Harry left his room and slowly walked along the corridor to Regulus's room. He had heard his guardian open a window, which meant that he had finished his afternoon nap. It was high time, Sirius would to be back in a bit, and Harry wanted to talk to Regulus before that.
The folded-up permission form was in the front pocket of his shorts, and he could feel its edges brush his thigh with every step he took. He had been carrying it around for nearly a full day now after it had arrived. It was the reason why he had gotten up early to have breakfast with Sirius; however, Sirius had seemed too much in a hurry, and Harry didn't want to risk a quick no. Also, he didn't want Sirius to get all paranoid at work and change his hurried, one-foot-in-the-fireplace 'not now' no to a hard no because he had had too much time to think about it.
Hogsmeade. Sirius and Regulus had taken him there once when they had visited him during his first year. He had been homesick, and while the village had seemed like a great place, he hadn't seen very much of it that day. He imagined that going there with Ron and Hermione was going to be amazing.
He knocked softly, then opened the door to Regulus's room. The man was standing by the window in a linen t-shirt and polka-dotted pajama pants. A gentle breeze went through the room when Harry opened the door further, blowing the curtains. Even though Harry had knocked, Regulus nearly dropped his cup of herbal tea at the sight of Harry. "Oh," he said, placing the cup on the window ledge. He rubbed his eyes, which were slightly reddened. "What's up?"
Harry knew that, sometimes, Regulus was taking medicine for his magic - potions most of the time but also teas and special herbs. When Harry had been younger, perhaps six or seven years old, he had tried the tea once when Regulus had left it unattended on the living room coffee table. He remembered how painfully bitter it had tasted and how he had immediately felt sick, although he had only taken a small sip. Regulus had chided him harshly when he had found out what Harry had done. Harry remembered that, for a moment, Regulus had looked exactly like Sirius, his panic melting into anger with such an intensity that Harry had almost expected Reg to turn him to the side and swat him. Reg hadn't, of course. Instead, he had forced him to drink an even more bitter potion - and hadn't even been nice about it - before he had sent him to stand in the corner and left him there for ages.
Harry did not know what precisely was wrong with Regulus's magic, and in the past, Regulus had tiptoed around the topic like he was afraid to burn the soles of his feet should he dare to breach it. "I'll tell you one day," Regulus had promised, "but it's something you won't be able to understand until you're a little older."
Harry let go of the door and stepped into the room. "I need you to sign something," he said.
"Okay. Sure." Regulus looked around, searching for a quill or a pen. His movements were a little slower than usual, still heavy with sleep.
Harry approached him, pulled out the permission form and unfolded it. It was badly wrinkled, but that was not surprising considering that he'd kept it in his pocket for nearly a day. "It's to allow me to go to Hogsmeade," he explained, smoothing his hand over the form.
Regulus had already raised the quill he had found on his nightstand but lowered it again at the sight of the form. He clapped a hand over his chin and rubbed where late-day stubble littered his jaw. "Umm… did you talk with Sirius about this?"
Harry pushed his glasses up on his nose with one hand. "Not yet, I thought your signature should be enough. It only requires one parent to sign it." He placed the form on the windowsill with a hopeful look.
Regulus's right hand hovered over the form for a couple of seconds, a small droplet of ink glistening at the top of his quill. Finally, he set the quill down with a soft sigh. "I can't sign it without talking with Sirius first."
Harry's face fell. "But he'll …"
"He'll what?"
Harry shrugged in an attempt to hide his disappointment. He did not want to be lectured on the fact that Sirius was doing his best, he knew that after all. But he did not want Sirius to obsess over Hogsmeade as he obsessed over Harry not leaving the house or the windows staying closed. "Nothing." Harry picked up the form again, folded it up.
Regulus chewed on his bottom lip. "Perhaps if we wait a couple of weeks," he began softly, "the situation will be different."
"And what if it won't?"
"Then I'll talk to him about it. Okay?"
Harry glanced at him, tilted his head to the side. "You will? And you'll try to convince him to sign it?"
