Chapter Text
ACT I: birthright
Regulus
⋆˙
It was with smoke in his lungs and ash falling from the sky that Regulus wondered how deep the roots went.
How long had they been digging their gnarled claws into the world? Into him?
His vision blurred into shades of red and orange as the world burned. If he squinted, it was almost like looking at the sunset.
The chorus of screams and the shout of curses broke that illusion. A streak of red light whizzed past Regulus, and he ducked behind the smoking ruins of a building, barely avoiding a stunner to the face. It was hard to catch his breath when he was choking on ash and dust.
Regulus’ hands were clammy, his wand slipping in his grip as he peeked around his cover.
Bellatrix was dueling someone gleefully, jumping and skipping over debris and flames. Her opponent was keeping up well enough, but they’d tire eventually. Bella would not. She lived and breathed for this.
The dueling pair disappeared, and Regulus breathed a sigh of relief, glad he wouldn’t be forced to join. He’d already sent a cutting curse through someone’s chest tonight. He didn’t even know who it was under the cloak they wore. Man or woman, former friend, or not. He didn’t know if they were dead or alive.
It wouldn’t be the first, but secretly, he hoped he hadn’t delivered the killing blow.
He'd watched blood spill, staining the earth, and he’d run before he could face his pitiful conscience. Guilt, regret, disgust, remorse. Those weren’t things Death Eaters felt.
Those weren’t things the Black heir ought to worry himself with.
I am Regulus Black. I am not weak. The words looped in his mind, a mantra that felt less convincing the more years that passed.
I am not weak.
I’m… not. I’m not weak?
Squaring his shoulders, Regulus fixed his grip on his wand and rose, turning back to the fight.
This was his birthright after all.
Sirius
⋆˙
Marlene’s blood was soaking through Sirius’ robes. He could feel it, wet against his chest as he held her up. They stumbled together as their feet hit the ground at the apparition point. Sirius straightened them, grunting as he tried to keep Marlene standing.
“Just a little further,” he panted. “We’re almost at the safe house.”
“Mhm,” Marlene replied unhelpfully, her voice faint. That wasn’t good.
Sirius hastened their pace as much as he dared, seeing a light in the distance.
He didn’t know how he managed to get the two of them through the last leg of the journey. Marlene was barely conscious, and Sirius was practically dragging her, but he knew he had to get her to safety. If he had to crawl there on his hands and knees while dragging Marlene behind him, then that was what he’d do.
Everything became a blur of warmth and light as soon as they fell through the safe house doors. There were hands pulling them inside and voices speaking over each other.
“What was she hit with?” someone asked, though Sirius couldn’t place who. He could barely breathe.
“C-cutting curse,” Sirius panted.
“Sit,” a soft voice instructed. There was a flash of red hair as warm hands pushed him into a chair.
“We need to stop the bleeding…”
Sirius’ mind cleared as warmth slowly returned to his skin and his racing heart slowed.
Marlene was laid out on a makeshift stretcher. Molly Weasley was at Lily’s side, fetching her supplies and providing an extra pair of hands as Lily worked.
The color was leeched from Marlene’s face, and her eyes were closed. Even from the other side of the room, Sirius could see the way her chest rose and fell with each ragged breath.
“Did you see who did it?”
Sirius looked up. Remus was at his shoulder, lips pursed and arms crossed as he watched their injured friend. Sirius allowed himself a quick once-over to assess Remus’ condition. His robes were torn at one sleeve, and there was a cut across his cheek, but otherwise, he seemed unharmed.
“A masked Death Eater,” Sirius muttered. “Hard to pick them out from each other. It hardly matters anyway. They all deserve the same fate. Fucking coward ran as soon as he cursed Marlene. Otherwise, I would have given him a taste of his own medicine…”
“I know,” Remus said quietly. He reached out, squeezing Sirius’ shoulder. “C’mon, let’s leave them to work. The others should be on their way here now to debrief.”
