Posted originally on the Archive_of_Our_Own at https://archiveofourown.org/
works/5375252.
  Rating:
      Explicit
  Archive Warning:
      Underage
  Category:
      M/M
  Fandom:
      Harry_Potter_-_J._K._Rowling
  Relationship:
      Regulus_Black/Sirius_Black
  Character:
      Regulus_Black, Sirius_Black, Severus_Snape
  Additional Tags:
      Blackcest, I've_made_a_huge_mistake, Sibling_Incest, Implied/Referenced
      Character_Death, Simon_Magus'_Right_Bollock
  Stats:
      Published: 2015-12-07 Words: 5729
****** the boy with the perpetual nervousness ******
by havisham
Summary
     Well, he's not like the boys we used to have / Not like them at all,
     oh no / Those ones made their parents proud / This one beats 'em all
     Regulus has always depended on Sirius to show him what he shouldn't
     do and shouldn't want.
Notes
See the end of the work for notes
Tonight was the night Regulus would speak to Sirius.
He had planned his speech the entire train ride home, locking Severus out of
their compartment to do so. The problem was that he didn't have time to think
of what to say to Sirius before Sirius went to the Potters for the rest of the
summer.
If Sirius had had his way, he would be there now, but mother had put her foot
down there. Sirius would have to show his face at Narcissa's wedding first,
before he could waste the rest of his summer in the company of those blood
traitor Potters. At that point, Sirius had gone red and shouted, and Mother had
shouted back. Regulus had slipped away, when he was sure no one was looking,
but he had only mounted the first flight of stairs before he heard Mother shout
for him.
Regulus knew what was good for him. He listened to what his mother said and
nodded at the parts where it seemed needed. He found that he had agreed to act
as another cousin’s chaperon, a role Sirius had flatly refused, at Bella's
engagement party.
Regulus heard the chimes ring for midnight and took a breath. He turned to face
the wall and knocked on it, twice. He waited for Sirius’ response, but it did
not come. Regulus cast a listening spell under his breath, an old trick that he
had used for years now, even before he had come to Hogwarts. He usually
listened to Sirius breathe, snore, grunt when he masturbated, but tonight he
heard nothing.
Then he knew. Sirius was gone.
Regulus leapt up and crossed the room, though he knew his haste would do no
good. The hallway was dim, lit only by the open door to Sirius' room. If
Regulus had not known before, he would've then. Sirius always locked his door
at night, and it would take all of Regulus' guile and pleading to have him open
again.
But now, it was open for the world to see. The air smelled thick there, a mix
of sweat and stale cigarettes. Sirius' clothes were tossed around everywhere,
on the floor, spilling out of his dresser. Regulus looked around, carefully
committing everything to memory. Those ugly Muggle posters he had insisted on
plastering the walls with, the elaborate Muggle contraption that he called a
drum kit that he had gotten from somewhere, which he played at nights until
Mother shouted herself hoarse trying to get him to stop.
Regulus drifted over to Sirius' bed, which was against the window. The sheets
were still wrinkled and half off the mattress. He searched for a note,
something that Sirius could have left to show that he intended to return. But
there was nothing. Finally, Regulus crawled into Sirius' bed and wrapped
himself up in blankets and fell asleep.
During the night, Regulus woke up, suddenly awake. He listened for any noise,
but the room was silent. Finally, he saw a small piece of wallpaper carefully
unstick itself from the wall. It floated over, hovering slightly above him.
Regulus frowned. He saw that there was writing on one side of the paper.
Sirius’ writing. He reached out, and it fell into his hand.
Little bastard, the note said. I knew you couldn't resist.
Then, after a slow corkscrew around, the note finished with: I'll come back for
you.
Regulus smiled -- he couldn't help it -- at the obvious lie and set the whole
thing aflame.
It curled up into a tight comma of ash and then disappeared.