"I'll try. I can't promise anything of course but I'll try."
Harry smiled. He slipped the permission form into his pocket, running his finger across its smooth, folded edges. "Thank you."
The next week passed quickly. Sirius had been urging them to spend some time at the cottage. Although Harry had resisted the idea in the week before his birthday, the days that followed weakened his resistance. Sirius had promised that they could go out as much as they wanted, considering that the wards surrounding the cottage extended to a half-mile radius around it, and that thought was too tempting. And so both Harry and Regulus secretly started to dream of lying in the meadow between heather and wildflowers, the blue sky above them, sunbeams tickling on their skin. Going to the lake, diving into the clear, cold water during the day; making a campfire at night, toasting marshmallows on a stick. And then there was Sirius, promising to take the evenings off so he and Harry could fly together. One could literally watch as Harry's last resistance melted away at that.
The first days of August were rainy, and yet they all felt freer at the cottage. The Scottish summer rain was a refreshing change from the stifling London heat. On Regulus's birthday, which they celebrated six days after Harry's, the sky cleared into a bright blue. There were a couple of times when both Harry or Regulus nearly mentioned the permission form to Sirius but they copped out at the last moment. Even when they were all sitting around the campfire in the evenings, Sirius telling stories, his baritone voice warm and light, there was always a spark of alertness in his eyes, an invisible tension between his shoulder blades that made him roll his shoulders more than he usually did.
And then, a week after Regulus's birthday, Harry had given him the book list. Regulus had asked the boy about it when they had breakfast, just to make sure that he didn't have to pre-order anything. His jaw must have dropped after skimming over the list because Harry was frowning at him when he looked up.
"Everything all right?"
"Sure," Regulus said. He turned around, the book list still in his hand.
There, under Defense Against the Dark Arts, was Remus Lupin's name.
When Sirius returned home from work that same evening, Regulus couldn't even hold back until his brother had peeled off his dark Auror cloak.
At first, Sirius's reaction to the news was very reserved, and yet there was a thin line twitching between his brows. "Funny," he said, but it didn't really sound like anything about Remus's new job was funny.
"Yeah, I thought so too," Regulus responded. "It just makes me wonder. Why is he taking the position? And why now?"
"Maybe he couldn't find anything else," Sirius said tonelessly. "You know it's hard for him." He crossed the small living room and walked into the kitchen, poured himself a glass of cucumber lemonade and added a couple of ice cubes.
Regulus leaned against the sofa. "I just find it odd. Aren't you worried that his condition may … affect his performance as a teacher?"
Sirius froze for a short moment. "No," he responded. From his glass of lemonade came the muffled sound of ice cubes crackling.
"Remus as Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher," Regulus said, and he felt his upper lip curling back slightly. It sounded like a bad joke, considering what had happened after Sirius's arrest.
Regulus had knocked on Remus's door every day after that fateful Halloween night in 1981.
He had paced up and down, knocked until his knuckles hurt, then roamed around the house like a stray dog before returning and lifting his already sore knuckles once more.
Cold rain lashed the side of his face and ran down his scalp, under his hair, and then down his neck. His sodden overcoat clung to his shoulders. Don't take this one, take your hooded coat. And don't forget your scarf, Sirius would have reminded in such a maternal tone that Regulus would have rolled his eyes. If Sirius were here now, he would shake his head, pull his heavy woolen scarf off, and roughly wrap it around Regulus's wet neck. Regulus would pretend to fight him off. Get off me, you brute! I'm allergic! And Sirius, he would slap the back of Regulus's head lightly, lips pressed together to hold back a smile.
Regulus lowered his head, clenched his teeth, knocked harder, hammered against the wooden door. It got painful after a while, and he stopped and took a step back to rub his knuckles with his left hand. He looked up at the ivy-covered wall of the house. The shutters were closed and yet Regulus thought that, upon his arrival, he had seen a faint light flickering in Remus's sparsely-furnished bachelor flat.
