It was all exciting. It was all shared anticipation and excitement. The packing, the tailoring, the book-ordering, the whispered night-time fantasising about what the next year would hold. It was all for the both of them - until the train had left the station and Regulus lowered his arm. It ached from waving.
The bubble had burst. The fun was over. It had all been stolen away. He looked up to his father, who stood, stony faced, his grey eyes flickering over the faces of the families around them. One corner of his mouth was curled in disgust. Regulus said nothing, and waited.
He followed obediently when it was time to pass through the barrier, and held the crook of his father's arm when they apparated back to the doorstep of Grimmauld Place.
It was a rare glimpse of the outside world. He and Sirius had always spent the majority of their time in the big, dark townhouse. Occasionally ferried to other ornate and equally boring living rooms to sit silently while his parents spoke with other witches and wizards, but otherwise left to amuse themselves in the many, dusty rooms. Now that he was back in that hallway, he watched his father's back as he retreated to his office and the door clicked closed behind him.
The house was still and quiet. The dark staircase loomed in front of him, veering up towards the many, pointless bedrooms, and down towards the cold kitchen. He stood, alone, wringing his cold hands together, lost as to what to do now.
The time seemed to crawl by. He sat in the library, flicking through books, aimlessly. He wandered up and down the stairs, opening and closing doors as though he expected something different to be behind them. He sat at the piano and tinkered absently, wishing his brother was there to infuriate him by playing the highest key. He traced the family tree with a finger to pass a few minutes, took all his trinkets out of the box under his bed and lined them in size order, then returned them. He practised latin verbs under his breath, and breathed onto the windows so he could write spell roots on them.
He left his room at night and crawled into Sirius' empty bed, looking for a hint of his company.
It was going to be a long year.
Sirius didn't write. Of course, they had never said they would, but Regulus had, somewhere in his heart, expected it. Especially for his birthday. He accepted his parents' birthday wishes gracefully at the table, and smiled politely as he slipped on the silver signet ring debossed with an ornate B. He would have liked to have tried it out by sealing his reply to his brother's birthday wishes if he ' d received some.
He consoled himself, thinking perhaps the post was delayed, and he would receive it tonight, or perhaps tomorrow morning.
Of course, nothing came.
How embarrassing. His parents made no comment, but he'd be foolish to think they wouldn't know.
They always seemed to know.
He sat on his bed that night, twisting his new ring around his finger, and decided that he would sleep in his own room that night.
And at that point, it became easier. As Christmas drew nearer, he resigned himself to his solitude and told himself he would stop pining. He threw himself into his tutoring (which went much smoother without Sirius there to distract him) and resolved to be one of the best students in his year - it wasn't as though he had anything better to do than study. He even managed to garner his mother's positive attention, as she remarked on how much he was blossoming without his brother's distracting influence.
And then, on the 20th, it all fell apart.
How could he not let the fizzy excitement take over him when he saw Sirius standing there in front of him, a little taller, hair a little longer and giving him a slightly nervous one-sided smile.
How could he not throw his arms around him?
And how could he not join his brother on his bed that night so he could hear all his stories of Hogwarts - the castle, the lessons, the teachers, his friends, the rule breaking , the exploring , the dualling. He was starstruck all over again.
They fell asleep, on top of the covers, in the middle of a sleepy conversation, just like before.
All was forgiven.
It was a glorious, sunny week to punctuate the dusty, dull solitude of the past few months. It hardly mattered that Christmas dinner with his parents was as boring as ever, now that he had someone to share a sideways glance and a sly smirk with. It didn't matter that they were left in the drawing room to amuse themselves while their parents disappeared into the depths of the house. They could sit together at the piano stool and giggle themselves silly plinking at the piano. He'd fall asleep, sat on Sirius' bed listening to bemusing stories of James Potter, whose parents had given him an invisibility cloak so that he could get up to mischief undetected at Hogwarts. He dreamed of wandering the castle at night, with his big brother at his side, showing him hidden corridors and secret passageways, under the cover of the magical cloak.
In the back of his mind, it was tainted by the knowledge that it would all come to an end. That Andromeda would show up, then steal Sirius away. He pushed the thought down as best he could, so that it wouldn't pollute the good times, but then when the time came, it seemed to have only grown stronger in the recesses of his mind.
Yet again, there he was, stood in the dark, empty hallway, wringing his hands together - alone in the silence.
At least this time, he had the allure of Easter to keep him going.
He sat on the hearth rug, waiting for the fireplace to flare green, at six o'clock in the morning. Kreacher brought him some toast and sat with him for a while, letting him excitedly reveal his plans for the Easter holidays with Sirius, saying very little but smiling kindly.
Nine o'clock came and went. Perhaps he was held up. Kreacher reappeared at midday with a ham and mustard sandwich and the reasonable suggestion to busy himself with something while he waited. Regulus ignored him, opting to lie on the rug and allow his daydreams to take over.