 
*
At school, they did not speak to each other, hardly saw each other. Once,
during breakfast, Regulus felt a pair eyes trained on him, but when he turned,
no one ever was paying the slightest bit of attention to him. Then, someone
screamed and Sirius and Potter burst out laughing. They had turned all the salt
cellars on the Slytherin table into mice. One of them scrambled desperately
into Regulus' cupped hands. He peered down at it, watched as its white fur
turned silvery, and then stilled and turned back to salt and silver.
From under the table, Severus kicked him. Hard.
Regulus glared at him and Severus glared back. This year, they were, by
default, friends, although Regulus privately thought Severus was poor company.
His hygiene was appalling and his conversation exclusively centered on that
Muggleborn girl, Lily Evans. It was beyond tedious, listening to him.
Regulus had his own reasons to hate James Potter, but even he thought Severus'
venom was a bit much. But in truth, Severus saved most of his ire for Sirius
for reasons that, to Regulus, seemed to go deeper than the childish pranks that
his brother and his friends pulled.
Severus was still glaring at him. Regulus sighed. "What is it, Severus?"
"Your brother’s friend is trying to get your attention," Severus said, in the
same voice he would no doubt use to tell him that Regulus' robes were on fire.
Regulus turned, trying to hide the excitement, the expectation from his face.
It would never do for Sirius to believe that Regulus looked forward to talk to
him. But, to his disappointment, it was not Sirius who beckoned him, but Remus.
Mealtime was over by now, however, and Regulus rose with the rest, not looking
over to the group of his brother's friends. He did see, however, that one of
his shoelaces were dragging on the ground. So, of course, he ducked behind a
column to tie it, as casually as he could be. When he looked up, he saw Remus
Lupin looking down at him.
Remus was a thin sort of boy, ragged around the edges, inexplicably worn-out
looking. Being Sirius' friend must be exhausting, more so than being his
brother -- Regulus had never had sleep in the same room as Sirius, whatever his
-- listening -- habits were. Remus cleared his throat. He seemed nervous, he
was sweating so much that his collar was damp. Regulus gave him a polite, if
bored look, and asked what was wrong.
“I'm sorry,” Remus said, and said a charm. Regulus opened his mouth to say
something, but he was hit with a wave of sleep so intense that he hardly felt
any pain, as he hit the ground.
*
Regulus woke to the crackling of a fire, and found himself well-sunk into a
large, overstuffed armchair. He blinked and saw a shadow come between him and
the flame, and blinked again when that shadow resolved itself into Sirius.
Regulus scrabbled up, or tried to -- Sirius pushed him back with a lazy grunt,
and Regulus hissed, so angry that he could spit.
“What is the matter with you? Why can't you ever do things the normal way?
Where am I?”
Sirius seated himself on the arm opposite of Regulus and said,“You know, your
third question usually would be someone’s first. It’s all right, no one comes
here.” He said this with a flourish, though Regulus looked around and it did
not seem over-impressive to him.
“And I brought you here in the way that I did,” Sirius continued grandly,
“because I saw no other way to do it.”
“What do you want, Sirius?”
Sirius pressed his lips together, trying to look stern. He did not quite
succeed, although Regulus still felt a familiar tremor of fear and
anticipation, like how he felt when Mother would have the same -- but stronger,
but more-- expression on her face. It would drive Sirius mad to think that he
had inherited anything from her, so Regulus kept quiet, and stared at Sirius.
Sirius, for the first time in his life, seemed a little uncomfortable with his
scrutiny. “I've decided,” he started abruptly. “After school, you'll come live
with me. You're almost sixteen now, quite old enough to make your own mind
about things.”
Regulus shook his head. “I can't.”
“Can't?” Sirius repeated, incredulously. “Why not?”
“Sirius, have you lost your mind? Can you imagine what our parents would do if
both of us turned out like -- well, turned out like you? If we were both
disinherited, what would happen to the house, or the fortune after Father died?