"Remus," Regulus called up, squinting into the half-darkness. "Remus, come on, open up!"
Nothing.
"I'm not gonna leave, you know! I'll stay here all day, all night, if I have to, it's not like I have anything better to do!" He raised his hand to shield his eyes from the relentless November rain. "It's either you let me in or the whole neighborhood will know why I'm here." He kicked the door with his boot, kicked it again. He was frustrated, so utterly frustrated. And angry, so angry that he wanted to tear the world apart, starting with that fucking prison. But first, he wanted this door to open, he wanted answers. He deserved answers.
"You can't ignore me forever," Regulus shouted. From the corner of his eyes, he saw the lights going on in the next house. He blinked his eyes. The rain was pelting against his forehead, little droplets getting caught in his lashes, blurring his sight. He knew that he must be looking like a madman to the muggles around, showing up every day and hammering on the door. He also knew that he had to leave before the muggle police turned up with their blaring sirens and blue lights.
Like on the other days, Regulus was not blessed with success that day. Later, when he returned home - their London flat cold and dark and deadly silent - he stopped when he passed Sirius's door. He had not entered his brother's room since his arrest. That day, however, he decided to have courage and open the door. Perhaps there was something in that room, a sign, a message, anything. When he opened the door, he was greeted by complete havoc. The aurors who had searched their house and particularly Sirius's room had even ripped down the tapestry in some places, desperate for any evidence that could lead to the arrest of more Death Eaters. They had turned the rest of the flat upside down as well but Kreacher had cleared most of the chaos. However, the elf was not allowed into Sirius's room. Sirius had forbidden it, threatening to free the elf should he disobey him. It was an order that Kreacher happily obeyed.
Regulus stood petrified in the doorway, goosebumps rising on his arms. The mattress lay across the metal bed frame, Sirius's blanket and pillow had been slit open and were spilling over with down feathers. Shards of glass covered the floor, glittering in the light which poured into the room from the corridor. The poster of a busty blond Muggle woman, which had hung on the inside of Sirius's closet door, lay crumpled up on the floor. A photo from last Christmas lay next to it, its wooden frame broken, and yet James and Sirius beamed at him, Lily and a slightly younger version of Regulus by their sides. Harry, barely half a year old, was in Lily's arms, and he only had eyes for Sirius. Lily had made antler headbands for all of them and Harry was about to pull the headband over Sirius's eyes. Regulus remembered punching James' arm after the man had called him his "deer-est snakelet" for the tenth time.
Regulus sank to his knees as he reached for the picture. Hot tears burned in his eyes. He couldn't believe they were all gone, just like that.
No. Not just like that. The look in Sirius's eyes when he had stumbled in through the door that night, mere seconds before his arrest - so broken. He was innocent, Regulus knew that, was sure of it. He just didn't know how.
He ground his teeth so much that his jaw ached, wiped his eyes with the back of his hand. He was not going to rest until he had an answer, until he had proof. And even if the answer came too late for James and Lily, it wasn't too late for Sirius. It wasn't too late for Harry.
Regulus had looked back at the picture. Harry's toothless smile, his eyes just like Lily's. Harry, too, had lost everyone. He, too, was all alone.
Nearly twelve years later, the echo of this time still sat deep in Regulus's bones. Not everything was forgiven and forgotten.
"Aren't you still… mad or at least disappointed in him?" Regulus asked. He and Sirius had barely talked about this over the last years.
It was strange. After Sirius's return from Azkaban, Remus hadn't been an enemy and yet he wasn't a friend anymore either. He was more like a ghost, someone Regulus greeted with a forced smile and a deep ache in his chest whenever he met Remus at the few Order meetings that had taken place after Voldemort's defeat. Otherwise, Remus had withdrawn so much that hardly anyone heard from him anymore, and Regulus could count on the fingers of one hand how many times he had spoken with Remus in the last ten years.
"Disappointed in who, Remus?" asked Sirius.
"Yeah."
