooting jets of red light at him...

The footsteps continued, growing closer even as he stopped his scrubbing. Any moment now he could get ambushed, attacked. Any moment now he could end up dead.

Any moment now.

"Detention too, hm?"

He looked up at his brother. "Er—yeah. What did you do?"

"Same as you," he chuckled "Got caught."

He didn't laugh. "It's not funny."

"Come on, cheer up! It's not as if anyone died."

"Still," he said, sighing as he looked back at the bedpans. "Are you here to help me?"

"Unfortunately," Sirius said.

"It's simply barbaric, having us do these things. We're not house elves."

Sirius agreed. "That they'd let a child and a teenager do this..."

A child and a teenager? What a peculiar thing to say. Regulus shook his head in amusement and took the next bedpan in his hands when it dawned on him—a teenager. It was the third of November!

"So, how do you like being thirteen?" he asked, hoping to sound casual and not as if he had forgotten all about his big brother's birthday.

"It's worse than being twelve. Not that you'd know about that."

"Hey! I'm almost twelve!"

"You literally just turned eleven."

"That was back in August. It's November now. Just eight more months to go."

"Whatever you say," Sirius sniggered. "So what did my perfect little brother do to earn himself a detention?"

"Got caught," he said through gritted teeth. If Sirius wouldn't tell, neither would he. "Here, help me out, will you?"

Sirius reluctantly took the dirty bedpan from him and dipped one of the brushes into the bucket with soap. "I don't understand why they can't just magic these clean and have us copying lines."

"I'm with you there. But even Cissy-"

Sirius' laugh interrupted him. "You actually complained to her about detention?"

"Of course," he said, "but she said I deserved it."

"My dear brother, are you saying you're surprised by that reaction?"

"Shut up and clean."

And silence returned to the hospital wing once more.

"I hope I never catch whatever those students had. I'm not going near one of those again," said Sirius as he finished cleaning his last bedpan.

"Just stay out of detention," Regulus suggested.

He gasped. "Me? No detention? It's not my fault, you know. Those bloody teachers pay too much attention."

"Well, it is their job-"

"It's not their job to put me in detention for nothing-"

"What's 'nothing'?"

"Snivellus deserved every hex he got."

Regulus shook his head. "Why did you hex him?" he asked.

"Because it's fun. You should try it sometime."

"No thanks. My dormmates already think I'll curse their heads off without me doing such things."

Sirius laughed. "You? Curse their heads off? Ha!"

He rolled his eyes and went back to cleaning. "Have you any plans for today?"

"What?"

"Your birthday-"

"No," he said curtly. "I'll celebrate with my friends later but that's it."

He'd celebrate with his friends?! His stupid, Gryffindor, Muggle-loving friends and not with his own brother??

"You can come, if you want," Sirius suggested. "We'll be down in the kitchens."

Night fell and the time was ripe to find the kitchens. He wouldn't miss his brother's birthday, not even if he was but an afterthought and his stupid friends were present.

He followed the instructions his brother had left him, trying his best not to be too loud—the last thing he needed was more detention. He already had enough to last a lifetime.

Why had he agreed to come, again?

Finally, he reached the painting his brother had described, that of a simple fruit bowl. "Tickle the pear," his brother had said, because of course Hogwarts had to have the kitchens hidden behind ticklish fruit. Where else would it be?

And so he reached out and tickled the pear in the painting, which transformed into a door handle. He grasped it, opened the door, and froze as the sudden warmth hit him. The room seemed to be identical to the Great Hall—there stood four tables exactly where the house tables stood. There were at least a hundred house elves scurrying about in the back by the High Table, bringing the four boys that sat there all the food they could eat (and more).

He knew their names and faces by now: Remus Lupin sat on the far left, roaring with laughter at something one of the other boys had said or done before he stepped inside. Next to him sat Peter Pettigrew, the boy that attacked him, the Mudblood he wrote home about. On the Mudblood's right sat James Potter. That name alone...

His brother hadn't seen him yet, or perhaps he pretended not to. He sat next to Potter, sitting so close they could've been glued together and he'd still believe it. Potter wasn't allowed to sit that close to his brother. Sirius was his.

But Sirius didn't seem uncomfortable. On the contrary, he had rarely seen him more at ease. And that wasn't allowed. Oh, why hadn't Mother and Father pulled him out of school already? Wasn't it bad enough to them for their firstborn to not just talk to but actually become friends with these figures? Had his letter accomplished nothing?!

He took a few steps back and let the door fall shut. The handle turned back into a pear and he resisted the sudden urge to ram his fist through the painting—it wouldn't do.