It might all go to Malfoy -- you know he's clever enough to work at it, not
like Lestrange.”
Regulus and Sirius made the same vinegar face, at the sound of Malfoy’s name,
but Regulus pressed on, saying, “Besides, you have no money, no means of
support. What'd you expect me to do, lay about the Potters’ guesthouse with you
all day?”
“Well, it's a start. Lots of people get by with practically nothing, you know,
Regulus. They're not all spoiled little ponce like you.”
“Well, we all can't be leeches like you.”
Sirius rose from his seat, but Regulus warded him off. “Sirius, please come
back. Father would have you back, I know it. He regrets it -- an heir is a
terrible thing to waste. And Mother … Deep down, I know she misses you. Please
come back.” Sirius sat down again with a defeated sigh. Regulus got off his
chair and did an awkward shuffle on his knees to go where Sirius sat.
“Please,” Regulus said, his hands digging into the side of Sirius’ upper
thighs. “No else knows what it's like, living with two of them. I'd go mad if
it wasn't for Kreacher. Please, Sirius.” If he could, he would reach out and
bring Sirius down to the ground, to his level, but Sirius felt stiff and
unresponsive in his hands, as if he'd been replaced with a mannequin. Regulus
said his name again before Sirius stirred to life and pushed him roughly away.
He rose, not very smoothly. His face was red when he spoke, but his voice was
very cold. “I will never live there again, Regulus, not ever.”
Regulus slumped down and covered his face.
Sirius said, “You can stay here for a while, but put out the fire when you
leave.”
But before his footsteps had stopped entirely, Regulus looked up and called
Sirius’ name.
“What is it?”
“Can we talk again? Like this, I mean,” Regulus said, gesturing around the
room. “I won't ask you to come back.” He sounded abject and miserable, he was
sure Sirius would rebuff him once again.
But instead, Sirius sighed loudly and said, “All right. Next Hogsmeade weekend,
then. We’ll meet in here, six o’clock sharp. I won't wait for you.”
“All right. Wait, Sirius! How do I find this place again?”
“Merlin’s cock, Regulus, look it up.”
*
He looked it up. For the next few weeks, Regulus tried to act as if he didn't
have a secret, that it didn't glow just underneath his skin. No one but Severus
noticed, anyway, and Severus said nothing, only curled his lip in disgust
occasionally when he thought Regulus wasn't watching. It was impossible,
really, to please him. Regulus wasn't sure why he tried (if he tried anything
besides not being deliberately cruel to Severus, like most people were) -
- except for the tiny quirk of fate that made Severus his only friend in
Slytherin House.
Not, of course, that he needed friends. Whatever Sirius might have thought,
Regulus always knew his own duty and position as a member of the most noble
house of Black. He didn't need friends, he had a legacy, a lineage.
Still.
He was a curious boy. After Potions, one day, Regulus sought Severus out,
steered him to an empty classroom and asked him, bluntly why it was that he
hated Sirius. Severus, to his credit, told him, calmly, clearly, as if it had
happened to someone else. Regulus stared. It was not like Severus to be
dispassionate, not like that.
I can't believe it, Regulus wanted to say, except he could. Sirius wouldn't -
- except he could. Except, he did. Severus saw Regulus staring at him and
snarled. “Don't you dare.”
“Dare what?” Regulus asked, feeling stupid and slow.
Severus scowled, deeply. “Whatever you’re thinking of doing. I have my own
plans.” Here, Severus looked older than his years, his sallow skin stretched
tight against the bones of his face.
“I won't,” Regulus said, lying.
Severus laughed, as if he knew.
*
Regulus came to the room early and saw for the first time that this was more of
a living quarters than anything else. There was a modestly sized bed on one
corner, and on the other, there was a table laid out with plates and cutlery,
everything, in fact, except food. Those were hardly required, he thought,
before he went over to the fireplace and spoke a charm that made the low flame
just up, higher and hotter. Somewhere in Hogwarts, a clock rang for six
o’clock.
