Closed Doors

Regulus pressed his ear tighter against the wooden door listening intently to the conversation on the other side of it. It was beneath Blacks to eavesdrop, beneath them to have to use a muggle method to gather information and so not worthy of a Black. Blacks did blackmail and threaten, not hide away in shadows of hallways like a coward.
"…is the eldest daughter of the Krum family. The Krums have excellent connections in Eastern Europe, Sirius."
"I will not marry someone I don't love!" Sirius exclaimed and Regulus winced at the volume of his brother's voice.
"Love?" Walburga Black echoed. She sounded repelled; disgusted at the mere thought of the prospect of something that was an emotion and not profit orientated. Regulus did not have to see her to know that her eyes were blazing.
"You're the heir to the Noble and Most Ancient House of Black. Love is none of your concerns."
A soft chuckle escaped Regulus' lips. Mother was right, of course she was. Who needed love? Every normal being, except Walburga Black, of course.
"It's your duty to ensure to the continuity of the pure Black line," she emphasised.
"What if I don't want that?" Sirius asked challengingly. A tone Regulus had heard from his mouth so very often that he just knew Sirius had his arms crossed defiantly before his chest and had raised his chin a few inches, using his height to attempt a stare-down with his own mother.
"You seem to be under the impression that you're given a choice-"
"Am I not?" A question so simple and naïve Regulus already knew that today would end worse than other days. Today, hell would go down.
"No, you're not."
"But I am choosing," said Sirius. The bitterness and finality in his voice send a shiver down Regulus' spine. Sirius hardly ever spoke with sobriety. People saw him as a prankster, a mischief-maker and a joker, but Regulus saw Sirius' humour for what it really was: a protect mechanism, developed to keep what happened at Grimmauld Place 12 behind locked bars.
"Beg your pardon?"
Regulus should have left the moment Sirius had decided to finally raise his voice against their mother. He should have stopped eavesdropping and gone to his room, to read or write a letter to his friends.
"You heard me. You can't make me marry someone. You have no right to make decisions about my life!"
"I am your mother!" shrieked Walburga, and Regulus found himself unable to leave.
"Really?" He heard Sirius ask. "So what are you going to do, mother?"
"Please stop talking," Regulus whispered. He closed his eyes and as he waited for his mother to retaliate anxiety crept up to him and seized his breath.
"Whatever necessary to make you-"
"Make me what?" Sirius was calm, surprisingly and frighteningly calm. Sirius did not do calm, not in an argument. "Obey? Follow your plans?"
"How dare you interrupting me!"
"Just like that. It's fairly easy you see." Sirius would be smirking, Regulus thought. It would be a good moment for him to smirk. "You try and make me do something I don't want. Just try."

Before Regulus could retreat into one of the dark shadows, the door opened and Sirius walked out radiating anger and power as he fled the fury beast who was their mother. A curse missed Sirius' figure by inches but he did not even seem to notice, in fact, he looked like he had not even seen Regulus standing suspiciously close by the door. Another curse followed, but Sirius did not retaliate. Regulus was certain that if he needed to Sirius would overpower his mother any day without too much effort. Sure, Walburga breathed, ate and drank Dark Magic with every fibre of being but she was not a match for Sirius, who was a force of nature. Something their mother had clearly forgotten.
Walburga kept yelling and shouting about blood traitors and shame to the family as Regulus followed Sirius up the stairs in a relatively safe distance. Some of the steps creaked under his feet. The noise made Regulus cringe inwardly. His gut was churning with discomfort and nausea, if his mother would catch him eavesdropping, eavesdropping on her he would be deader than dead.

The door to Sirius' room was shut. Tentatively Regulus knocked. He knew very well what a curse cast by his brother felt like and it was not something he had the desire to have the pleasure with any time soon. Footsteps came closer and stopped directly behind the door.
"It's me," Regulus said quietly. The door handle moved slightly downwards. "Please open the door."
Silence on the other side. Regulus sighed and shook his head at himself. He was unworthy of being a Black. Blacks did not sigh. Not ever. "Sirius, please, let me in." Blacks did not beg.
There was some shuffling and eventually, after what seemed like eternity for Regulus, a soft 'click' sounded and the door was unlocked.
