tw: mentions of mass murder, physical abuse, torture

TOLD BY REGULUS

HIS MOTHER HAD SCREAMED AT SIRIUS AGAIN. This time it was about his Muggle music, but it had escalated into something much worse, and Reg felt like he was seven years old again, crying into his pillows to stop the sound of Sirius's screams from the Cruciatus Curse.

Except he was not seven, and he and his brother hated each other. 

"No! I'll keep playing it and you can't tell me what do to!" he had heard Sirius's defiant response from downstairs, and heard him stomp up before Mother could catch him. They lived next to each other, so Reg heard everything he did through the walls that decayed with age. His mother had fired the spells near Sirius's bookshelves- in between Sirius's screams were several thump-thumps of books falling to the floor, their pages sprawled messily and torn from their spines. Reg had closed his eyes, as if that could help anything. Now, it was almost dinnertime, his mother had left, and his brother was releasing his own anger onto his furniture. 

He was penning a letter when the music started; to Malka Arslan. He'd felt a hole in his stomach as he wrote his response about the Muggle murders just a few blocks away.

It had been Bellatrix. She'd been back for another one of her visits to try and sway his grandfather Arcturus to join the Dark Lord, and again she'd been turned down (because Blacks don't serve). However, she'd brought the fight to them. Dressing up in her silver mask and dark robes, she and other members of his followers had ended up pissing off a tempered Muggle man who was having a bad day. And in retaliation, she'd killed their entire family.

It was a statement to the world, yes, that the Dark Lord was powerful. But it was more of a statement to the Blacks. His mother had screamed at his grandfather about it; how he should have joined her Lord a long time ago, but a single strong word from his grandfather's lips had silenced her. Reg could tell his grandfather was worried. Bellatrix was still a Black even if she was married, and to not only be involved in, but to plan and lead an attack so close to their family home was ominous. It meant the Dark Lord knew where they lived. And if the rumors were right, even Arcturus Black might not stand a chance against him. 

So, Reg had wrote, hoping she'd read between the lines, that the attack was prompted by Wizardingkind and that he would clarify anything she wanted when they returned to school for their second term. She hadn't mentioned it in her second letter, though he knew her spirit by now, and knew it would be the first thing she said to him back at Hogwarts. She was a Gryffindor. A strange, nontalkative one, but still a Gryffindor. They had sent exactly three letters in total by now, Reg kept count. 

When Christmas Day rolled around, he had recieved a small, hand-sized package with her tiny owl. He opened it, and a familiar scent washed over him. One of a winter night party, and it brought him back to the duo sitting together on Slughorn's balcony, as the evening breeze blew in the direction that gave him the grace to smell the strong scent of honey and salt air that lingered about her. 

It was packaged with a sticky seal made of plastic, which is how Reg could tell it was made by Muggles, as he loosened the tape and two or three bags of tobacco fell onto his lap. He smelled them, and it was a far more expensive, quality kind than the kind he usually stole from Rickard Burke's dresser. He had smiled at the present and its accompanied note.

The sounds from Sirius's room stopped.

Reg looked up in surprise. Sirius normally raged, kicking things around for at least an hour after his tantrums. But no, this time was different.

That night, after their normal silent dinner, Regulus went to bed, and laid in his bed, secretly awake. The house had faded into silence. Sirius and Mother's fight had been so bad because his mother had been holding in her temper for days. 

Aunt Lucretia and Uncle Ignatius had just left for Wales after their nine-day visit, and whenever Aunt Lucretia came over, it was a known fact that punishments were forbidden. In fact, one time, when Reg was nine, his mother had broken all the finger bones in his left hand as a punishment for him dousing her closet with water in a case of accidental magic. After seeing his makeshift bandages and connecting the dots in her next visit, Aunt Lucretia had screamed herself hoarse at Walburga (as well as at her brother Orion), and when Walburga tried to retaliate, Lucretia had taken a poker and knocked Walburga fully unconcious. Then, she'd taken Reg to his room and gently held him as he allowed himself to cry, as her husband, Ignatius Prewett, healed his hand with a soothing look. 

The ever so faint sound of a trunk hitting the ground caused him to sit up straight. A muffled curse followed. Sirius. What was he doing? 

Reg tiptoed out of his room as he realized the sound was coming from the first floor. He walked barefoot down the stairs, knowing his mother was sound asleep, as his heart screeched to a halt at the sight he saw.

Sirius, with his brown trunk and in pajamas and a coat, about to turn the doorknob. He could barely even see since the house was dark, but Reg knew what he saw. Sirius's trunk was packed to the brim, and he'd thrown some sort of band around it to keep it from overflowing. His cloak didn't even look like it was his, with tatters all over it. Reg had a vague idea of who it could belong to. 

"You're running away," the words spilled out of his mouth, as Sirius whipped around, drawing his wand. Reg took an instinctive step back. Blue eyes met black, as the flames of anger began to stoke Reg's chest.

"I- Reggie, please," Sirius begged, looking around to make sure all the portraits were asleep. His hands were shaking- a remnant of the Cruciatus Curse that Regulus experienced sometimes.