Regulus waited.
Six o’clock fled, and soon it was seven, then seven thirty. Regulus understood
well enough that he had been stood up, but he did not feel like making the long
trek down to his own room. There was a perfectly serviceable bed here, he
thought, perhaps not very clearly, and Sirius…
Fuck Sirius was his last thought, falling asleep.
*
Regulus woke to the sound of giggling above him and his whole body tensed. He
cracked open an eye and looked up, and saw a familiar grey eye, a nose, black
hair looking down at him. Regulus opened both his eyes and stared furiously up
at his brother.
“Sorry,” Sirius muttered, his cheeks pink. “I forgot you were here until a
half-hour ago. I thought you would have gone away away in the meantime.”
“I would have,” Regulus sitting up. “But I felt asleep.”
“Of course,” Sirius said, collapsing down next to him. He was wearing, Regulus
saw with alarm, not a robe but Muggle clothing -- a short sleeve t-shirt and
jeans that stuck to his legs like they'd been glued on. He tried not to stare,
but it was hard. Sirius, of course, saw him.
He laughed, a little wildly. “Dearest Reg, how obvious you are. You should be
happy I'm drunk -- this could be your lucky day.”
“I don't know what you're talking about,” Regulus said stiffly, folding his
arms over his chest.
“Don't you, you little pervert?” Sirius turned to look at him. Suddenly, he
didn't seem so drunk after all. His eyes were sharp and full of speculation.
“Who sneaks into my bed and sniffs my sheets? God, you're so desperate,
Regulus, so hungry for it, it drips from your eyes .”
He put his hand on Regulus’ thigh and Regulus snatched it off, leaving
scratches.
“You,” Regulus began to say, his voice sounding, to his own ears, high and
uncertain. “You’re the one who’s broken, Sirius. Severus told me what you and
your friends did.”
Sirius blinked in surprise, but then swiftly his expression turned dark. “You
don't know anything about that.”
“I do. I know everything,” Regulus said. “You could have been a murderer,
Sirius. And you certainly could have made your friend into into one.”
“If you ever so as breathe a word about Remus...” Sirius said, his voice low
and deadly. His hands moved up and wrapped themselves around Regulus’s neck and
squeezed. Not enough to hurt, or do much of anything. But just having them
there was enough to get Regulus’ pulse to start racing.
“I don't care about Remus,” Regulus said carefully, pulling Sirius’ hands away.
“He could have founded Rome for all I care--”
“Er, Regulus, you ought brush up on your Muggle mythology a bit --”
“I don’t care.” Regulus sat up with a sigh. “Sirius, you’re a hypocrite.”
“And you are so pure and so honest? And you care about Severus so very much? I
don’t think that’s true, do you?”
“It isn’t true,” Regulus said, after a long silence. “I’ve never been pure,
never honest. But I’ve never pretended to be good or courageous either.”
“No, you haven’t done that,” Sirius said, and he pulled himself away. He didn't
look at Regulus as he went, and it seemed to Regulus that he was more
embarrassed than angry. Regulus wanted to call him back, he couldn't find a way
to get the words out.
 
*
It was the spring Sirius had left school. He had been true to his word -- he
hadn’t gone back to Grimmauld Place. But Regulus did go back, as he had every
year for Christmas and for the summer. He was so bored that he thought he would
go mad. Then Narcissa and her new husband came, ostensibly to spend the summer
with the family.
No one in their right mind would choose to spend the summer here -- the house
seemed to soak up all the heat and keep it stored in its walls. Even Narcissa’s
husband, so lily-white and perfect, could be seen sweating slightly during
Regulus’ parents’ interminable evenings at home. To cast a cooling charm would
be to acknowledge one’s discomfort, to acknowledge one’s discomfort would be
tantamount to admitting that their hosts had failed at their duties.
