REGULUS

I lay on my back in bed, on top of the blankets still fully dressed, staring at the canopy over my bead. My hands were folded neatly on my chest. Through the floorboards, I could hear voices rumbling up from downstairs - the meeting was going on, but all I could think about was the body of Dierks Bell laying on the floor in the library.

Was he still there?

What did he do that was so bad that had deserved being killed like that?

The Lord Voldemort said he had done something bad - that he was a bad, bad man. I remembered Mother and Father talking to Uncle Alphard at the dinner table when he'd last visited, remembered the way Uncle Alphard had snapped and yelled angry words at Father. I couldn't remember exactly what he had said, only that he had said that Father was going to end up dead... Had he been threatening Father? Was Dierks Bell the person who would have killed my Father if the Lord Voldemort had not killed Dierks first? Perhaps the Lord Voldemort had really saved Father.

There was a crack and I heard Kreacher's breathing and dragging shuffle of his large feet on the floorboards. 

"Kreacher has been sent to play gobstones with Master Regulus," the elf said croakily. I heard the sound of the chairs at the play table scrape the floor and the gobstones set opened with a creak, the marbles inside clinking against one another.

"I don't want to play anymore," I murmured.

Kreacher was quiet, the stones continued clinking as he set up the board, regardless of me saying I didn't want to play. I just stared and stared at the ceiling, my brain repeatedly swirling the sight of Dierks Bell's eyes as the blood and life went out of him.

It was hours later, I had fallen asleep and woken up from nightmares several times over, when the bedroom door opened and Mother slid through a narrow wedge she opened. I blinked at her silhouette as she came across the room. "You're still awake," she said quietly.

I nodded.

Kreacher had fallen asleep on the play table chair, waiting for me to go and play gobstones with him. He'd been commanded to play gobstones with me and was bound by magic to wait until I'd either played or given him an order to leave, which I hadn't done.

Mother came over and sat on the edge of my bed, turned to look down at me. "You haven't even undressed yet," she murmured, and she reached for my tie, undoing the knot gently with her fingers and sliding it off from around my neck. She lay it over the post on the footboard. Mother turned back to look at me, leaning over me against one extended arm and brushed the curls of my hair back from my forehead, staring down into my eyes. "I know what you saw today was very, very scary."

I didn't answer, I just stared up into her eyes. 

"The Lord Voldemort is trying to make things better in the magical community," Mother said quietly. "He seeks to make improvements that will strengthen and enrich the wizarding world for the greater good... for all of us." She paused and pressed her fingertip against the very tip of my nose. "It's hard for you to understand what is happening, I know, being so young... and I know that what happened today... it seemed heartless and cruel... but, as the Lord said to you... there was justice that was served here today."

"He was a bad man?" I asked.

"Yes," Mother said quietly. "He was a bad man. A very bad man."

"So Lord Voldemort... saved us... from him?"

"Yes, Regulus," she said.

"So the Lord Voldemort... he's... a good man?"

There was the slightest hesitation - but then she answered, "Yes, my darling, a good man. And one day, you will be older and you will live in a changed world - a world where things are better, safer for wizards of all sorts - and it will be all because of him."

"Are there many other bad men like Dierks Bell, Mummy?" I asked.

Mother's thumb ran across my cheek, consoling, "Now, yes. But one day... one day the Lord Voldemort will have made the bad men go away," she said, her voice quiet as she promised.

I lay there, letting her stroke my hair, letting her words absorb into me. I liked the feeling of her fingernails on my scalp - it was soothing - and she hummed quietly, soothingly, a lullaby she sang to me each night to tuck me in. I felt my eyes growing heavy as I listened to the words of the song.

After several long moments, she said, quietly, "I was very proud of how strong you were today, darling." Her fingers were caressing my forehead.

"You were?" I asked, my eyes fluttering open.

She nodded, smiling, and her hand slipped down to cup my cheek. I nuzzled against her palm. "Very. You stood your ground, you showed no fear at all. The Lord was very impressed, my darling."

"But if the Lord is a good man," I asked, "Why ought to I have been afraid?"

"As long as you always do what you are told, Regulus, you needn't ever be."

"Yes Mother," I said.

She bent down and kissed my forehead. I closed my eyes to receive her kiss.

"Your brother was afraid," she said.

"He was?" I asked, opening my eyes.

"Mhm," she answered.

I said, "Maybe we should go talk to Sirius and let him know that he doesn't need to be afraid of the Lord Voldemort." I sat up, but Mother shook her head.

"Shhh," she said, "Shh. You relax honey. Your Father is going to talk to Sirius."

"Oh. Okay. Good."

She paused, and then said, "In fact, you should not talk to Sirius about what happened tonight."

"I shouldn't?"

"No," she answered, and her words were slow, carefully chosen, "Sirius is afraid of Lord Voldemort, Regulus, he doesn't understand that the things Lord Voldemort did tonight are good. Sirius would not understand - he is not as smart as you are."

I nodded, understanding.

"So let's not scare him anymore than he's already been... okay?"

"Okay."