Sirius nodded, rising slowly and following Remus into the dining room.
It’d been turned into a makeshift war room. A board hung on the wall detailing Death Eater movements and occupancies. Another held the face and name of every known Death Eater as well as their strengths and weaknesses (if they had them).
Alastor Moody was grumbling something, limping on his wooden leg as he discarded his curse-torn cloak on the back of a chair. Frank Longbottom seemed to have just arrived as well, and Alice was wiping soot from his face, her brow furrowed, as she looked him over.
“I’m fine, Alice,” Frank protested, but he didn’t swat her hands away.
“Did we take any prisoners?” Sirius asked Moody. He didn’t bother asking if they’d succeeded in pushing the Death Eaters out of their occupied territory. They wouldn’t all be back here so soon if they had.
Maybe it didn’t even matter. What had once been a Muggle town was now nothing more than a pile of ash.
“No,” Moody grumbled, his voice hoarse. “We’re waiting on a few more stragglers to rendezvous, but none have sent word of a hostage.”
“Fuck,” Sirius sighed. He pulled out a chair, collapsing into it with a groan. “So this entire thing was useless?”
“It wasn’t,” Alice spoke up. Her voice was firm. “We were able to evacuate a majority of the remaining Muggle hostages. That’s lives saved, it wasn’t useless at all.”
“She’s right,” Remus agreed. “We may not have gained any new information, but at least innocent people are safe.”
Sirius knew they were right. Of course, those lives mattered. That wasn’t a failure. Sirius was a failure.
Once again, he’d come back empty-handed.
“Is Dumbledore joining us tonight?” he asked suddenly. “Doesn’t he have any new intel?”
“Dumbledore is currently indisposed,” Moody said gruffly. “If he had any information on where the prisoners were being held, we’d know already. You could do with learning some patience, boy.”
“It’s hard to be patient when my best friend has been missing for months—” Sirius stepped forward, raring for a fight. Remus cut him off. A firm hand pushed Sirius down into a seat, eyes flashing.
“You’re not the only one who wants to find James, Sirius. We’re doing everything we can. We just have to do our jobs and let everyone else do theirs.”
“It doesn’t feel like enough,” Sirius snapped.
“It’s not,” Moody said, his gaze cutting as he surveyed Sirius. “But we don’t have the manpower to do anything more. So quit your whining, unless you can get us a few hundred more witches and wizards.”
Sirius shut his mouth at that. Their numbers were low. Even as the war grew, most people preferred to take their families and hide rather than put their lives on the line. On the other side, many had already begun submitting to Voldemort in hopes they’d be spared.
It was only a matter of time. How long until the Death Eaters overthrew the Ministry? How long until they took complete control of the wizarding world?
How little the Order could do.
Sirius couldn’t even save his best friend.
Regulus
⋆˙
Malfoy Manor was cold. The chill was different from Grimmauld Place. The manor was the kind of place where footsteps echoed and every surface felt as if it were made from ice. Even ghosts and monsters didn’t dare lurk in the shadows. It was empty, hollow.
A prison, in more ways than one.
The Dark Lord wanted a base, and Lucius was more than willing to offer his home up in proof of his devotion to the cause. It’d gotten him what he wanted; he was practically the Dark Lord’s right-hand man now. Except for Bellatrix, of course, but no one had the bloodlust or the madness to oust Bella from her place.
Regulus’ footsteps didn’t echo. He was learned in moving without leaving a trace. The only sound in the manor halls was the snores of sleeping portraits and his own quiet breath.
He walked his path, something in his gut tugging him forward no matter how many times he told himself that this time he wouldn’t.
There was no need for guards in the makeshift prison beneath the house, not with the dementors lurking outside. Regulus slipped easily through the wards, ignoring the chill they left on his skin. He didn’t dare light his wand, letting the faint light from the small window above lead the way.
Most of the prisoners were tucked in the corners of their cells. They were too drained by the dementors to even lift their heads, much less to notice someone was there. Regulus’ feet were soft on the stone floor as he turned the corner, finding the cell that lay at the end.