So, they all sat and sweltered instead.
Regulus, when not staring at Lucius until the latter blinked, uncomfortable,
tended to restrict his conversation to Narcissa. Narcissa was sympathetic and
listened more than she spoke. Regulus found himself revealing more to her than
he had planned. He knew it was a risk -- she was Lucius’ wife, and surely
reported back to him all of their conversations -- but Regulus decided that he
didn’t care.
“You must be a lonely here, since Sirius went away,” Narcissa said one night,
as she rested languidly on the horsehair sofa next to his. She looked almost
comfortable in it, which Regulus knew was impossible. The sofa could only have
been harder to sit in if it was made of stone.
“I don’t mind it,” Regulus said.
Narcissa looked at him, and despite the haziness of her expression, it seemed
to him that her gaze was measured and measuring. “Poor Reggie, you are a brave
little man. If you would not mind it, I would have Lucius take you under his
wing. He can be a little -- much -- at times, but believe me, dear, he would
never lead you wrong. After all --”
“I am this family’s only hope,” Regulus said, echoing the sentiments that his
mother had expressed at the dinner table that night.
“Certainly,” Narcissa said. “And besides, you must spend more time with people
your age.”
“Lucius isn’t my age.”
“My dear.”
Hearing the note of reproach in her voice, Regulus said, “I’m sorry.”
“No,” Narcissa said, getting up from her seat and swaying slightly as she stood
and swooped down to him. She pressed a kiss on his cheek. “I am. Very, very
sorry, indeed.”
 
*
After that, it seemed like Regulus went through life in a permanent haze.
Lucius proved not to be such bad company after all. Perhaps the enmity towards
him that Regulus had inherited from Sirius was not warranted. And his friends -
- they were even better. They treated Regulus with all the respect he deserved,
and even more. They could see that he was brilliant as well as handsome as well
as a true paragon of Pureblood ideals. It was such a pity that one such as
Regulus should be so alone, when there were so many others like him, others who
wished only to save wizarding Britain from those who did not deserve her.
His parents approved of his new friends, though they never told him in so many
words.
He met the Dark Lord only once, fear fighting with excitement in his veins.
It was only afterwards, with the Dark Mark burning in his arm, that Regulus
realized that he had made a terrible mistake.
 
*
Regulus caught sight of Sirius as he was leaving the pub, and Sirius had caught
sight of him as well. Rossier, who was walking beside Regulus, asked him what
was the matter.
“Nothing, I've forgotten something. Go on without me.”
Rossier hesitated for a moment and Regulus knew that it was because he had been
warned against him. So Regulus smiled, hoping it would put Rossier at ease. But
it did not do the job, since Rossier’s frown deepened.
“All right, but it's your turn to do the dishes tonight,” Rossier said, after a
moment, and Apparated away.
Regulus turned to where he had last seen Sirius. He could not see him, and
thought that Sirius had gone. He was about to go himself when he was shoved
into an alley and pushed face first against the wall. “You're a Death Eater
now, Regulus? My God, how low can you go?”
Regulus squirmed against Sirius’ hold, felt his brother’s entire body pressed
against him. If he could just stretch an inch or two, he could --
Sirius grabbed his hand and forced it down. “Not one move, or else Peter here
will blow your head off.”
“You're alone, Sirius, same as me,” Regulus said, gasping. “Let me go, for
God’s sake.”
“Why? So you can go on and kill some innocent Muggleborn family?”
“I haven't killed anyone,” Regulus hissed. “I wouldn't.”
“You are a Death Eater -- what do you think your fellows do?” Sirius pressed
against him harder, dragging Regulus, face-first, against the rough brick.
“I know what they do, Sirius, and I'm getting out. But I need to tell you
something first.”
Regulus could heard Sirius’ breathing, heavy against his ear.
“If you’re lying … I swear, Regulus, brother of mine, I will kill you.”