Sirius leaned back in his chair. His T-shirt stretched as his shoulders fell back. He sipped at his lemonade, then raised the glass to his sunburned forehead with a sigh, the melting ice cubes clinking against one another. "Look, Reg, I don't know. I don't have more of an issue with him than he has with me. And anyway, I have other things to worry about." He tilted his head to look out of the window to see where Harry was. A smile touched his lips when he spotted the boy on his broom. Regulus could tell by the way Sirius sat up a little straighter that he would soon join Harry.
"I have not forgiven him," Regulus said.
Sirius looked at Regulus, quietly, contemplating his brother's statement.
Regulus turned away, took a deep breath. He remembered the letter Remus had sent him weeks later, when Regulus had stopped coming by his house and instead sent his elderly owl Owlbert to him. Apparently, Owlbert had been harder to ignore - which was not surprising considering Owlbert's overall pigheadedness - and finally, Regulus had received a response. His hands had been shaking when he opened the long-awaited letter and he had barely been able to breathe.
I understand your shock and your grief, I feel the same, and I understand your wish to deny what Sirius did, Remus had written, but we have to face the truth. Those words, Regulus had felt as though every single one of them was a small dagger, strategically placed to cut off whatever strings of friendship connected them. Remus did not trust him. You have no idea how much it pains me to send this letter. However, unless you are willing to accept this fact, I cannot help you.
Regulus had known, then, that he truly was all on his own.
"Imagine if he had believed me," Regulus said softly. "How different things would have been."
Sirius gulped down the rest of his lemonade, placed the glass on the table. A thin line had formed between his eyebrows. "You don't know that, Reg. They would have torn him apart if he had spoken up to defend me."
Regulus leaned back, crossed his arms in front of his chest. The thought of Remus had stirred up something deep inside him, something bitter. "So what. They did me too."
"He's a werewolf, Reggie. Him speaking up for me… it would have only made everything worse."
Regulus frowned. "You were in Azkaban, innocent! There's nothing worse than that! And everyone thought I was a Death Eater as well; the Aurors, the journalists, they were all digging for dirt!"
Sirius sighed. He was eyeing his empty glass of lemonade, how it reflected the afternoon sun, bent its rays apart and threw them as bundles of golden light onto the wooden table. "So what do you want me to say?"
"I don't want you to say that him supporting me would have made things worse."
"I didn't say that."
"You did."
Sirius groaned and rose to his feet. "I'll join Harry outside."
Sirius left, and Regulus watched through the windows as his brother picked up his broom and walked across the tall grass, his head cocked back, shielding his eyes from the sun with his free hand before he spotted Harry and mounted his broom.
Harry waved at Regulus as he flew past the open window. Regulus raised his hand, waved back, but he didn't manage to smile at the boy. In front of his inner eye, all he saw was the child Remus had abandoned. He knew that Harry would still be with the Dursleys if Regulus had given up on Sirius just like Remus had. And that was something he couldn't forget.
It was early in the following morning, and Sirius had tossed from side to side for the past few hours, sleeplessly, the sheets around him damp and sweaty. Ava lay beside him, soundly asleep, a white blanket wrapped around her middle. Her chest rose and fell slowly, a stream of moonlight ran across her shoulder blades. Her blond arm hair, which, during the day, looked like fine wisps of gold, shimmered silvery in the moonlight. Usually, Sirius was granted a sweet, deep sleep when he spent the night with her, but not today.
Even though Sirius knew that it was nearly impossible that Peter would find the cottage, he couldn't find any rest. The idea of it was too much of a nightmare to fall asleep again. Ultimately, this thought - like a thorn pressing into his side - forced him to sit up. Carefully he stepped over Ava and got dressed. As he slipped into his boots, her eyes opened and she looked at him, quietly, almost as if she were dreaming on with her eyes open. He kissed her hair one last time, the smell of shampoo and a faint trace of motor oil hitting his nose. He promised to be back soon, although he did not know if it would be hours or months. She did not question him either; she knew that he always kept his promises.
