haunted / hopeful

      “yes. i was still fermenting.” maybe it’s sad that the small, curious boy he once was is buried now beneath layers of anger and confusion and emotional turmoil. but he can’t think of it that way. he can’t start pitying himself. the reality is that regulus took all of the tools that his family gave to him and used them in ways they never imagined. certainly they never intended on this—the line-stepping information broker.

      he was meant to be one of them. but so was sirius, wasn’t he? before he defied the meda’s ways and turned jedi.

      regulus wrinkles his nose.

      “obviously. and i obviously got there, today, right at the most opportune moment, didn’t i?” he leans forward, narrows his eyes at the bruises and injury on his brother’s face. who knows where else it is. “i know a lot more than you’ve ever given me proper credit for. i don’t like being right all the time…” 

❛ you did, ❜ it’s a quiet admission, but a firm one. sirius owes regulus his life. his friends are dead - he saw it, saw them all -- he’d never imagined something like that would happen. not the clones, not like that. they’d been friends, been...well. it doesn’t matter now, does it? sirius carries it with him like a weight. 

❛ you were much sweeter, then. do you know that? ❜ all things considered, sirius got off lightly. he sits huddled on one of the long seats, a blanket around his shoulders, knuckles white as he holds it tight around him. he doesn’t remember who gave it to him. he might have brought it with him. maybe regulus --no. 

      “well, you might.” it feels as much sometimes—worrying that he might one day return home and his brother won’t be there anymore, worrying that something will happen while they’re apart. sirius is still alive, but regulus can’t help but think that these events will set off some terrible chain reaction…

      it’s not the best news. it’s not the worst news. how will sirius support himself without his inheritance? he’s only sixteen! regulus opens his mouth to speak when he is silenced by the realization that he’s already begun his incessant interrogation and they haven’t even reached the school yet. he forces a deep breath, pushes his hands through his hair, and releases it in a heavy sigh.

      “there’s a common room on the second floor that should be mostly empty…” he heads off, motioning for his brother to follow, “how long are you here?”

❛ i promise you i won’t, ❜ sirius intends to take advantage of every moment he’s here, now. and he can see regulus trying to fight himself, wanting to ask and not wanting to spoil things. he understands - it’s the hippogriff in the room. there’s only so much they can do about dancing around it before it becomes an issue. sirius will answers whatever questions regulus has. he’s committed to that.

for now, he slings an arm around regulus’ shoulder, squeezing gently before he nods and pulls back. ❛ to the common room then, ❜

@cewyllenw​  –  ❛  go  on ,  then .  kill  me .  ❜

      “you don’t know anything about me, do you.” not if you think that’s really want i want. his wand is raised and he wears their father’s chilly expression but if there is a curse on the edge of his tongue then he does not speak it. he has no intention to. it’s just awful luck and sadistic irony that brought them both here to face each other.

      he’s been terrified of this moment since he first took the mark, those years ago.

      “let’s say i pretend i never saw you here, and you never saw me. call it one last favour from a brother to a brother.” as though he’s doing sirius some great service—when this ‘mercy’ is a selfish act of the love he’s never lose for his older brother. 

what’s he supposed to say to that? of course he doesn’t know anything about regulus. look at them. opposite sides of a war -- what is there to know? sirius has made himself hate regulus ; it’s the only way he can live with himself anymore.

❛ coward. ❜ he spits the word. his own wand is several feet away ; regulus caught him off-guard. it isn’t that he’s not talented enough to disarm the best of wizards, only that sirius tends to be just exactly the same. they used to spar for fun. sirius hates what they’ve become. ❛ i don’t want your fucking favours, ❜ he shifts, moves, crouches to pick up his wand and his eyes never leave regulus.

it’s late. sirius doesn’t know how late. he doesn’t even know what time it was when he’d first shown up. just knows it’s later than that now, and knows that when james had gently suggested they go to bed sirius had felt panic rise in his chest that james must have seen ; because now they’re on the sofa instead, and sirius is pressed up against james’ side like he’s used to doing in the common room. the difference, of course, is that this is james’ house and in the morning they’ll have to explain to james’ parents why sirius is even here and then ask if he can stay and it’s --

sirius doesn’t want to think about it. instead, he lets james’ words wash over him and closes his eyes, curls up a little bit tighter. he wouldn’t do this if anyone else could see him - if anyone else knew. but they don’t. it’s just james. james is different. ❛ no, ❜ it comes sincerely. he remembers, absurdly, the conversation they’d had towards the end of their last year, where sirius had finally confessed that he was half-convinced his mother would kill him in one way or another and james had begged him not to go home. he wonders, now, if james would have come and collected him if sirius hadn’t shown up.

 it’s  a  fair  response.   james had thought his ideas were sincere,  his faith the two of them would be okay without him  (they had eachother)  had seemed based in good intentions,  until now.  now he wonders if he’d told himself all this to ease his guilt,  as if the two of them having eachother made any of his actions less selfish,  less terrible.      he’d  thought it all made sense,  but sirius points out where james is wrong,  in only the ways he ever could  -  and all he’s left with is a deep well of shame .       ❝  that’s  not  what  I’m  trying  to  do  I  just  -  hoped  you’d  figure  it  out   ❞      which  now,   he  knows  sounds  stupid.   it  is  just  what  he’d  had  to  believe .  