“I'm not,” Regulus said and Sirius let him go. Then, as quick as anything, he
grabbed Sirius’ hand and Apparated them away before Sirius could push him away.
They landed on the floor with a thud and Regulus had to desperately motion for
Sirius to stop before he actually went through with his threat.
“We're home,” Regulus hissed. “Mother and Father are wintering in Italy.
Kreacher brings me food. No one else knows. The -- others think I'm rooming
with Rossier.”
“That's not all they think you're doing with Rossier,” Sirius said darkly.
“Fuck you,” Regulus said, but without heat, and Sirius shrugged.
He got off Regulus and moved around, his wand still trained on him. Regulus had
brought them to Sirius’ old room, forgetting in the heat of the moment that the
place had been stripped of all signs of Sirius’ existence, after his
disinheritance. Even the bed and other furniture had been moved from their old
positions. But Sirius seemed to recognize the room anyway. He looked around,
disinterest written on every line on his body. But he didn't leave. For once in
both their lives, Sirius stayed to see what Regulus wanted.
“You have a traitor in your midst,” Regulus said, deciding to start things off
with the most dramatic piece of information. Sirius reacted, true to form.
“No,” he said flatly.
“Yes. They know everything you do, about James and Lily, and Trelawney’s
prophecy. Sirius, they know things that only one of your friends could have
told them. It's one of yours.”
“No, it can't be,” Sirius said, almost vibrating with fury. He began to pace
back and forth on the bit of floor in front of Regulus. He pulled his hand
through his hair and began to mutter to himself, shooting Regulus suspicious
looks all the while. Finally, he said, “Do you know who it is?”
Regulus shook his head. A malicious thought entered his head. Let him think it
was Remus. “Only a few people close to Him know. Even Severus doesn't know. Or
at least he hasn't told me.”
“Severus!” Sirius gave him a twisted smile. “How is that dear ball of grease?”
“We don't talk, in general.” Severus and he had stopped being friends so
suddenly and so completely that Regulus still felt surprised, thinking back to
a time that they had been.
“You said you were getting out,” Sirius said, holding out his hand and helping
Regulus up. “You’re running to the Continent?”
Regulus shook his head.
“Regulus…”
“I can't tell you the details, but I found something that could bring Him down,
once and for all.”
“Then why keep it a secret? Tell the Order, shout it to the rooftops!”
“If He should get wind of it, He would change it and kill me. No, it has to be
a secret. It has to be. Sirius, I --” Regulus looked down. “I am sorry. I can't
blame anyone else for why I'm here. And you were right, anyway. I've always -
- I’ve always loved you -- but not -- as a brother should.”
Sirius groaned and shook his head. Then he leaned down and kissed Regulus hard
on the mouth. When they pulled away, Regulus felt dazed, like he hadn't enough
air to breath. Sirius leaned against him, until their foreheads touched.
“Simon Magus' left bollock, you're seventeen,” Sirius said with a sigh. “You
should be having it off with -- boys, I suppose, getting pissed and messing
with brooms. You shouldn't be trapped in a suicidal death cult, and in love
with your brother.”
“Well, no one’s perfect. Besides, Sirius, you're nineteen -- not much of a
difference--” He trailed off, when Sirius was kissing him again. “You don't,
you know, you don't have to do this.”
“I know,” Sirius said, pushing him toward the bed. “If you weren't an entirely
a near-sighted prick, you may have noticed by now that I'm not exactly a
picture of normalcy myself.”
“Don't be so stupid, Sirius.” Regulus’ legs hit the end of the bed and he sat
down heavily. “Of course I noticed.”
Sirius peeled off Regulus’ robes and Regulus fumbled with the flies of Sirius’
jeans. “Why do you like these things?” he said in disgust, as his knuckle
grazed on the teeth of the zipper.
“Regulus, what is the point of being young and fit if you're going to hide it
under a fucking robe?”
Regulus considered this. “All right, yes.”