The morning stars were dimming out, and the sky was lightening behind the mountains that surrounded the valley. Sirius was walking across the meadow, the tall grass brushing his shins. The cottage was not far anymore. Light was shining from the living room window, a warm glow behind closed curtains.
He took his shoes off before he opened the front door, tiptoed inside. The cottage was small and there was no entrance room, the front door opened directly into the small living room area. Regulus and Harry were both fast asleep, the woolen couch throw barely covering Harry, who had curled up in one of the old hide-covered recliners. Regulus lay sprawled out on the threadbare sofa. The furniture was decades old, they had barely changed anything after inheriting the cottage from Mr. and Mrs. Potter. Sometimes Sirius thought that it still smelled like them - a trace of leather and lavender in the air.
For a few minutes, Sirius simply stood there, rooted to the spot, and watched his family, a sense of warmth spreading inside him like the morning sun, making him feel whole and calm. He looked at Harry, thought how small the teenager looked, all curled up. Every day, he reminded him more of James. James, too, had sat curled up in the very same recliner some twenty years ago, and now it was Harry, nearly a carbon copy of his father if it weren't for the lightning bolt scar on his forehead, sleeping in James' favorite recliner.
Sirius stepped across the boxes of boardgames which were piled up on the floor, walked over to Harry, and gently pulled the blanket up to the boy's chest where it had slipped down. If Harry were a couple years younger, Sirius wouldn't have hesitated to scoop him into his arms and carry him to bed. And, while Sirius knew that he was still more than capable of doing so - at least as far as Harry was concerned - Harry would wake and he wouldn't appreciate being carried at all. And while Sirius would wake up all stiff and aching after sleeping in the recliner, Harry was young, he was going to be fine.
Sirius bit the inside of his cheek as he lowered himself onto the carpet, stretched out his legs and leaned against the sofa with his back. He was careful not to get too close to Regulus so as not to accidentally wake him. They looked so soft like this, both of them, and he did not want to disturb this peaceful picture. He could do this forever, watch them sleep - it was a rare occurrence these days, both of them asleep like this, and Sirius, watching over them. It made him wonder if there was a particular reason why they had stayed up. Perhaps Harry had had a nightmare. Usually, it was Sirius who took care of that, who comforted the child and cheered him up, who stayed up as long as it took for Harry to fall asleep once more. Reg wasn't as easy to wake, and he was groggy right after being roused. Perhaps it was Sirius's absence that had made Regulus stay up with Harry.
He had to swallow at that thought. He knew he had been absent a lot over the last weeks, and both by his absence but also by his presence, he had been hard on them. Especially on Harry, but on Reg too, Reg simply knew better how to deal with Sirius's moods, with his anxiety.
"I've had a lifetime of practice," Regulus had said once, smiling that half-smile of his which made Sirius feel like he was forgiven for all the mistakes he had made with his younger brother.
Sirius glanced at Regulus. His brother was lying on his stomach, his left arm hanging from the sofa, his fingertips just an inch away from the floor. His was dreaming, his eyelids were moving rapidly, and his breathing was deep, slow, regular. Lying there like this, sleeping, his features so soft and relaxed, he reminded Sirius of the child he had once been.
Sirius twisted his arm back, his hand hovering over Regulus's forehead. He dared to lower his forefinger slowly, tracing along his brother's temple where his charcoal black hair was slightly receding.
Regulus's sleep-flushed face twisted and he blindly threw his hand up as if he were swatting away a fly. Sirius quickly withdrew his hand, a grin parting his mustache and beard as he held his breath to stay as quiet as possible. Regulus sighed and turned to his side, then exhaled deeply, his features relaxing as sleep pulled him under once more.
Sirius thought about what Reg had said, how he had held Harry's book list with Remus's name on it up, presented it to Sirius as though it were some critical piece of evidence that would convict Remus of a crime. He let you down, I know, Sirius had wanted to say, but I let you down too. But to say that out loud, he was afraid he might speak something into existence.