He made his way back to the Dungeons still fuming with anger. He had risked detention for that! He had risked everything to see his brother on the one day he got his attention, even if it had mostly been about bedpans waiting to be cleaned. Was it too much asked that he wanted one evening with his brother? That he wanted some time with him, alone, to just be together without those dumb friends of his?!

"Well, well, well, what have we here?"

He stepped into the Common Room only to stand face-to-face with Avery.

"Shut up," he spat, trying to push past him.

"It's after curfew, you know."

"Yes, I'm aware."

"You're not supposed to be out of bed."

"Neither are you."

"Ah, but I'm in the Common Room. You were not. I could get old Sluggy."

Were they really doing this? "Then you'd be out of the Common Room."

"I'd have a good reason."

"Just let me past."

"Say 'please'."

"I'm not going to beg, you-"

"Tut-tut, I hope you can sleep in the cold, drafty corridors..."

"Fine," he said, "fine. May I go in, please?"

Avery grinned. "No."

Normally, he could take it. He'd brush it off and go about his day. But now? Now his brother was laughing with those stupid friends of his?

He shoved Avery aside with his full body. "I said, let me past!"

Avery had stumbled back far enough for him to race past him, to the dorms, but he hadn't pushed him hard enough to get too much of a head start. He'd barely reached the other end of the Common Room when Avery tackled him to the floor.

"You thought you could escape me that easily?" teased Avery as they grappled on the Common Room floor, wrestling for control. He tried to push Avery off of him but his grip was too strong. He lay pinned to the floor.

He'd lost.

"You see, Black," Avery hissed in his ear, "this is always going to happen. I'm always going to win at this, at life. I come from a better family, I know better people, I'll get to high places and I'll be rich and powerful whilst you rot away in your London home begging mummy and daddy to let you go out."

"AVERY!"

Regulus wasn't even able to say anything to those baseless accusations when Narcissa came to his rescue. Avery let go of him immediately and smiled sweetly at her. "Wasn't doing anything wrong," he said cheerfully.

"You should be in bed! It's nearly midnight. That goes for both of you," she added, eyeing him with suspicion.

"Right you are, miss," Avery laughed.

"Well, go on, then," said Narcissa.

Regulus got back on his feet and followed Avery to their dormitory, a knog tightening in his stomach. Why did he have to share his dorm with Avery of all people...

"Think about what I said, Black," Avery said before he shut the curtains around his bed. "Your cousin can't protect you forever."

Perhaps she could not. Regulus knew this—he never wanted her to in the first place. He was old enough to do what had to be done on his own. And yet it was extremely convenient.

Ever since that evening, Narcissa kept a closer watch on him, and on Avery. This resulted in Avery actually acting semi-decent and meant that precious little happened for the rest of November. He went to class, sat with the Peasegoods (who were dreadfully boring but at least didn't make fun of him) and kept to himself in his free time.

Sirius avoided him, and he avoided Sirius. He was happier with his friends, that stupid, worthless cockroach! Ignoring his own blood as if he was nothing, preferring to hang out with Mudbloods and their sympathisers. No, Sirius deserved none of the attention he had to give him, but it was gnawing at him that Sirius didn't seem to desire this attention either.

1 December brought him post. It was Friday and he hadn't expected anything (he'd given up on it by now) when two large brown owls dropped off a package and a letter—both Bellatrix's.

"Open it! Open it!" Arnold called out, barely able to contain his excitement over his package.

Regulus, however, was more interested in the letter.

Dear Regulus,

I'm sorry. I should have handled our meeting last month better, and I shouldn't have ignored you this long. Enclosed you'll find some delicious sweets (I hope), a little present and an official invitation to my wedding this Christmas. See you then!

Xxx Bella

"Merlin's spectacles, this is unbelievable!"

His head snapped up from the letter to find the Peasegoods had opened his package. "Hey, that's mine!"

"But look at it! You have to share—two sets of Cribbing Cuffs! Not just one, two! These cost a fortune, there's only a handful of them on the market!"

He looked at the twins. "Cribbing Cuffs?"

"Yes! They allow you to cheat on tests," Catharina said, "they're extremely useful and brand new, teachers will never suspect it."

"You've also got two wells of Self-Correcting ink," Arnold filled in as he took the ink wells out, "and a quill-"

"Merlin's beard, Regulus who sent you this?!" Catharina asked, taking the quill from her brother. "This is an Auto-Answering Quill! You'll be top of the class, you won't even need the Cuffs!"

"May we have the Cuffs?" Arnold put on his best smile and puppy eyes.

"Nobody's getting anything! It's mine!" He reached over the table and put the inkwells and cuffs back into the box. He held out his hand for the quill. "Give it to me. Give it!"

The days had never gone by faster and before he knew it, he found himself standing at the tiny platform of Hogsmeade Train Station with his brother.