"Good boy." Mother smiled at me. "Let's get you into your pyjamas and properly tucked in, shall we?"

"Alright," I answered.

"Kreacher," Mother said, and she turned and nudged the sleeping house elf with her foot. "Kreacher, wake up and fetch Regulus's pyjamas."

Kreacher's bublous eyes struggled to open and he sleepily sat up and clicked his fingers, the drawer of my dresser opened up and the pyjamas flew across the room. I got up and changed while Mother turned down my bedding. "Go and finish your evening chores, Kreacher - and before you go to sleep, go and check on your Master Sirius and see to whatever he needs done."

"Yes Mistress," Kreacher replied, and with a snap of his fingers, he was gone from the play table, leaving the gobstones still set up.

I looked up at Mother and though I wondered what Sirius might need done so late at night, I did not ask, but simply crawled up onto my bed and let her tuck me in - once again, singing the lullaby as she did.

SIRIUS

I was laying on my bed flipping through Fantastic Beasts and Where To Find Them - an illustrated edition with full page diagrams, water colored with bright hues. I was staring at an entry on demiguises and watching the diagram appear and then fade, going transparent, as I watched before flickering back into view. I shuddered when all that remained on the page was the glowing eyes of the demiguise. It was too similar to the vision of the bad man's eyes as he glared down at me. Quickly, I turned the page to find a more pleasant fantastic beast to look at.

The door banged open, giving me a start, and I sat upright. Father walked across the room, grabbed hold of my elbow, yanked me from the bed and threw me onto the floor with force. I hit the hard wood floor and tumbled over myself before I scrambled to sit up, staring up at him with confusion.

"You ought to be good and well ashamed of yourself," he growled angrily, "I am ashamed of you. What an embarrassment you were to the House of Black today!"

"I - I didn't even do anything!" I said, defensively. 

"You showed weakness!" he shouted. "Weakness to the Lord Voldemort."

I stared up at him. The word Lord rang in my mind a moment before I realized why - where I was remembering it from. "Is he the one that Uncle Alphard said was going to murder you?"

I flinched as Father stepped forward like a raging bull, quickly crossing the room - I thought he was going to backhand me, but instead he scoffed and said darkly, "Do not mention that swine in my presence again."

"But - "

"No buts. I should have killed him when I had the chance."

"But is that who - who he was talking about?" I stammered, pieces falling into place in my mind as I thought of the horrible burgundy eyes and the sinister echo of Alphard's voice.

The Dark Lord your father bows to, Little Man, the evil bastard that'll gut you head to toe as soon as look at you - in the name of the greater good that he doesn't really give a flying dung sample about. The Dark Lord that's nothin' but a spineless hypocrite.

I felt my stomach twist and I wished I hadn't eaten the plate of food that Kreacher had brought up to me about dinner time, when Father and Mother were entertaining their guests at the meeting downstairs. 

The range in my Father's face now was just as intense as it had been that day when Alphard had been there and his nose flared with it now as he glowered at me. "I warn you, Sirius Orion Black," he said darkly, "I warn you that you are to watch your tongue and mind yourself. Another poor performance like this one and the Lord may very well kill you on the spot."

But that's exactly what Uncle Alphard had warned me about him, wasn't it?

"And if the Lord does not do it, I just may." 

There are times when I wonder whether we would be best off if you were the one who were the spare, rather than Regulus, Father's words echoed in my head. You're just like him, he had said, he ought to have been disowned - or killed - for what he is.

I trembled. "Father --"

"As it is," he said darkly, pausing to roll up his sleeves into neat cuffs before drawing his wand, "I must teach you a lesson that, hopefully, next time you shan't forget."

I sat on the squat chair that went to the play table I hadn't used in ages. Kreacher stood on the table itself beside a box of potions. He held a cloth dampened with murtlap oil again the spot where my skin had been broken and blistered, where the magic had entered my body, just above my abdomen.

I winced as he peeled the cloth back, inspected the wound as he wrung the cloth out, and then redrenched it in fresh murtlap oil before turning back to replace it. The murtlap oil stung terribly and I bit my lower lip, letting out a whimper.

Kreacher clucked his tongue. "The little Master thinks he is wronged, but Kreacher knows all about punishments, yes... Kreacher understands how punishments work... When one does as one ought to do, one is not punished."

"I didn't do anything wrong," I muttered.

Kreacher's eyes studied me for a moment, his sneering ugly face steady without an ounce of pity upon it. He pressed the oil soaked cloth a bit harder and I swatted at his hand angrily as he drew back, then pressed it down again at a normal pressure. 

"The way punishments work, little Master, is that when Master Orion or Mistress Walburga tell you to do something you're to do it or else you are punished when you do not do as the Master or Mistress have said to do. If Master says to Kreacher that Kreacher is to do something, Kreacher does it right away and if Kreacher does not, then Kreacher must be punished... and if Kreacher's Mistress says for Kreacher to do something and Kreacher does not do it, then Kreacher must be punished." He paused, allowing that to sink in, then finished, "If Master Sirius does not wish to be punished, then he must do what he is told."

"I didn't do anything wrong," I insisted.