The remaining nights cooled down one after the other, and through the open window, they could hear the wind blowing through the high meadow which surrounded the house. Even if the basilisk still haunted Harry again and again in his dreams, Sirius had not spent another night with Ava, which meant that he was always there, waiting, and he never seemed to sleep.
"There's my little night owl," Sirius smiled when Harry entered the living room for the third night in a row, lowering the magazine on muggle motorcycling that he'd been reading. He was not the least surprised by Harry's appearance.
Harry curled up on the sofa, drawing the couch throw up to his chest but sticking his feet out. "Don't you ever get tired?"
"Tired yes, but I couldn't sleep," Sirius said, setting the magazine on the coffee table. The motorbike on the title page looked like a modern descendant of Sirius's motorbike, except that it looked sharper and far less friendly. "What did you dream about?"
"Basilisk," Harry mumbled, rubbing his eyes. He did not like to talk about his nightmares. "You?"
Sirius rose to his feet. "I didn't sleep yet, pup."
"Oh. You should at least try." Harry felt a bit bad, he had the feeling that Sirius was staying up for him. But he did not dare to ask if this was the case because Sirius would deny it anyway, and Harry also didn't want Sirius to stop waiting for him, even though he knew that perhaps it was selfish of him. There was a comfort in knowing that, even if the basilisk was stalking his dreams, Sirius was waiting in the living room.
Sirius rose to his feet, his knees cracking as he did so. "All right, I'll try. How about a hot chocolate first, though?"
Harry nodded. A golden warmth spread through his chest. "Siri?" he asked, craning his head to look at his godfather.
"Hmm?"
"Love you."
Sirius was already halfway to the kitchen. He grinned, his teeth a flash of pearly white. He walked back to Harry, wrapped a brawny arm around his shoulders, drew him close and placed a wet kiss on Harry's forehead. The boy to screwed up his face and wiped the spot with the back of his hand.
Sirius' voice was a warm rumble. "Love you too."
It was one of those late August days, hot with an undertone of danger. Rough clouds clung to the tops of the mountains on both sides of the lake. Regulus had unfolded a wood-and-canvas deck chair in the shadow of the house and was watching Harry and Sirius while reading a potions journal. The two sat next to the motorcycle in the midst of all sorts of mechanical tools. Regulus had to give it to Sirius, they did look professional. He had given Sirius an expensive Muggle toolbox for his thirtieth birthday but Sirius used the tools with the same level of elegance as if he were trying to eat rice with chopsticks for the first time in his life.
Regulus smirked at the thought that, when Harry had been much younger and asked Sirius what he was doing when he was visiting Ava, Sirius's standard response had been that Ava was giving him lessons on how to tune his motorbike. Even after all these years, Sirius's knowledge on how to fix or tune his motorbike was mostly fake and if something was broken, he patched it up with magic when Harry wasn't looking before eventually capitulating and passing by Ava's garage.
Harry sat next to Sirius, his knees drawn up, catching grass between his toes and pulling it from the ground. Sirius had slung his shirt around his neck and yet his upper body was so pale in contrast to his tan face and forearms that it almost looked as if he were clothed. He was talking nonsense about the motorbike, threw in random technical terms that he had picked up from Ava. Both Harry and Regulus made interested faces and commented "Ooh" and "Aah" even though an ironic "fascinating" escaped Regulus once, which caused Harry to cover his mouth with his hand to hide his grin. Their eyes met and they gave each other a knowing smile.
"Reg, pass me the… the…" Sirius waved his hand, "you know, the long tool."
Regulus's lips twisted, amused. "The long tool? Which long tool?"
"That long one over there, next to the toolbox."
Regulus glanced down at the ratcheting socket wrench, which Sirius was fixating with his eyes. It lay just within his arm's reach. He picked up a hammer. "This?"
"No, the other one."
"Oh, you mean the screwdriver?"
Sirius sighed.
"A name would help," grinned Regulus, eyeing the ratchet with a glint in his eyes.