The prisoner inside had his back to the stone wall. There was more fight in him than in the other prisoners. His head was tilted, watching the silver glow of the moon outside.
“The full moon is soon,” he said, his voice hoarse. Clearly, he’d heard Regulus approach, but he didn’t turn his head. In the first month, he’d refused to acknowledge Regulus’ presence. The second, he’d tried to bargain for his freedom. Now, he seemed to tolerate Regulus as the only company he’d get in this place.
He understood he wasn’t going to be freed.
“Yes,” Regulus said, sitting outside the metal bars of the cell. The image of the moon flashed across his vision, flames raging up to the sky. He could still taste ash in his throat, and he shuddered at the memory.
He wondered if he’d killed that rebel with his cutting curse. He wondered if they were lying dead on those streets now, unseeing eyes staring up at the moon overhead.
The man’s head turned. Despite his weakened state, there was fight in his eyes. Something sharp prickled over Regulus’ skin. “Battling with your guilt tonight, Regulus?” There was a bite to his words, taunting, daring Regulus to say anything of substance.
“I don’t bother with such trivial things.”
“So you say, yet here you are again. I wondered when you’d return.”
“I had a mission. Hopefully you haven’t starved in my absence over the past few days.” Shaking back his cloak, he pushed a piece of bread and an apple through the bars.
“They fed me a few times.” He scooted forward across the stone floor, moonlight falling across his face. His messy black hair was getting even longer, knotted and unruly around his face. The crack in his round glasses glinted in the light as he quickly snatched up Regulus’ offering before moving away like he was afraid he might get burned if he got too close.
“No one would let James Potter die. Blood traitor or not, your blood is still precious.”
“So you’ve said,” James muttered, breaking off a piece of bread with his teeth and chewing it hungrily. “Have you come to renounce your ways and set me free?” James asked as he often did, though Regulus’ answer never changed.
“I can’t do that.”
“Can’t,” James muttered through his mouthful of bread. He swallowed, looking up at Regulus. “It’s always ‘can’t’ with you, isn’t it? You’re too cowardly to admit you won’t.”
“Can’t, won’t, I don’t see the difference in this situation.”
“That’s the problem with you. Among many other problems, of course. First and foremost being you’re a Death Eater with enough blood on your hands to paint this entire prison.”
James was never shy about telling Regulus exactly what he thought of him. Regulus didn’t know why he kept coming back anyway.
“We all have blood on our hands. This is war. Blood spills for the cause.”
“Your cause is pureblood supremacy and total control of a world you have no claim over.”
“Do we not? Were we not here first?” Regulus snapped. “This world belongs to wizard-kind, it’s only a natural progression that we should take it back rather than live in fear under Muggles’ feet.”
“If it has to be taken, then it never belonged to you. And if innocent people have to die, then the price is too high. I don’t give a fuck who was here first. Muggles have always been here. Maybe thousands and thousands of years ago, wizards didn’t have to hide, but that’s an age long gone. We never lost anything by staying hidden. The blood only flows now that your lot has started a war over it.”
Oh, how deep the roots went. Centuries, millennia.
“I don’t see the point in debating this,” Regulus said shortly. “I won’t change my mind, and you won’t change yours.”
“Yet you keep coming back,” James muttered. “Do you enjoy arguing your stance? Does it embolden your belief in your cause to throw it in my face?”
“I believe in my cause.” Regulus bristled, jaw clenching.
James paused at that, a manic sort of smile twisting his lips. As if he’d won. As if Regulus’ response meant James’ victory. “I never said you didn’t.”
Regulus stood suddenly, brushing the dust from his robes. He turned, but James’ voice stopped him.
“Will you tell me this time why you’ve come? Why you insist on continuing to visit me?”
James asked each time, and every time, Regulus didn’t have an answer.
The first time had been curiosity. He knew James Potter was their prisoner, and Regulus was curious to see the man who had stolen his brother away.