he follows sirius,   heedlessly  ignoring any signs of dismissal.   unfair,  he knows, to dictate the conditions of this reunion  - but james stubbornly refuses to leave again.  even if he knows it’s only his leaving that did all this damage in the first place.      ❝   right  -   ❞     But  I’d  thought you’d know this isn’t what I wanted .     words he almost follows up with,   and then feels immensely glad he had curbed the impulse.  still,  he follows behind sirius,  a click of his tongue as he thinks      ❝   I hoped   -  things wouldn’t go like this .   that it wouldn’t have looked like anyone’s fault.  at least not on our side  ❞     deep down,  he wonders if he’d hoped sirius would have known.  even if just because the thought of being dead to them all,  being forgotten - made him itch.   but he and lily had always been gifted,  he should have known that they’d set their mind to an idea and pulled it off properly.  

he  looks  at  sirius  for  a  long  moment,   and  realises he doesn’t know what to say,  what to do,  to  fix this.   he’d known, potentially,  he might not have been able to.  but the realisation hits him more painfully than he anticipated.    ❝  you should -  if you want to.   I’m  not  going  to  tell  you  what  to  say  ❞     he didn’t even know what he wanted.   for things to go back to how they were before  -   but he knew that wasn’t possible.   everything would be different after what they had done. 

❝  I didn’t think it would do this  ❞    if he thought it would,  he might have reconsidered.  or maybe not  -  sirius was  right.   in the end he’d thought of lily,  and of harry.   everything came back to harry.   ❝   I’m sorry   ❞      he’s said it before,  he’ll  keep  saying  it  -  but  there’s  something  wrung  out  in  his  voice,  exhausted .   ❝  you  have  to  believe  -  I  thought  it  would  be  better .   I  thought  it’d  help,  they’d  not  be  looking  for  us,  for  you  and  remus  anymore   .  .  .   you  know  that  right,  that  I  was  trying  to  fix  everything?    ❞

as if - as if! - sirius hadn’t disbelieved it. hadn’t wanted, desperately, for it not to be true. as though he hadn’t torn apart the remains of their house with his bare hands, trying to find any proof of life. of course he hadn’t believed it straight away - he hadn’t let himself. he remembers being pulled out, doesn’t remember who by. remembers his fingers and knuckles bleeding from how he’d torn things apart as though they might be hiding behind a loose brick or a piece of wood. he’d lost time, days of it he thinks, in his grief. if nothing else, sirius had been given firm confirmation that he is of neither sound mind nor body when things go wrong.

and now james is here before him, pragmatic and trying, and sirius’ eyebrows raise, head shaking. ❛ stop apologising. i’ve already forgiven you, you bastard, ❜ because of course he has. sirius isn’t stupid - he understands that james and lily made an impossible choice in desperate times. it doesn’t change the compounded sense of grief sirius had gone through, the way his world had tipped on its head and shattered into pieces. he’d lost regulus, he’d pushed away remus, he’d had no other family to speak of. the way he’s living now is testament to that.

so what is he meant to do? hold a grudge? stay angry? with james? it might be possible with someone else, but not james -- never james.

he’s dying, probably. curled up on his side, arms wrapped around his middle as his accusatory gaze follows remus around the small room. it doesn’t matter how many apologies he receives - so far the amount is none - he won’t be letting this go. not anytime soon.

and yes, it could be argued that some of the responsibility falls to sirius himself, but he’s feeling miserable and sorry for himself, so he won’t be taking any of it. instead, he is placing the blame entirely on remus. who leaves chocolate out like that? around a dog! ❛ what kind of a boyfriend would forget that? ❜ sirius’ voice is closer to a whine than anything else. it’s not as though he loses all control when he shifts, but he doesn’t think quite as sharply - that’s all.

it’s meant to be a comfort ; sirius is sure of that. he can tell by the way james says it, the look in his eyes. it doesn’t mater how long it’s truly been since sirius saw james - his james - for the last time. every mannerism he carries is engrained into sirius’ psyche, locked away like a secret that sirius had promised himself he would never share. this isn’t sharing, though - this is james. this is james, alive and staying that away. this is james carrying even more loss, but holding tight to what he has. 

and here’s sirius, shattering everything to pieces. carving himself a place where he doesn’t deserve to have one, lying and skulking, afraid of his own shadow, of small sounds. there is healing, in places. he sits with harry, sometimes - has gained that trust, now. sits with harry in the cross of his legs and lets the boy play with his fingers, lets him babble like he’s holding the most interesting conversation in the world. sirius is fascinated by him ; fascinated by the trust james and regulus have put in sirius to do even this.

trust that, sirius imagines, is about to come crashing down around him.

❛ i’ve lied to you, ❜ there seems to be no better way to approach it. sirius doesn’t look at james. this feels wrong - it feels awful. sirius sits wearing james’ clothes, in james and regulus’ house, and he has torn a hole in their lives and lied. and forced regulus to lie. he takes a breath and it catches in his chest, threatens to choke him. ❛ i’ve made regulus lie for me, as well. ❜

because sirius knows james. he knows that there are a handful of things james values above all else - he knows that honesty is one of those things. sirius’ fingers twist together, the tips going bloodless and white as he tries to work out how best to say it. there is no best way, he realises quite quickly. he might as well -- ❛ they sent me to azkaban, ❜ it comes in a rush, and he still hasn’t looked at james.

❛ i told you i’d gone on the run ; i didn’t even have the chance to try. that night...i went after peter, and when i found him i -- james i would have. i would have killed him. he beat me to it. blew himself to pieces, took thirteen muggles with him. maybe more, i don’t know. and i remember standing there thinking ‘ well that’s the then ‘. i didn’t even try to run. i don’t remember much of the trial but they must have found me guilty and i -- ❜ he breathes in and closes his eyes, fingers twisting together so hard they look as though they might break. ❛ that’s where i was, before i was...brought here. for eight years. and i didn’t want to tell you because you worry, james, and i didn’t want you to think...well, i don’t know but whatever you think now, please don’t blame regulus. ❜ he opens his eyes again now, seeks out james. imploring - desperate.