"The… what's-it-called, the … !" Sirius clicked his tongue, pointed his finger at the ratchet, stabbing the air. "Right next to you, to your left!"
"The what's-it-called?"
"You know exactly what I mean!"
"I'm not the expert here," said Regulus sweetly.
Sirius pointed his finger at him, his eyebrows drawn together. "You," he couldn't help the grin that split his face, "you give it to me now or I'll come over."
"Scary." Regulus crossed his arms behind his head. "Why don't you accio it?"
Sirius drew his wand. "Accio…" he smacked his lips together once, trying his hardest to remember what the tool was called.
Regulus smirked. "Try accio brains."
Harry snorted. "Or accio what's-it-called!"
Sirius pushed himself up, wiped his oily hands on his blue jeans. Then he marched over to Regulus and locked his arm around the younger man's neck despite Regulus's attempts to twist away but he was laughing too hard. They wrestled playfully for a minute until Sirius had dragged Regulus off the deck chair and gently pushed him into the grass. He picked up the ratchet and plopped down next to Harry once more.
Harry gave him a mischievous look.
"One more word about it and you'll get the same treatment," Sirius said, tapping Harry's nose.
Later, when Harry had gotten bored of watching Sirius work on the motorbike and had went inside to get his broom, Sirius produced his wand with a sigh and waved it, causing the remaining screws to tighten on their own. "I better get this finished. It's gonna start raining soon."
Regulus looked up at the clouds which were getting darker and darker behind the mountains. Perhaps now was the time to tell him about the Hogsmeade permission slip, Sirius seemed to be in a good mood after all. "Sirius…"
Sirius looked at him. He knew that tone, the hesitation after Reg said his name, it was like a glowing warning signal, so bright and clear that he had to suppress the impulse to squint his eyes. However, he said nothing, calmly returning Regulus's gaze.
"You know that the third years are allowed to have a trip to Hogsmeade every few weeks."
Sirius looked away now.
"Harry has received a permission form which we need to sign."
Sirius was quiet. The longer his silence persisted, the more it seemed as if the air between them was becoming electrically charged. "You know that Peter is still out there," Sirius said finally.
"I know. But nobody knows how much longer until he gets caught and, in all honesty -"
"What?"
If he even gets caught was what lingered on the tip of Regulus's tongue but he didn't say it out loud. "At some point, we gotta return to some sort of normality."
"Not at any cost. And especially not this cost - do you really think that a couple of trips to Hogsmeade are worth risking Harry's life?"
Regulus released his breath slowly. He now cursed himself for bringing the topic up. Apparently, he had misjudged Sirius's mood. Whenever Sirius went down that line of argument, it was hard to convince him otherwise.
"There are teachers at Hogsmeade during these weekends. It's not like the students are on their own there."
Sirius gave him a pointed look. "Have you met Harry before? Or shall I introduce you to him?"
Regulus rolled his eyes.
"He's about this tall," Sirius held out his flat hand, "James' spitting image, and - oh, I nearly forgot: he nearly got himself killed twice at Hogwarts over the last years when there were dozens of teachers around. So forgive me, but I don't think -"
"I get it okay. But he's older now. More responsible. We can trust him to stay safe and not wander off."
"Well, I disagree." Sirius placed the tools, which lay scattered around him, back into the toolbox.
Regulus frowned. "Just like that? No discussion, nothing?"
"Yup."
"How about we find a compromise?"
"No." Sirius wiped his oily hands on a dirty rag. He had sat too long in the blazing sun, and his previously white back wore a flushed color.
Regulus crossed his arms in front of his chest. "So what if I'm not willing to compromise on the issue either?"
Sirius raised an eyebrow at him. Then he picked up his toolbox and walked in the direction of the front door, his shoulders tense once more.
It was the next morning, and the air smelled like rain and wet lavender. They had barely finished breakfast when Harry finally asked the question that had been on his lips since he had gotten up.