Something had changed over the months.
Maybe the true answer was pitiful. Regulus was lonely, and James was a masochistic form of company.
Maybe it was because James Potter was the only sliver of Sirius Regulus had left.
None of the potential reasons painted Regulus in a pretty light. He tried not to dwell on them.
Still, he returned night after night. He fed James and listened to whatever words he had to say. He didn’t know why he listened, but James made his case in a way Sirius never had.
Sirius’ argument consisted of simply calling the Dark Lord’s cause sickening and senseless. James had more intriguing points. He believed in good in a way Regulus had never seen in a person. He had a faith in his side of the war that was just as unshakable as the faith the Death Eaters had in their own.
Regulus didn’t think he believed in anything with that much certainty.
No, he was only a puppet dancing on its strings.
“Goodnight, Potter,” Regulus said, his tone clipped. He turned on his heel, leaving James to his cold cell.
There were things Regulus believed. He believed his parents and the Dark Lord were right; they shouldn’t have to live in fear, hidden underground while the Muggles lived freely.
He didn’t hate Muggleborns or Half-bloods. In fact, he didn’t give a shit about them. Wizards were wizards, in Regulus’ mind. That wasn’t the problem. He didn’t simply accept everything his parents said. Regulus didn’t want genocide. He wanted a restored world for wizards. A world where their culture was valued. Where ideals, society, and even religions were no longer watered down and threatened by Muggle culture.
His mother had been saying it Regulus’ entire life.“How long until we’re killed for our beliefs, for pure blood values that were here first? They will integrate themselves fully into the Muggle world and persecute anyone who disagrees.”
She wasn’t wrong. It was an injustice that they should be stripped and hidden away when they were far more powerful than Muggles.
Wizards should move freely and without fear, especially from an inferior society. Regulus believed in that.
That was about as far as his resolve went. Regulus had a weak stomach, that’s what Bella had always said. He didn’t shoulder the blood and the violence well. He had to remind himself every day what it was for. That he’d chosen this.
Oh, of course, his parents had beamed with pride at his choice, but no one forced his hand. He offered up his arm to the Dark Mark. He’d sealed his fate.
It was only as the days darkened, and the blood seeped into his dreams, that the truth became undeniable.
Regulus Black was a coward with a soft heart.
Sirius
⋆˙
The room was silent.
Nights like this often didn’t feel real to Sirius. Tucked away in his flat in Muggle London, the lights dim and the moon gleaming outside. It felt like a dream, like denial. One tiny space where he could almost believe the war didn’t exist.
He would wake in the morning, lock the door behind him, and set the wards. He’d step back out into the streets and it would all come back in sharp detail.
But right now it was quiet, almost peaceful, if only he could get Marlene’s blood off his robes.
“Those might be a lost cause,” Remus murmured at his shoulder.
Sirius sighed, dropping his soaking robes into the sink. No amount of scrubbing was getting the stain off.
“Maybe I need to brush up on some household charms.” Sirius grimaced.
“Leave them for now, I’ll see what I can do tomorrow. You should rest. You fought hard today.”
Sirius nodded, wiping his hands on a rag and dropping it on the counter. “Not hard enough,” he said bitterly, turning to face Remus. Sirius leaned back against the counter as their eyes met. Something hard and indescribably sad lingered in Remus’ amber eyes.
His lips thinned, jaw clenching as he stared Sirius down. “You can’t be so hard on yourself, you’re doing your best. We all are.”
“Is our best enough to stop the Death Eaters from gaining total control? Because it doesn’t feel like it. It feels like we’re losing, Moony.”
“The war is young still.”
“Yes… That’s what I’m afraid of,” Sirius muttered.
Remus’ gaze softened, his lips curving down in a frown. “Is there anything I can do? Anything that will help?”
