#withrewings

Sirius turned away from the door, his door. Just on the other side lay his bedroom. The one that was painted an ugly green, with posters upon posters up on the wall. Stick charms in place, keeping them there. He had pictures of his friends hanging there too. James, Peter, Remus, all of them laughing, arms slung over each other’s shoulders. 

He hated leaving it, but it had to say. He never thought he’d leave this place, as much as he hated it, it was his home. At least somewhat a home. 

Not like Hogwarts, where people loved him, they laughed with him, celebrated after quidditch games together. They grew up together, they’re growing up together.  And it hits him that he’s just a kid, because it’s so easy to forget that sometimes. He’s sixteen, and he’s leaving this home for good. He hated it here, since he was 8 and understood what the word family meant he hated it.

Home has always meant a person for Sirius, not a place. Home used to be Grimmauld Place, here with his parents and his little brother, they were their own little family. And it had worked, for a while. But the illusion of safety and love had quickly faded into something else entirely.

The next time he picked a home, it was at Hogwarts. As soon as he got on the train with that messy-haired boy who had glasses that magnified his eyes, he knew this was where he wanted to be. There wasn’t the need to prove himself to his parents, he didn’t have to sit up straight at the table or isolate himself in his room. 

He was at Hogwarts with his friends and his found family. That was the best feeling in the world. 

He shouldered his bag, his trunk was shrunk and safely stored inside. He was finally getting out, the thought brought a smile to his face. He started down the stairs, the last time he’d be walking these steps, last time he’d be in this miserable hell of a house. 

House, not home.

His footsteps sounded louder as he padded down the steps, reaching the landing. His wrist still throbbed from his run in with his father earlier that day. His ribs were sore too, and he could feel his ankle swelling under his sock. But that wasn’t going to stop him. 

His vision blurred and unfocused as he reached the landing, moving as quietly as he could from then on as to not wake Kreature. He almost made it to the door, hand outstretched, but he paused. Did he really want to do this? Did he want to leave his baby brother here?

He curses himself for stopping, because he knows how hard it was going to be to get going again.

He couldn’t leave without saying goodbye, but he also knows he won’t leave if he sees his brother’s face again. He doesn’t really have a choice, does he? Sirius’ head snaps around when he hears a creek at the top of the stairs.

He panics, ready to fling himself out the door and run if it’s his parents. But when he turns to look, he sees a pair of the same eyes looking back at him. 

“Regulus…” He whispers his name, and he hopes it’s not going to be the last time he says it. That this isn’t going to be the last time they see each other, looking at each other, or even talking. He doesn’t want it to be the last time before staring his brother down on the war field.

He’s not going to hurt him then either, he can’t. He still sees his baby brother, the one that promised to follow him anywhere, the one who said he wanted to be a Gryffindor. Just like his big brother.

And now, looking him up and down, he’s grown up. The kid who used to be afraid of the monsters under his bed now sneers at him across the hall, the one who keeps his head down while his “friends” curse the mudbloods.

He sees the kid who wants to rebel but won’t because he’s too afraid to face the consequences.

But then again, he sees the scared grey eyes of his little brother who would come to him when he was afraid of the monsters under his bed.

“You’re leaving, aren’t you?” Regulus is walking down the stairs, slowly with one hand sliding against the railing. “You’re finally getting out.” 

Sirius didn’t know what to say. He couldn’t place Regulus’s tone, whether it was defiance, or bitterness, or even sadness. 

“I’m sorry.” He faced Regulus fully now. “I just… I can’t stay.” He looked down and to the side, ashamed. He didn’t want to see the disappointment on his brother’s face, not that he’s never seen it before. But something in this moment felt different. 

“Leave.” 

“W-what?” Sirius snapped his eyes back up to his brothers. “You want me to go?”

Regulus stepped off the landing, “I want you to live, you idiot.” He walked towards Sirius, with a sad smile on his face. Sirius had to swallow a lump growing in his throat.

“Come with me.” The words surprised both of them.

“I can’t, you know this,” Regulus shook his head, pushing lightly at Sirius’ shoulder.

“Why, Reg, come on. We can get out, the both of us.” 

“Sirius, look… You got to rebel in your own way, let me rebel in mine.” 

“Quoi?” Sirius was affronted, not expecting that answer. “What do you mean, how are you rebelling.”

“You daft idiot. You rebelled by, let’s say showing your displeasure—”

“Their ideas and viewpoints are stupid.”

“Not the point. You rebelled out loud, showing your displeasure, and spoke. Sometimes yelled—”

“—yea, sometimes.”

“Can you just let me talk? We don’t have much time you prat.” Regulus sighed, running his hand through his hair. A habit he picked up from Sirius.

“Okay, okay, fine, speak.” Sirius held his hands up in surrender.

“Thank you. You rebelled in your own way, out loud and in front. I want to rebel in my way, from the inside. Let me do this.” Regulus pushed.

Sirius sighed, there was never talking Regulus out of something he set his mind to.

“Be safe? Promise me you’ll be safe.” Regulus shoved Sirius again, towards the door.