"-No. No, no." Reg snarled, as all his anger boiled over. "You can't do this. You're the heir's heir, you have a responsibility, a-"

"-A duty to this family?" Sirius finished, his previous sympathy gone and replaced with ice. His eyes were gaunt. "I know. I know, Reg, and I know better than you ever will how much of a disappointment I am to all of us,"

"How dare you?" Reg hissed. "How dare you shirk your duties for sixteen years and then abandon us all at the worst moment?!"

"No, how dare you, Regulus," Sirius retorted, Gryffindor anger filling his eyes like fire on coals. "I might not have spoken to you all term, but I've been keeping an eye on you. How you and your friends hexed that Muggleborn boy. How you almost drowned someone in the fifth-floor toilet for speaking against your opinions. Speak your words, little brother, but they are useless to me,"

"There is a war happening right outside of our doorstep. You've been medddling with sides for ages, you must stop and ask Grandfather for forgiveness," Reg said slowly, unable to fully articulate his feelings.

"Beg that old man? For what? Permission to hate my friends?" Sirius scoffed bitterly. 

"Your friends are blood traitors and-" Reg began, filled with so much anger he couldn't register what he was saying.

"You know what?" Sirius said, looking at him with more disgust than he'd ever done before. "There's things thing you do, it's quite funny. You move your lips and our mother's voice comes out,"

"Don't insult her,"

"Why shouldn't I, when she's Crucio'ed you the exact same amount as me?" Sirius said, and for a moment, their conversation simmered to a silence.

"You can't do this," Reg snarled. "Not to-" 

Not to me, and Sirius understood. Pain filled his eyes, and for a brief moment he looked at the stairs, as if he was about to walk back up on them.

And Reg was jealous. He was filled with so much jealousy he could barely breathe. How Sirius had the choice. It didn't really matter in the grand scheme of things if he was a horrible heir, Reg was a spare. Sirius was replacable. Regulus was not. And for a split second, he fantasized another time, perhaps in another life, when things could've been different.

The Hat could've landed on Reg's head and screamed GRYFFINDOR, and maybe Reg would be friends with Sirius's friends and they could continue hiding from their mother's outbursts in Sirius's room together, crouched under the bed like they were five years old again. As a Gryffindor, maybe he could've met Malka sooner. Him and Sirius could be disappointments together, and earlier tonight, Sirius would've knocked on Reg's door with a smile Reg hadn't seen directed towards him in years, and asked him if he wanted out.

But no. They were two brothers, made from the same cloth and beaten with the same stones, yet they stood on opposing spectrums, surrounded by the dead bones they'd created between them. There was no way behind, only forward, and forward for Sirius was James Potter, Remus Lupin, and Peter Pettigrew. Forward was a life with the Potters, their great warm red and gold house. Forward for Regulus was a life of empty bottles of wine, of bruised knuckles and red-rimmed eyes. There was no going back now.

"Leave, then," Reg snarled, pointing at the door. "If you're so happy. Leave,"

"I-" Sirius began, but he looked down at his slippered feet and turned the doorknob. Every fiber of Regulus's body begged no, but there was no changing Sirius's mind. So Sirius stepped onto the snow-covered steps outside Grimmauld Place and into the winter air, and his breath came out in clouds around him while Regulus stood behind him, inside the house, with hands in his pockets and a heart irrevocably changed. 

"Well, go on," 

"Brother-" Sirius began.

"No! No, you don't call me that. Just leave, Sirius," Reg said, and to his utter disgust, tears began to prickle at the corner of his eyes.

"Reggie. I'll- I'll come back. I'll come back here, for you," Sirius stammered, tripping over his words.

"Get away from me," Reg said as he stared at Sirius's pale knuckles gripping his trunk, deep purple bruises on every finger from his mother's Crucio.

Sirius made an odd sort of gesture, almost like he was about to nod his head but changed his mind, and Reg shut the door before he could witness his brother leave their home forever.

In the morning, when Walburga's screams of fury filled the house, Arcturus Black called Regulus into his office. He didn't even invite him to sit.

"Bellatrix has invited us to a private gathering with the Dark Lord this Saturday night at Malfoy Manor. You will be there, and you will present yourself to Him," were the only words his grandfather said to Reg, and if his world had not shattered already, in that moment it did.

-

this was so hard to write. i tried focusing more on the words being exchanged themselves than description of the exchange, since most people reading this probably have already read a hundred other iterations of the infamous 'sirius running away' incedent and already know how it went down and how regulus felt about it. 

also, in case u need any clarification: arcturus black is regulus's grandfather through his father orion's side. as you know, orion and walburga are cousins, with pollux being walburga's father and cygnus (bella, andromeda, and cissa's father) being her brother. meanwhile, lucretia is orion's older sister and is also walburga's cousin, and is married to ignatius prewett, brother to eustace prewett (father of fabian, gideon, and molly!)

also yes i know some other Blacks are here rn, like cygnus, pollux, and alphard, but they're less related to the plot than lucretia, ignatius, and arcturus. wiki says cygnus, pollux, cassiopeia, lucretia, AND arcturus all died from 1990-1992. that's some lazy writing, so we're not gonna do that here. cygnus, pollux, and cassiopeia will have died by this ^ point in the story, but the rest of them are hale and healthy. cos wizards can live to 100 pretty easily. and in my version of this story, alphard is already blasted off the family tree for being gay.

anyways, hope you like this story so far! pls interact, comments literally make my entire day! love you all~