Through the heavy nets, the sky outside darkened. Kreacher returned to pull the thick curtains closed with a click of his bony fingers. He didn't say anything that time.
He woke up the next morning on the same rug, a blanket tucked on top of him, and still no sign of Sirius.
At least he was too stiff and tired to be embarrassed as he walked up the stairs to deposit the blanket in his bedroom and take a shower.
He sat at the wooden table in their kitchen, absentmindedly eating porridge with too much sugar on it, when his mother appeared behind him in the doorway.
"Dress smart and tidy up your hair, we're going out." Her voice was clipped and disinterested. Regulus stood and faced her, lest she think he was being cheeky.
"I will. Where are we going? And is father coming?"
Walburga was tall, and her head nearly touched the frame of the kitchen door when she stood on the stairs, towering over Regulus. Her face was still in shadow, but her ever-serious eyes were clearly visible.
"The Lestranges have invited all of us. Needless to say, since your brother has decided not to show himself, we will be going just the three of us. Young Rodolphus and Rabastan will be there." Her gaze drifted away from Regulus off to the corner of the low-ceilinged kitchen. Regulus knew she was looking into the middle distance, thinking.
"Since your brother has decided he has better things to do than be part of this family, this Easter, you shall have to make me proud." She looked down at Regulus, her face uncharacteristically fond. The hairs on Regulus' neck stood up. It was cold in the kitchen.
"You have always been the better son."
She disappeared up the staircase.
Regulus pushed his porridge away, suddenly put off it, and waited for her footsteps to dissipate before he ascended the stairs himself.
He had looked jealously upon Sirius' normal clothes that he'd come home wearing, but he supposed this was part of the reason that he caused his mother such disdain. Regulus certainly knew better than to dress like a muggle. He shrugged out of the simple robes he'd pulled on earlier and opened the wardrobe to see what Lestrange-appropriate options he had.
His mother seemed to approve of the smart, black dress robes he'd decided on, after much anxious deliberation. She placed a tight, cold hand on his shoulder and they followed his father into the fireplace.
Spat out into the Lestranges' hearth, his mother landing gracefully as always, he was steadied by her iron grip on his collarbone. His father was ahead of them, already greeting Auraelus Lestrange. He glimpsed Rodolphus and Rabastan behind him, sitting dutifully prim on one of the uncomfortable sofas. He resolved himself to an evening of the same fate.
He knew Lestrange and his father would disappear off somewhere to talk, as they always did, but perhaps if his mother and Mrs Lestrange were in a good mood, and had enough wine, he and the brothers would at least have an opportunity to chat. He and Sirius had never bothered too much with them before. They were a little too nosy and stuffy for their liking. But without Sirius to entertain him, he supposed they were the next best option.
Undine Lestrange was short and blonde, but no less severe and uptight than his own mother. It was no surprise they got along. Their fathers were different, though. Regulus had always found Auraelus interesting. Where Orion was quiet, boring (in Regulus' opinion) and happy to submit to the will of his much more forward wife, Auraelus was loud and opinionated. Often, at dinners in the past, he would drink too much wine and then talk, very loudly, about the kinds of things his mother lovingly clipped out of newspapers. He recalled one evening, many years ago, where he talked endlessly about the werewolf Fenryr Greyback and Regulus had had nightmares for a few weeks afterwards.
"No Sirius, this evening?" Undine commented, regarding Regulus haughtily. Walburga replaced her hand on his shoulder.
"Unfortunately no. He's decided to stay back and study over Easter. Thankfully, we have Regulus to keep us company." Walburga followed her lead and sat, alongside Regulus, opposite Undine and her sons.
"Luckily, we have a well stocked library here for my own boys not to fall behind on their studies and be able to enjoy the comfort of their home," Undine remarked, blandly. "I should have Rabastan let young Sirius know that he and his brother are always welcome to study here."
Regulus looked between the two women as subtly as he could manage. He often wondered why his parents even came to these dinners. It hardly seemed they were friends.
He looked over to the two boys opposite. Rodolphus was thirteen or so now, and it showed. He was gangly and awkward looking, even in his dress robes, and his face was marred with a few scars from where Regulus assumed he'd tried to banish his own pimples. Rabastan, he knew, was in the same year as Sirius. He had a haughtiness about him which Regulus assumed he'd cultivated in Hogwarts. It was clear from the pitying way he looked at him that he saw him as a baby, despite having been in Regulus' position not four months prior.
Regulus picked at the food cooked and served by the Lestrange house elves. He tried his best not to prop his elbows on the table and allow himself to drift off to the conversation around him, but it was painfully boring. Eventually, Rabastan was the first to cave - politely requesting if he could show Regulus their library. While he would rather not sit in the Lestrange library, at least the brothers would likely have much more interesting conversation for him.
The library was surprisingly cosy, considering how ornate and distinctly un-lived-in the rest of the house was. Regulus had been there a few times before, and it was his favourite room in the house. He followed the brothers in and they shut the door behind him.
"What about your brother, then?" Rabastan asked immediately. "Bit embarrassing for the Blacks."