"Didn't know you know such a word," Sirius muttered as he opened the door wide enough for Regulus to enter. Regulus shot him a dark look through narrowed eyes and Sirius was reminded that his brother had just as much of a temper as he did himself, only that Regulus hid it much better behind a cold, calculating façade. Never a smile. Regulus had never been awfully cheerful or even happy. Happiness was a foreign word in the Noble and Most Ancient House of Black.
Sirius' room looked less messy than usual. Though the doors and drawers of his wardrobe stood open and books piled next to his huge bed, the spacious room seemed lifeless. From the countless photographs Sirius had of himself and his friends only one was left on the wall. And Regulus would have bet his inheritance that no one would ever be able to take down either the picture or any of the posters of motorcycles and half-naked muggle girls. He secretly admired Sirius' nerve, knowing that he would never be truly free to act like Sirius did without a second thought. He was the perfect son, he had to stay perfect and in his parent's favour. His eyes fell on the trunk that stood in the middle of the room.
"Where do you think you're going?" he asked unable to take his eyes off the trunk and meet Sirius' eyes. He was afraid his brother would consider him with the same expression he had reserved for the rest of the family, excluding their grandfather Lord Arcturus Black and Regulus.
Sirius looked up from his hands at his brother's low voice having heard the unsaid accusation. Why are you leaving me? Was what Regulus meant. Sirius ran a hand through his long hair. It had not been his plan for Regulus to see him packing. Running away was not something a brother did, a good brother anyways, but Regulus would be fine. Regulus was soft and naïve enough to always do as told, never to object and to obey like a mindless puppet. Too loyal to their family for his own good and too young to see what Sirius could see. If Regulus knew how to keep his mouth shut, he would be fine. He was always fine.
"Away," Sirius managed to say.
Regulus nodded. He swallowed heavily and licked his dry lips. "Where?" His fingers were cold and sweaty as he awaited Sirius' answer like the inevitable stroke of a sword in an arena full with gladiators and he being the only one unarmed. It was a simple question, requiring a simple answer but Sirius remained silent for such a long time that Regulus thought his brother had not heard him, no, did not think he was important, worthy enough to even know.
"It's okay. You don't need to tell me," he said as the answer finally blurted out of Sirius "The Potters'!"
Once again Regulus nodded. Warily he eyed the closed door behind Sirius as if he was expecting someone to burst into the room at any given moment. Who knew who had heard Sirius' last words? There were eyes and ears everywhere in this house. With as much cold detachment as he could gather, Regulus said "Mother won't be happy about it."
Finally he met Sirius' stormy grey eyes. "Mother's never happy about anything, Regulus."
Both grimaced at the memory of their mother's understanding of 'happiness'.

Regulus hated it when his brother was right, and unfortunately, in nine out of ten cases his idiotic brother was just that. He squared his shoulders. Not that it made much of a difference: He was rather scrawny for his age and the muscles he had put on playing Quidditch did not help matters. It was a side effect of the inbreeding that the Black family prided themselves with, after all, purity came before sanity and Regulus had had the misfortune to have a weak immune system as if being a mere replacement for his brother was not bad enough to begin with.
"How long will you stay?" he questioned and eyed Sirius' most prized possessions in the trunk. Their message was clear, Sirius would not come back. He was packing to stay gone and away from the family, away from him.
"You won't come back," Regulus stated aloud. He saw guilt spark up in Sirius' eyes and it was answer enough. He took a deep breath and slowly released it. "Would you have even told me that you're leaving?"
"You don't have to do everything they do," Sirius evaded answering and walked over to his wardrobe, throwing robes and other clothing items into his trunk.
"If you walk out the front door I won't have any other choice, but to do everything they do," Regulus retaliated and watched Sirius tense.
"Don't make this about me," Sirius replied and turned to face his brother. "I don't want to fight with you."
"Again, you walk out the door and you'll be my enemy."
Sirius' eyes grew cold. He clenched his hands into fists, shaking with anger and frustration at his stupid little brother. "For once in my life I'd wish you'd be more like me," he pressed out through gritted teeth.
