"Actually what I said was bless you." 

Sirius stood before the portrait of Regulus Black, cigarette loosely hanging from his lip, staring up at it with a dumbfounded expression. The portrait stared back at him for several long moments, eyebrow raised. Then, finally, Sirius stammered, "I distinctly recall you saying gesundheit and me thinking that it was utterly ridiculous how you always have to use the fanciest way of speaking, even when you're bloody dead!" 

"Well you're distinctly recalling incorrectly," Regulus's portrait argued.

"I am not you ickle sodcake!"

"You most certainly are, I'm telling you, I didn't say gesundheight! And further more, you're the idiot that always has to speak funny, not me. You're the king of dramatic dialogue!"

"I am not."

"Are, too!"

"Not, not, not!"

"Are! You're always so bleeding dramatic, you can't do even the simplest things without being an utter and complete mess of dramatics - flinging yourself about and all!" Regulus said, rolling his eyes.

"Don't be smart, if I'm being dranatic its because it's been merited and -- don't you roll your eyes at me or I'll hex you so they stick that way just like Mother always promised," I said, raising my wand.

Portrait Regulus said, "Well hang on, that's not very fair! You pointing at me with your wand like that."

"And why not?"

"Because! It's our childhood all over again, isn't it? You threatening innocent, unarmed ickle me --"

"Unarmed! Draw your want then!"

"I can't! Sirius, for Merlin's sake, you might've noticed I've been drawn with out any arms so that I am - quite literally - unarmed."

Sirius paused, lowering his wand slowly, to stare at the portrait. Then, with a chuckle, he muttered, "Well I'll be damned."

And then he and the portrait both burst into laughter. Sirius lost his cigarette in all this and it fell to the floor and rolled under the bed, where Peter Pettigrew stared at it with wide-eyes, expecting Sirius to bend down to pick it up, and he hurriedly flicked it with his forefinger to make it roll back out from under so that if he did pick it up at least there was an inkling of a chance he wouldn't look underneath. Sweat prickled across Peter's forehead.

"I am kidding, by the way," Portrait-Regulus said after a few moments of mirth, "I do have arms." He backed up and held up his arms, waving them proudly, "But you got to bloody admit that was a really funny prank, yeah?"

"The best."

Portrait-Regulus stared down at Sirius and Sirius stared up at him and then suddenly Sirius was climbing up on the nightstand.

"What are you doing?" Portrait-Regulus asked, "Bleeding hell, you'll fall and break your damned head off - and what am I going to do about it? Absolutely nothing, that's what, I'm a portrait!"

"Shut up and get down here so we can talk properly," Sirius answered, standing on his tip-toes to reach the frame and grabbing onto the post of the bed only just barely before tipping over and fulfilling the portrait's words. 

Portrait-Regulus shook his head in disapproval, but Sirius managed it and when he'd gotten the portrait off the wall, he jumped neatly onto the bed from the nightstand instead of getting down, falling onto the mattress. He leaned the portrait against the pillows and grabbed Regulus's watch from the nightstand before settling back, legs criss-crossed, and faced the portrait, holding Regulus's watching his hand. He squeezed the glow button firmly and looked up at the portrait. 

"Can you really see that?" he asked, holding up the watch.

Portrait-Regulus shrugged, "I don't know."

"Are you happy, wherever you are?" Sirius asked.

Portrait-Regulus shrugged again, "I - I hope so."

"I hope so, too," Sirius answered. He leaned so his elbows were on his knees and the watch was held to his heart, still glowing, his thumb holding the button steady. He rocked himself a bit, staring at the portrait and biting his lips between his teeth.

There was so much he wanted to say, he didn't know where to begin, and he didn't know that he would be able to stop once he started if he did. 

"I thought of you today," he said.

Portrait-Regulus just stared at him without saying anything. He looked guarded, like he often did when Sirius had talked to him after they'd gotten to a certain age. The year between when Sirius had gotten his Hogwart's letter for his eleventh birthday and that following September, when he'd actually gotten to go to the school had been full of conversations with this guarded expression on Regulus's face... really, maybe even a bit before that.

"What about me?" Portrait-Regulus asked.

"James Potter and I were at the World Cup - well it's tomorrow, really, but we were at the camping area for the night, you know, and we were in this town called the Place of Invisible Sheep --"

"What? Why is it called that?"

"Because of the secrecy charms," Sirius said, "Muggles thought their sheep disappeared when they wandered over the line of the secrecy charms."

Portrait-Regulus's lips twitched with amusement.

"I know, right?" Sirius said, seeing the laughter he was holding back. Then, in a funny voice, he said, "Oi there, where's my sheep? He's done gone invisible he has!"

Portrait-Regulus snorted and a big grin spread over his face, his eyes sparkling with amusement, "Muggles are so dumb."