"Mother and Father want you home," he stated, for the fifteenth time that morning alone.

"And I want to stay here," Sirius said, "I'm just here to see you off."

"You're coming with. You've got to-"

"I haven't 'got to' do anything! Merlin's beard, I'm thirteen, I'm old enough to decide I'm staying here for Christmas."

"No you're not! Think of Bellatrix!"

Sirius let out a grim laugh. "Bella? You think she cares if I'm there for her wedding?"

"I know she does."

"Trust me, she doesn't care. None of them do. Just go home, play house together, and leave me be."

He was about to answer that he wasn't taking 'no' for an answer when the train whistle sounded, signalling they had to get on board now, or be left at the school.

"Please come with," he tried one last time. "I want you there."

But his brother didn't budge. "The train's leaving. You better go—unless you'd rather stay here, of course."

He hesitated for a moment. Not because he wanted to stay at Hogwarts, good grief, never. But because he wanted Sirius to come with him, he needed Sirius to come with him.

Then he ran towards the train, he jumped on board through one of the open doors and he cast one last look at his brother standing on the platform below. It was his own choice. He kept telling himself that—Sirius chose to stay behind. It was Sirius' fault.

He left to find a seat somewhere that wasn't full yet. Or perhaps somewhere that had Narcissa in it, he didn't mind either way. As long as it didn't have anyone else in it. He needed some peace and quiet.

He first passed the Peasegoods, who sat with one of his halfblood dormmates and another Slytherin pureblood from their year by the name of Octavius Ogden.

Then he passed a compartment that held his other halfblood dormmates sitting with some students he didn't recognise, and he passed several more compartments filled with older teenagers who cast him disapproving looks.

It was rather odd to be back on the train now. So much had happened in the last few months, it felt as if he'd been gone an entire year at least.

"Regulus! Come on in!" Evan Rosier yelled at him, standing in the doorway of a compartment to his left.

"Er... no, thanks, I'm looking for my cousin," he said. It wasn't a lie, exactly. He wouldn't mind finding her.

"Oh," said Evan, "I think she's with the prefects."

"Why would she be there?"

"No idea, saw her going that way when I got on myself. Oh, won't you join us?"

He hesitated. On one hand, he really wanted some quiet time. On the other... It couldn't hurt.

He walked up to him to find the compartment also housed three other boys—two Averys and that greasy halfblood Snape. Perhaps he better not... the only open spot was beside the halfblood now Evan sat back next to Avery.

"I really should find Narcissa..."

"Nonsense!" Avery said, smirking. "There's plenty of space for all of us!"

He took a deep breath and sat down as far away from the halfblood as he possibly could, and he didn't move the entire train ride so that when the train finally pulled up on Platform 9 his whole body had gone stiff and eight hours he could have spent in peace were wasted.

He got off the train alongside Evan after the Averys and the halfblood hurried away to the other end of the platform.

"What's the matter?" asked Evan.

"What do you mean?"

"You keep slowing down."

He hadn't really noticed it before then, but Evan was right. They'd barely moved away from the train but his legs felt as if they were laden with led or bricks or some other heavy item, making it near impossible for him to walk. He simply couldn't go any faster, and he wasn't sure he wanted to—Sirius wasn't here with him. Mother and Father wouldn't be pleased to hear it. Just the thought of telling Mother her son wasn't interested in coming home to see her made him sick to the stomach and by the time he finally reached his parents (who were talking to Aunt Druella) a trickle of cold sweat was making its way down his furrowed brow.

He opened his mouth – he had to say something, anything! – but no sound came out. His tongue was rough as sandpaper and his throat felt swollen. Any effort he made to speak was futile.

"Regulus!" Mother exclaimed after a few seconds, noticing him.

She moved as if to hug him but Father put a hand on her shoulder, stopping her. She steadied herself and gave a curt nod. "Welcome back."

He nodded back at her, hoping his lack of speech wasn't too noticeable. He knew he had to tell them Sirius wasn't coming, that he'd be on the train alone, he simply couldn't.

He had no idea how long they stood there, waiting for Sirius... families all around them left the platform. Even Aunt Druella left, taking both Narcissa and Evan with her and they still stood there, waiting for a boy who would never come.

Maybe he could lie and say he thought his brother had got on the train, that they hadn't talked about it beforehand. Would they believe that?

"He's not coming, is he?"

He looked straight at his father, his hands clammy and his heart racing. And yet, he couldn't bring himself to lie. He couldn't bring himself to tell the truth either, but there was no point in hiding it any longer. He shook his head.

Mother let out a growl, though he wasn't sure if it was out of anger or despair, and Father put an arm around her back. "Come, Regulus," he said, holding out his other hand for him to take, "let's go home. We'll make this Christmas count."