Kreacher stared at me for several long seconds, and then he said, lowly, "The little Master is a liar."

I hated him. I hated him so much. I pushed him off me and watched him fall off the play table. I had no sympathy as he rolled to regain his footing. Instead, I tore the cloth from his hands and grabbed the bowl of murtlap oil and I carried them out the door to the landing.

Regulus's door was closed and I could hear Mother's voice, singing to him.

Tears burned my eyes and I took to the steps, headed up to the attic room, the murtlap splashing in the bowl. I pushed opened the attic door and closed it carefully. It was so cold, I could feel the cold in my bones, in my bare feet, in my fingers. Breath rose up from my mouth in shimmering clouds. I put the bowl of murtlap down on a small table and shoved the cloth into it, taking it back out dripping wet with the oil and holding it to my side under my shirt. As I held onto it, I paced, my feet stinging with every step on the ice-cold floor.

I stopped at the window, staring out over the square below.

Street lamps glowed, a slight fog caught in their yellow glow. A breeze came through that whistled through the rafters around me. A muggle man was standing outside in the square with a dog on a leash, patting down his own arms in cold as the dog sniffed about, doing its business. I watched him, watched the dog, and wondered what it must be like to be either of them - the man or the dog, whichever - and to be free of the pressures that seemed to seize me up just then.

I thought about my Latin lessons from earlier in the day.

"Purus parit purus," I whispered.

The muggle man walked across the square and up the stoop of Number 6, disappearing inside the townhouse.

My head ached as I backed away from the window, clutching the murtlap cloth. I dropped it into the bowl - the oil inside had turned a murky blood color mixed with the pasty yellow it had been before it had been sullied by my blood. I stared at it, mixing together, and I pictured blood mixing with blood. Was muggle blood a different color than wizard blood? I wondered. How could one tell where the wizard blood began and where muggle blood began, once it was mixed?

I left the cloth and went to he clubhouse, kneeling down and crawling inside.

The blankets were exactly where we'd left them, and the bag of animal crackers from Uncle Alphard lay amongst the pillows, half eaten. I crawled under the blankets, shivering, and lay myself down, curled into a ball, refusing to allow my eyes to sprout tears, despite how terrible I felt.

I had a nightmare that I'd lost the control of my limbs again, just like I had done in the library when I'd been summoned to come over. My body was doing all sorts of things under the control of some invisible force in my nightmare, and I screamed for it to stop - but it kept on doing awful things until I finally awoke, panicked and sobbing.

"Please, please," I begged the darkness.

I was shocked when I opened my eyes to find I wasn't alone in the clubhouse anymore. Regulus lay curled up against me, and I stared at the top of his sleeping head. Like this, one could almost fall for the idea that he was innocent. But I knew better.

I lay there beside him, panting, trying to regain my breath.

"Sirius?"

I looked down at him. He lay beside me, staring up at me. "Yes?"

"What happened to your side?"

I shook my head, "Nothing, Little Brother," I answered.

He stared at me.

"I fell on the stairs," I lied.

Regulus frowned.

"I'm all right," I lied again.

Silence stretched between us.

"Sirius?"

"Yes, Little Brother?"

"Tell me the story."

I didn't know if I had it in me. But then again, he usually only ever came to me if he was scared - seeking comfort. So I decided to be strong for him, despite my own fears and pain, and I said, after a moment thinking about it, "Once upon a time, there was a dog named Snuffles..."

Regulus smiled and wrapped his arms carefully around my torso, being very aware of the placement of my wound, careful not to disturb it.

"...he was a very shaggy dog, with lots of black hair all over," I said, hugging Regulus back, "He liked to play outside and get dirty and rol labout and chase birds and stuff. He liked to bark and sleep on the carpet in front of the fire inside the house where his family lived. There was nothing like a good nap, Snuffles thought, and he rather enjoyed it a lot, especially when the family had the fire on and there was lots of warm blankets to lay about on."

Regulus said, "Warm blankets are the best."

"They are," I agreed, and I wished the ones we were curled up under were the sort that were warmed by magic like the ones on our beds. "Snuffles blankets were always warm."

"I'm glad," Regulus said.

"He was, too," I nodded.

Regulus was already falling asleep, curling ever closer to me as he did. He yawned when he asked, "What does Snuffles dream about, Sirius? Sausages?"

"Usually," I said quietly. Then, I added, "But this one time he had a nightmare and he was really, really afraid."

Regulus looked up at me. "He was?"

"Yeah," I said, thinking that Regulus ought to know that it was okay if he was afraid, "And Snuffles went and he found the little boy who lived in his family and the little boy hugged Snuffles round the neck and told him it would be alright and that he didn't need to be afraid."

There was a long pause.

"Then Snuffles could go back to sleep," I murmured, thinking Regulus might already have done.

I was surprised when he sat up, wrapped his arms around my neck and said, "It'll be alright, Big Brother... You don't need to be afraid."

I hadn't realized how much I needed to hear it until he'd said it, and I felt tears running down my cheeks as he lay his little cheek against my chest as he sank back into the pillows.