“I’ll be safe. Now go, Mother and Father should be up soon.” Sirius nodded, hating the tears that were welling up.

“This-This isn’t goodbye Reggie.” Regulus’s smile shrunk a little at that.

“It never is.”

That was the last thing Sirius heard as the door swung shut behind him. The journey ahead was still so far. He let the tears fall, slipping down his face. But he wouldn’t give up yet, not when he had the chance of starting over.

He starts towards one of the few places he wants to call home. James.  And he runs, he runs as fast as he can before remembering something. James isn’t home. He won’t be home for another 4 days. 

He goes to the next logical choice. Remus, or course Remus. The two had started dating last year. He doesn’t know if the thought of Remus makes him more upset or relieved, but the tears are still spilling down his face, and he wants to know how he even fit that much saltiness in his tear ducts. 

It takes him longer than he’d like to reach the young werewolf’s house, but he’s so tired, and his backpack feels like it’s weighing him down. It’s so dark out and he just wants to sleep. Just a few more steps… Just a few.. more… steps... 

He wants to collapse, to just lay there in the fluffy grass of the lawn, but he figures his moony’s arms are much more comfortable. His limbs ache, a mixture of all the adrenaline that’s wearing off and the wounds that are starting to present themselves. He can still feel the harsh tingle in his spine from the aftershocks of the cruciatus curse. The wounds that have long scabbed over on his back and stomach are reopening every time he shifts.

Finally, he drags his feet up to the door. The tears that are dried on his face came flooding back, prickling at his eyes. 

It’s around 4 in the morning when Sirius finally gets there. He’s cradling his right arm to his chest, shaking like a leaf from the cold. Sirius hesitates yet again at another turn. Should he knock, and disturb one of the only people who’s ever loved him. Did Remus love him?

He almost walks away, but he doesn’t. He’s come far too far to give up. 

He knocks on the door softly at first, before a little louder. He still isn’t sure if he should do it. But lucky for him, Remus was awake. He still has no idea what the button on the right does, he doesn’t push it even though he wants to.

He had gone to bed hours ago, and he meant to sleep, really he did. He just got so invested in his book that by the time he checked the clock it was half-past 3 in the morning. He was in the kitchen, filling a glass of water before going back upstairs.  He was startled by a quiet yet insistent knock on his door.

He jumped, almost dropping the cup. The knock was so quiet, he thought he imagined it in his sleep-deprived state.

Then, it came again, followed by a barely-there whimper.

His heart pounding, racing in his chest. He could hear his pulse in his head. Who would be knocking at this hour? Was it safe? Should he get his parents? Should he-

“Re?” The voice was weak, followed by almost silent sobs that he wouldn’t have heard if it weren’t for his advanced hearing.

His heart raced for a different reason this time, he knew that voice.

Sirius

He rushed towards the sound, not even thinking this could be a trap. He threw the door open and revealed a tear-stained Sirius.

“Moons?” His voice cracked, and his eyes flitted around widely like he couldn’t believe Remus was really there, standing in front of him. Like he was still trapped in that house, and he never made it out.

Remis stared at him with wide eyes, Sirius’ hair had been cut uneven and choppy. His pale skin was looming with bruises.

“Sirius,” he whispered, not having meant to have said anything at all. But he can’t believe that this is the same boy he fell in love with. He doesn’t want to believe that his boyfriend, the boy that was brighter than life, brighter than his star in the sky, was reduced to-to this. After only a few days over the holiday at that. 

What kind of monsters would do this?

The Blacks apparently.

It takes Remus a moment to react before pulling the probably disowned heir into him. Sirius goes willingly, melting into the embrace. He feels comfort, cared for, safe. He feels like he’s finally home.

He lets out a small cry as Remus squeezes him tightly, the painful wounds making themself known to Remus.

The pain in his arms, his ribs, the pain of leaving Regulus. The pain where the mark would have been burned into his arm, The pain of showing up on Remus’ doorstep in the early hours of the morning. The pain of forcing himself to stay living there, under those conditions, for so long.

All he knows is pain and part of him wishes he were numb.

He’s apologizing, a mantra of “Please, I’m sorry,” spilling from his lips. He’s not sure who he’s apologizing to. Whether it be to his parents for failing them, to Regulus for leaving him, his friends for not being good enough, or Remus for coming. He doesn’t even know if he’s apologizing to himself, but that’s not likely.

His knees give out, and his hands are shaking from where they’re gripped onto Remus’ nightshirt. He registers the flashes of pain shooting up his arm from how hard he’s gripping, but he’s not ready to let go yet.

He’s reliving it, all of the abuse, and the spoken words. All those years he felt abandoned inside those walls. And he feels like he’s back there again. He doesn’t know how to make it stop. He wants it to stop.

He feels a hand on his chin and he flinches. Please, don’t hurt me, he thinks. But his eyes meet honey brown ones, his parents don’t have honey brown eyes. They have grey and terrifying ones, not the comforting ones he’s seeing right now.

It’s moony, I made it to moony. It’s okay, I got out.