They were both naked now, more or less, and stared at each other for a moment,
at a loss as what what to do. Tentatively, Regulus reached out and ran a hand
across Sirius’ chest. “I want you to fuck me.”
Sirius closed his eyes for a moment, and then opened them again. He looked at
Regulus, more intently than he ever had. Regulus felt absurdly like covering
up, shivering as he was in the cold of the room. Almost absentmindedly, Sirius
muttered a charm, and the warmth and light flared around them, too much of it,
before it settled down to a more muted glow.
“Sirius,” Regulus said, “if you’re doing this out of pity…”
“God, for once in your life, Regulus, could you just --” Sirius pushed him down
to the mattress. “Could you just not think for a while. Don’t worry, just let
it happen.”
“Is that what you do,” Regulus said, trying to keep up with how Sirius worked,
as he had all his life. Belatedly, he noticed that he did look different now
than he had at school. There was an edge to him now, a weariness that Regulus
was sure that hadn’t been there before. But there were other differences.
Before -- Sirius would never have agreed to do this with him. Sirius never
would --
The thought occurred to him, like a stab in the dark. This could be a trap, and
if it was, he had already said too much. Regulus reached out and touched
Sirius’ face, tracing the contours of his face. Sirius blinked.
“What’s the matter?”
“Nothing,” Regulus said. “I’m damned anyway. Do your worst.”
Sirius rolled his eyes. “Overdramatic as always.”
“You’re one to talk,” Regulus said, but then Sirius lined their cocks together
and began to move. Neither of them seemed interested in talking any longer. It
felt so very good, to grind against Sirius’, to feel his skin, his hands
gripping Regulus’ sides so hard they left bruises. Regulus had been wanting so
long that now that he had it, his mind whirred frantically, trying to commit it
all to memory.
Despite the rumors, Regulus had not done this before. And the more Sirius
touched him, the more Regulus wanted to touch him, until he was almost startled
when Sirius pulled away, and got up. He bent down and felt around for a loose
baseboard. He found it quickly enough wrenched it loose, releasing a small
shower of contraband on the floor. A short time ago, Regulus would have been
agog at things Sirius wanted to hide, but now he was only amused that Sirius
had chosen to hide his things in such a predictable place. But then again -- it
had worked, hadn’t it?
Sirius came clambering back with some rubbers and a tube of lubricant. Regulus
squirmed uncomfortably at the cool, wet touch of the lubricant, and Sirius
rubbed his sides to soothe him, as if he was a horse. Regulus would have
resented it more it if it didn’t work so well. He wanted to ask how Sirius knew
how to do this, who he had done this with, but the words didn’t come to his
tongue. He didn’t really want to know, after all.
Sirius was right. He thought too much.
But, thought a sly voice in his head, soon enough he wouldn’t have to think at
all. Wouldn’t that be a relief?
A blessed, blessed relief.
*
Sirius’ bed was an old, wrought-iron, Edwardian monstrosity that creaked every
time someone moved in it. So, of course, once they had started -- after a few
missed tries, with Sirius hissing imprecations every time until finally his
cock went in and Regulus stiffened under him. He groped upwards, for something
to steady him, and grabbed one of the metal rods of the headboard. Every time
Sirius thrust in, the bed shook and squeaked.
Once he had gotten used to the sensation of it -- proof, no doubt, that humans
could get used to anything -- Regulus waited for it to feel good. His legs were
up, half bent on either side of Sirius’ body, and he could see Sirius huffing
and puffing above him. Sirius had pushed his hand away, and he was using the
bars of the headboard as a way to haul himself up and in.
Regulus wanted for it to feel good, as good as he'd read about. But there was
nothing besides a dull sort of pleasure, generated as much through friction, it
seemed, than anything else. Regulus grabbed a hold of Sirius’ left buttock and
squeezed.
“You’re doing it wrong,” he hissed at Sirius. Sirius rolled his eyes and told
him to touch himself.