"Have you asked him?" Even though Harry's voice was soft, it seemed to cut through the silence in the kitchen. They were alone; Sirius was at work.
Regulus had to suppress a groan. Why was it always he who had to be the bearer of bad news? He was sick of having to defend a decision he hadn't made. He looked at Harry, saw the boy's face fall.
"He said no, didn't he?"
Regulus sighed. "Look, he…"
Harry shook his head, eyes blazing suddenly. "It's always the same."
"What?"
"He doesn't trust me. He thinks I need to be wrapped up in cotton wool."
Regulus contemplated that. Harry wasn't wrong; if Sirius thought that cotton wool would protect Harry from harm, he would have no qualms about wrapping the boy in from head to toe. "I know he can seem uncompromising at times."
"He always is." Harry's voice had a bitter edge to it.
"He loves you. More than anything."
"So what, he doesn't trust me. He probably thinks I'm stupid enough to cross paths with Peter Pettigrew and get myself killed."
"He doesn't think you're stupid."
Harry wrapped his arms around his chest. He looked deeply hurt suddenly. "Then why doesn't he trust me?"
Regulus walked over to the boy, wrapped his arms around him. "He does. He just… that's how he is. He's too scared to lose us, that's why he feels like he can't rely on trust alone."
Harry sniffled. "I just feel so stupid when he treats me like that. Like I know nothing, like it doesn't matter what I do."
Regulus leaned back slightly, placed a finger under the boy's chin. "Listen Harry, you're not stupid and what you do does matter. Sirius has his own problems, he's got his reasons for acting like that, even though I don't think that they're good reasons. But you gotta remember that it's not you who made him like that. Okay?"
Harry nodded against Regulus's finger. "What reasons?"
Regulus offered the boy a smile. A full answer would take hours and it meant to break Sirius's trust in the worst way possible. "Perhaps I was a bit too troublesome when I was a teenager," he deflected. "It's a miracle to me how Sirius doesn't have a head full of white hair yet."
Harry looked at him curiously. He loved to hear stories about Regulus and Sirius and how they had been when they had been his age. What he did not know was that they left most of the dark details of their past unsaid. Neither of them wanted Harry to know about all the tears that had been cried at Grimmauld Place, nor did Regulus want Harry to know that he had been determined to join Voldemort's Death Eaters when he had been his age. And Sirius, well… Azkaban was a time of darkness for him, and he did not want its darkness to touch Harry.
"Why," Regulus grinned at the boy's curious glance, "believe it or not, but I got in more trouble in two months than you do in a year. I'm not as boring as you think!"
Harry laughed at that. "I bet you were just like Hermione. She sneaks out of bed and breaks curfew just to find a book in the library or whatever."
Regulus ruffled Harry's hair. "I'm sure you would never do that."
Harry playfully swatted Regulus's hand away. "Not for a bloody school book!"
"I see."
Harry pushed a hand through his hair. Slowly, his smile faded. "That still doesn't change the fact that he doesn't trust me."
"I trust you."
Harry took a small step back and looked at Regulus for a long moment. "So you'll allow it?"
"What?"
"For me to go to Hogsmeade? If you trust me?"
Regulus hesitated but then he placed his hands on both sides of Harry's face, looked the boy directly in the eye. "When I talked to Sirius, I've made it clear that, if he isn't willing to compromise, I'm not willing to compromise either."
A wide smile split Harry's face. He opened his mouth but Regulus placed a finger on the boy's lips, shushing him.
"I want one thing to be clear: I'm putting all my trust in you here. Don't make me regret this decision. And don't do anything that will make Sirius find out about it."
"I won't! I swear, I won't!" Harry was bouncing up and down with excitement.
"All right." Regulus removed his hands from Harry's face. He drew his wand, accioed the Hogsmeade permission slip, unfolded it. "Find me a pen, will you."
Tbc…
A/N: I feel like I can't say it enough but I wanna thank all my guest reviewers on here. Please know that, even though I can't respond to your reviews individually, I appreciate you all so much.