"What, and run away like you?" Regulus asked and a mirthless smile flashed over his lips that seemed paler than usual. Sirius was stupid, incredibly stupid, and so stupid to believe that their parents would risk losing both of the two male descendants of the House of Black. Unlike Sirius he could not disappoint them. He could not raise his voice against them. He had to be the perfect son, because they would not hesitate to eliminate him if he was not. Sirius was who they cared about. What did it matter that he was the white sheep in a family as black as their name? What did it matter that Sirius was a mud-blood and blood-traitor loving idiot? Sirius, Sirius, Sirius. He had no one but Sirius to keep him away from the dark, to keep him human. Sirius, that traitor. The temperature of the room dropped about ten degrees. Ice flowers appeared on Sirius' window. Sirius' eyes widened.
"In case you've forgotten, Sirius, the only reason I'm alive is to take your place in case you fuck up!" Regulus snapped and the crystal chandelier above their heads shattered. Crystal shards flew through the air like snowflakes in a storm. Instinctively Sirius casted a protective shield around his brother and himself.
"Regulus?" he asked tentatively after the last crystal shard hit the wooden floorboards.
It took Regulus a second to wipe the anger off his face. His blank mask fell easily into place, but Sirius could see one emotion chase the other in his eyes. "I'm sorry."
"Didn't know you know such a word," Regulus repeated Sirius' earlier words.
"You're an idiot," Sirius said.
"And you're a drama queen," Regulus replied with the slightest hint of amusement.
"Do you still have the picture grandfather Arcturus took when you turned seven?" Sirius asked and Regulus frowned at the sudden change of topic.
"I… I think so, yes. Would you like me to get it?" He was reluctant to leave Sirius' room. Though he knew his brother well enough to know that Sirius would do anything not to have his brother here with him as he packed his life into a trunk, but he also knew that Sirius was a Black through and through, no matter how much he tried to fight it. Sirius was ruthless and would wait for him to leave to search for the picture to take his flight.
"If you don't mind," Sirius answered lightly.
Regulus tried to copy his brother's face with that idiotically happy grin on his lips into his memory, but every time he'd close his eyes and told himself to turn around the picture of his brother was gone.
"Will you wait?" he asked finally. It was his way to tell Sirius that he would actually like to say goodbye to him, and not for him to vanish without it. He opened the door.
"You're my brother," Sirius said instead. The words made the hairs on Regulus' arm stand up. He ran out of the door and into his room. He knew he had the picture. He knew where it was. He just had to find it. Sirius would be on his way in a few moments. The clock on Regulus' wall told him that his father would be home in a few minutes and Sirius would not dare to leave once their father was home. Regulus pushed parchment scrolls and letters off his desk. Several books hit the floor. A soft 'plop' beside him made him aware of Kreacher standing next to him.
"Master Regulus looking for something?" the house elf asked not unkindly.
"Yes, the picture Lord Arcturus took of Sirius and me on my seventh birthday," Regulus said in one breath. The elf nodded and snapped its bony fingers. Almost instantly the photograph appeared on the desk. Regulus left his room with a grateful look at the elf. He stumbled, ungracefully, un-Black-like over his own feet into Sirius' room.
"I found it," he said and rose to his feet. The room was empty. There was no sign of Sirius or his trunk and the wardrobe doors had been closed. His bed cover was even thrown over his blanket and pillow. The golden and red colours seemed to taunt Regulus, who stood frozen and panting for breath with the picture in his hands. In it Sirius held Regulus in a headlock, ruffling his hair and whispering things into his ear. Little Regulus even laughed freely. Whatever Sirius had said must have been funny, and he replied, making Sirius bent over with joy.
Regulus stroke his thumb over the picture and closed his eyes as the front door was slammed shut. Of course Sirius would leave without even giving him a chance to say goodbye. Tearful moments was not was the Black family was known for. Regulus bit his lip until he could taste something warm, salty and coppery in his mouth.

"You won't need this any longer." A heartless voice said from behind him.
Sudden, cold fear gripped Regulus' heart. "Mother," he breathed and tightened his grip on the picture. It was all he had left from his brother, the traitor who went off on his own, leaving him to protect himself.