Regulus frowned, but did what he was told. That was better, but Regulus was
ready to write the whole thing off as a failed experiment when Sirius, his
rhythm flagging slightly, thrust in especially hard and his cock seemed to bump
against something that made Regulus’ toe curl up. He gasped to Sirius, “Do that
again.”
With a smug smile. Sirius did. Regulus whimpered, defeated. He came soon after
that, and quick on its heels, so did Sirius. Regulus was content to just stare
unseeing at the ceiling afterward, but Sirius was busy. He banished the
stickiness from their skins, and his used rubber too. Dreamily, Regulus
wondered at the fates of things just vanished away, and blinked when Sirius
jostled him, as he jumped back into bed.
“Right, tomorrow, we'll go to Dumbledore, and he'll figure what to do. It'll
take some time for the Order to come around to the idea of an ex-Death Eater in
their ranks, but I'll vouch for you.”
“Sirius,” Regulus said, pressing a kiss on Sirius’ shoulder. He didn't look his
brother in the eye. “I know what I have to do. Dumbledore --” He shook his
head, not certain how much of his one, secret meeting with Dumbledore he should
mention, even to Sirius. “I have to do it alone.”
“You don't, you just want to -- you just want to die.” Sirius said this
bitterly and Regulus could not contradict him.
“If I have to,” Regulus said, avoiding Sirius’ burning glare. “It's my duty,
and no one else's.”
“You never met an obligation you didn't like,” Sirius said with a sigh.
“You never met one you could stand. Kiss me again, Sirius.”
And Sirius complied. It was a good kiss, slow and full of so much tenderness
that it shook something inside Regulus. He pulled away first, and grinned. “Are
we the first, do you think, to do this? In our family, I mean.”
“I very much doubt it.”
“Usually it's cousins,” Regulus said. “To be fair.”
“Go to sleep, Regulus,” Sirius said, and horribly, unacceptably, he ruffled
Regulus’ hair, apparently unaware what effect this typically brotherly gesture
might seem, once you had actually slept with your brother. Regulus drifted off,
not wanting to be the one to tell him.
*
Regulus woke to the sound of a rattling dishes. “Put it over there, Kreacher,”
he said, still half-asleep. Instead, he heard a crash and a howl that jolted
him awake, he found Kreacher standing on one of the chairs on the side the
room, holding up a tray like it was a shield, and Sirius, beside him, laughing
his head off.
“You may go, Kreacher,” Regulus said, “I’ll clean that up later. I trust you
will remember not to speak of this to anyone.”
The look Kreacher gave him was a mix of such horror and betrayal that Regulus
wanted to hide his face in the bedsheet. Sirius was still snickering as
Kreacher gave a subdued assent and went out the door.
Then Sirius got up briskly and began to dress. Regulus laid in bed and watched
him. As soon as he finished, he turned and looked at Regulus.
“Well, this is goodbye, then,” Sirius said, looking more awkward than Regulus
had ever seen him, after puberty anyway.
“Yes,” Regulus said, and, because he could never resist needling Sirius after
all. “You know, once I’m dead, there’ll never be anyone who will understand why
you are the way that you are.”
“That is too bad,” Sirius said cooly. “Because I could have sworn you didn’t
understand either.”
“As much as anyone can,” Regulus amended, with a half-smile. “Goodbye, Sirius.”
Sirius grinned, and muttered something that sounded like brat, and Apparated
away.
Regulus sat up. His body ached, but not unpleasantly. He knew he needed to make
peace with Kreacher, and then write a letter. And after that, he would go and
face his destiny.
It was as it should be.
End Notes
     Thank you, toujours_nigel for beta-ing this. I really appreciate it.
     All remaining mistakes are mine.
     The title and summary taken from The Feelies' song of the same name.
     Go_and_listen.
Please drop_by_the_archive_and_comment to let the author know if you enjoyed
their work!