There was a pause. Sirius stared at the portrait, a funny feeling sort of turning over in his stomach - a protective sort of feeling... for the muggles. Suddenly, he didn't want to make fun of the muggles for missing their sheep anymore. So he changed the subject, shoving away that twist in his belly.

"Anyway,  I thought of that time Father took us to the World Cup. Do you remember?"

Portrait-Regulus nodded slowly, "Yeah... Honestly, life memories are a little hard still for me. Everything seems sort of... faded and far away..." the Portrait paused, then said, "Partly transparent, almost, in my mind."

Sirius nodded. "I s'pose it takes time. You talking already is a pretty big deal. You know Ned Veigler's portrait still doesn't hold whole conversations? Back at Christmas he said his first words, talking to Remus, and he's been getting better, Remus says that's what Elva says anyway, but not completely sentient, so, like, good on you, yeah? You're talking full sentences and everything."

Portrait-Regulus considered this, and said, "I suppose there are reasons. I can't really... it's like my mouth can't speak them, but... I suppose I know the reason why I've been quicker about it. But... I don't know. I can't speak it outloud to you for some reason. It's like I remember but also like I don't."

Sirius's brows came together, concerned. He squeezed the watch again, realizing that his thumb had slipped off the button at some point.

"What reminded you of me at the World Cup?"

"Well, the invisible sheep."

"Why?"

"Because I realized... When we went to the World Cup... it was thestrals. That's what the French mascot was. Thestrals. That's what upset you so much."

Portrait-Regulus nodded. "I see. Invisible sheep reminded you of the invisible horses."

"Yeah." Sirius paused. Then, "You could see them."

Portrait-Regulus thought about it, then said, "Yes, I suppose I could."

Sirius shook his head, his nose flaring slightly, "You were only six. I couldn't see them. Why could you see them and I couldn't?"

Portrait-Regulus stared at Sirius very long and he said, "I mean, you know why people can see thestrals, Sirius. I don't have to give you a lesson on how thestrals work."

Sirius rocked himself harder. "But... but why could you see them?" he paused. "When did you see somebody die?"

Portrait-Regulus shrugged.

Sirius said quietly, "I was supposed to protect you from stuff like that. I failed you, Little Brother."

Portrait-Regulus was quiet. Then, "I doubt very much that you ever once failed me, Sirius."

"I failed you loads and loads of times."

Portrait-Regulus frowned.

"There were so many times that I ought to have let my guard down for you and just let you be a part of my life. Especially at Hogwarts. When you came to Hogwarts, that was my chance. That was my chance to make things better between us and to help you. I could've saved you from them then... I should've saved you from that house, from those - those people."

"I wouldn't have listened, I wouldn't have let you save me, Sirius."

Sirius stared down at the glow of the watch against his chest as he clutched it there, his hair hanging over his face, and he murmured, "I should've tried."

Silence hung between the Portrait and Sirius for some time and Sirius kept coddling the watch and rocking himself slightly. Portrait-Regulus stared at him, fidgeting, wishing he was there and dimensional and able to do something to help - to hug Sirius or something - but of course there wasn't anything he could do about it. And then, very suddenly - without any warning - the sentience went out from the portrait, and the drawing went flat.

Sirius stared at it, shocked, and said, "Reggie? Little Brother?"

But it was nothing more than a drawing again. A very good drawing, of course, but just a drawing nonetheless.

"Wait, come back... Reggie, come back," he begged it, dropping the watch on his lap and grabbing the frame. His fingers touched the portrait, careful not to smudge the charcoal Remus had used to draw him. He tapped the parchment persistently. "Wake up. Wake back up, will you? Please? I'm not - I want - I want to talk to you more. Please? I won't speak of sad things any longer, I promise..."

But there was no waking it up and Sirius bowed his head and lay it back down on the pillows, sadly. 

"Fuck," Sirius cursed. He flopped to his side and curled up on the bed, hugging his knees, staring at the frame. He grappled about on the mattress for the watch and clutched it again to his chest, pressing the button again, the glow lighting up his face as he stared at it, stared at the numbers, and wished that the portrait would wake back up. "I wanted to tell you that I'm sorry," he said to the frame.

He fell asleep laying there and that was where Remus found him when he came home a couple hours later. Remus bent down and slid his easel and blank canvases back under the bed, where he kept them when he wasn't painting, and he found the cigarette Sirius had dropped and put it down on the nightstand beside the bed. He hung the portrait back up on the wall and put the watch, which had fallen out of Sirius's sleeping fingers, back on the nightstand with the pile of stuff from Sirius's pocket, including his silver lighter and a load of loose change.

"I thought you were supposed to be at the World Cup?" he asked quietly, kissing Sirius awake a moment later.

Sirius pulled Remus down into him and hugged him tight instead of answering, and Remus let him. He could tell in the way Sirius's arms wrapped around him so, so, so tight that what Sirius needed was just to be held for awhile. So Remus hugged his husband, and the pair of them fell asleep.