Regulus didn't know quite how to answer. He had a decent inkling that anything he said might get back to Undine or Auraelus, so he tried to remain diplomatic while not throwing his brother to the wolves.
"My brother will be a great wizard, no matter what house he's in." He tried to keep his tone as bland as possible and watched their faces to see how it landed. Rodolphus quirked an eyebrow at him.
"Oh come on, Reg. We all know it's a mess. I know he's your brother and all, but you always were the better of the two - you must see it. You know you can choose your house, right?"
Uncertain what Rodolphus was getting at, sharing this information, he shrugged and sat himself down on a nearby armchair. "I didn't know that. What of it?"
The brothers shared a look. Rodolphus continued, "Well, it's not looking good for your Sirius either way, is it? Either the hat tried to put him in Slytherin, and he asked for something else…"
"Or he could have asked for Slytherin, and chose not to." Regulus finished, his voice trailing off. "I see what you're saying."
There was a heavy pause, and then Rabastan broke the sombre spell and smiled at him. With it, Regulus saw the young boy that he was shine through the stuffy exterior.
"Can't wait to have you in Slytherin! It's honestly brilliant. And I know you definitely won't have to ask the hat!"
It was an odd kind of reassurance. To know that someone was eagerly waiting for him. It made a nice change from how things usually were.
Regulus returned the smile, a little shyly. "Thanks. I'm looking forward to it, too."
And it was true, he was looking forward to it. But now, with all this nonsense with Sirius, things had become much more complicated. He had always imagined himself and Sirius in the Slytherin common room together when he daydreamed of Hogwarts - despite the fact Sirius had always been adamant he wasn't a snake. Now he would be entering the dungeons alone. Would Sirius be disappointed in him if he didn't ask to go elsewhere? But would it even be worth the fallout if he allowed himself to go to somewhere like Gryffindor or Ravenclaw? After all, his parents had made it crystal clear that if Sirius were to continue down this path, he would take Sirius' place as head of the family.
It was all well and good being the spare, but if the heir fell though… suddenly the pressure was more than he could have anticipated.
Perhaps he was getting ahead of himself. After all, it was only a change of house and one missed holiday. There was nothing to say that Sirius would become some kind of blood traitor.
But the doubt grew.
No updates, no letters. All he heard about his brother for the remainder of the school year was a short snippet in a note from his cousin Narcissa who informed him that he'd been keeping out of her way. It was hard not to let his mind run amok without anything to ground it.
He daydreamed of Slytherin - though this time, without Sirius present. Would Rabastan stand up and cheer when he was sorted? And who would be his new classmates to wile away the hours in the common room? There were no younger children in the family that he had met before - it would be nice to meet some new people.
And how fun would it be to ride a broomstick? He'd never tried - his parents thought it was a little uncouth, but he knew flying lessons were waiting for him in first term. He daydreamed of being surrounded by all of those familiar people (without the looming influence of their parents to stifle the atmosphere). Cousins Bellatrix, Narcissa, of course the Lestrange brothers… Well, almost everyone would be a cousin, to some degree, he supposed. And they would all be like him, even the people he didn't know yet. He knew that most old families traditionally went into the same houses. He wouldn't need to fear learning how to fit in with all those new students from different walks of life. They might be from opposite sides of the country, but most pureblood families had a shared culture in common.
Regulus had always liked feeling included. Part of something.
He knew Sirius loved to be different, but if he really thought about it, what he wanted was acceptance.
After months of exciting himself with those very thoughts, it was incredibly difficult to adjust to the change of pace when his brother finally returned. Even the journey home on his father's arm hadn't managed to dampen his excitement - Regulus could see it threatening to fizz over in his bright, grey eyes. He lurked in the shadows, watching and waiting for the stiff welcome from their mother to end, before he emerged. He wasn't expecting to be shy, but it happened anyway.
"Welcome home," he whispered. Sirius grinned, showing his teeth. There was definitely something different. Sure, he had gotten a touch taller when he'd seen him at Christmas, and sure, he'd had different stories to tell - but it had still been his Sirius.
This Sirius was… well… something wasn't right.
He boldly took Regulus' hand and pulled him upstairs excitedly. Regulus baulked at the casual contact, but allowed himself to be pulled along. As soon as they were safely in Regulus' room, Sirius started talking.
Not the late-night story-telling talking. Not the chittering back and forth that they fell into after a moment to get reacquainted with each other.
This was something else.
He'd picked up this odd gesture, waving his arms as he spoke. It made Regulus think of an off-balance tightrope walker. He stood too close to Regulus. It made him itchy. He stepped back, and Sirius unconsciously stepped forward to close the gap. Regulus watched his face as he spoke, more than listening to his words. His curls bounced as he talked excitedly, and his cheeks were pink. It was as though someone had turned the dial up.
He wanted to let the excitement wash over him, infect him, sweep him up and carry him away, but he was moored by the horrible feeling that he was no longer going to be enough for Sirius Black.
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