"My favourite son," Walburga whispered venomously. She placed her hands onto Regulus' thin shoulders and pulled him close. More a threat than a sign of genuine affection. Regulus shivered at her touch.
"Mother," he said carefully, "where's my brother?"
He cringed as his mother buried her nails into his robe so hard that he could feel them leaving marks on his skin. "Do not talk about that abomination, Regulus. He is no son of mine!"
Regulus gave a curt nod. He did not dare to ask what happened, even though he had heard most of Sirius and mother's conversation. His mother was still furious. It would be suicidal trying to talk about Sirius. Slowly he tried to shove the picture into the pocket of his robe, but long, pale fingers were wrapped around his left wrist from behind.
"Show me," Walburga demanded. Her warm breath burnt Regulus' ear as he held the picture out for her to see. Her grip tightened. Frozen and in horror Regulus watched as the picture lit up. Flames licked on the laughing, younger versions of his brother and himself. The heat hurt but he could not let go of the silly photograph. It was the only one he had with his brother. His fingers glowed light blue the same moment the fire touched them. It did not take long. The picture turned black, convolved on the edges and turned to grey ash.
"What a waste of magic," Walburga commented with a glance at his still glowing hand. "Follow me," she continued, "and close the door after you."
Paralysed Regulus stared at the ash in his palm. He looked around Sirius' room and memories overwhelmed him. It had taken him less than a week to read all of Sirius' books and Sirius had called him a nerd. When they were younger he had sneaked into Sirius' bed whenever there was a thunderstorm outside, and the huge, black ink stain on the floor near Sirius' desk was the result of a wandless fight, which he had won by simply using wandless magic.
Regulus turned his palm and the ash fell to the floor. Sirius was gone and he wouldn't come back. He heard his mother call his name and closed the door behind him without another look. Under his breath his muttered a spell, warding the room against anyone with no good feelings towards Sirius. Then he hurried, not too much, after all Blacks did not run, to join his mother and found her in the room with the family tree.
His mother eyed him disdainfully. "You certainly took your time," she drawled.
"Why are we in this room?" Regulus asked and instantly regretted it as the expression in his mother's eyes turned furious. "Do not dare questioning me, Regulus Arcturus Black!"
Regulus winced and nodded, looking anywhere but his mother. His eyes fell on burnt holes in tapestry all of them belonged to blood-traitors, abominations and people who brought shame over the Noble and Most Ancient House of Black. He knew the family tree at grandfather Arcturus' house was spotless. Being a fairly decent being did not make you less of a family member in his eyes. A few inches to the right of his mother Regulus found Sirius and himself on the tapestry. He held his breath and his eyes wandered over the spots of his cousins Narcissa, Bellatrix and Andromeda. Above Andromeda's name was only burnt material and Regulus failed to remember her face. It would be the same with Sirius. Sirius would be burnt off the tapestry and with it, his memory would fade, become less detailed until he would not be able to remember him at all.
"Regulus!" his mother's shrill voice reached his ears and he pulled his eyes away from the tapestry.
"Yes, mother?"
Walburga narrowed her eyes and Regulus instinctively reached for his wand. Not that he would ever raise his wand against his mother. Ha, no. Just knowing it was there though was reassuring. "You will burn him off the tapestry, Regulus. He brought shame over the house of my fathers and their fathers. He is no more than a filthy blood-traitor and not worthy of the House of Black."
Dully, Regulus noticed that she had not said Sirius' name once, since the front door had been slammed.
"It'd be my pleasure," he replied flatly and pointed his wand at the tapestry. His hand trembled ever so slightly. He was a disgrace of a brother. Sirius deserved better, he thought and felt his mother's expectant gaze resting upon him. Impatience was radiating from her and spread through the room like a particularly nasty disease. Regulus knew he could not disappoint her. He had to be perfect, now more than ever before. Sirius had failed. But he would not disappoint his mother like Sirius, like the traitor, like his brother. No. He had to get it right. He had to keep her content.
The tapestry above Sirius' name caught fire. He did not have a brother any longer. He was the only heir to the Noble and Most Ancient House of Black.

Miles away Sirius unpacked his trunk. Guilt made his stomach revolt as he found crystal shards between his books and his clothes. Regulus would be fine. He always was.