“No.” Sirius straightened, heading to the living room. He collapsed on the sofa, his limbs aching with exhaustion. Remus followed, perching on the chair across from him. He cocked his head in question. Sirius shook his head. “The only thing that will help is getting James back. That… and killing my bastard brother.”
Remus’ expression remained carefully blank. He was always cautious when the topic of Regulus came up. “Was he there tonight?”
“He must have been.” Sirius swallowed. “I-I’ve been thinking about that cutting curse… He always did love those.”
“You think he was the one who cursed Marlene?”
“Possibly.” Sirius’ lips twisted in something akin to a snarl. “It hardly matters, does it? She wouldn’t be his first victim. He deserves death either way, and I will destroy him one day for everything he’s done.”
“Vengeance won’t do you much good. That isn’t our mission, Sirius.”
“Maybe it isn’t yours. But we all have things we fight for, don’t tell me you don’t want justice.”
Slowly, Remus shook his head. “I fight for hope, Padfoot. So does James. You’d do well to remember that.”
Sirius rose suddenly. “James isn’t here, Remus! Maybe it’s easy for you to forget, always being away. But I don’t forget, I can’t forget. For all we know, he could be dead! I will burn this whole world down if that’s what it takes to find him and finish the Death Eaters.”
Remus flinched. “I can’t forget, either,” he said, his voice almost a whisper. “I could never. He’s my friend too. You’re not the only one who’s suffering.”
“But you weren’t here,” Sirius said flatly. “It’s on my shoulders.”
“It’s not your fault. Don’t you dare think that for a second.”
“Doesn’t part of the blame belong to me, regardless of what you think? I can never do enough! I couldn’t save James! I couldn’t protect Marlene tonight! I couldn’t stop the Death Eaters. I couldn’t stop my brother from becoming one of them, and I didn’t kill him when I should have!”
“You didn’t know then!” Remus protested, his voice rising in righteous anger. “You thought there was still good in him. You didn’t know any better.”
“But I did,” Sirius snapped. “I’ve always seen that darkness in him, the anger brewing under his skin. I was weak. I humored him for too long because I still saw my baby brother underneath it all. But he’s not there. Whatever I believed him to be as a child, maybe it was never real.”
Remus was quiet for a long moment. Sirius could hear his heart hammering in his ears as he stared Remus down, breathless with anger and hopelessness.
When Remus finally spoke, his voice was soft, his eyes downcast. “It isn’t your fault. It wasn’t your responsibility. You can’t shoulder that burden on your own. Regulus became what he is of his own volition.”
Sirius exhaled, the fire draining out of him. He squeezed his eyes shut, tilting his head toward the ceiling. “I’m not saying that,” he said hollowly. “I’m not saying I could have saved him or changed him, just that I should have killed him before it got this far.”
“But you’re not that kind of person. You’re not like the Death Eaters. You don’t kill people without a very, very solid reason. You wouldn’t be the man I know if you’d done that.”
The man I love, lay unspoken between them. But Sirius heard it in the tenderness of Remus’ voice.
Sirius nodded silently. There were some topics they didn’t touch. Maybe they never would. He fell back onto the sofa, breathing raggedly.
There was the sound of Remus rising, and the sofa dipped as Remus sat down beside Sirius. His hand was soft and warm on Sirius’ arm. He raised his head, and their eyes met.
“Could you do it now? Kill your own brother?” Remus whispered.
“I don’t know. I suppose we’ll find out if I ever get the chance to look him in the eye again.”
Secretly, Sirius had no doubt that he could, but he feared he’d sound manic and violent if he voiced that. He knew deep in his gut that the day would come when the brothers would face each other.
When it did, Sirius might want to hesitate. But Regulus wouldn’t.
Their ties were broken. Regulus was no brother to Sirius, and this time, he’d do the right thing.
__
Every night when Sirius dreamed, he saw the same image.
Regulus Black, his Death Eater mask in tatters. His face was partly covered, but his eyes were unmistakable. Dark as the shadows of death that swept over the wizarding world. A cruel storm brewed in his irises, turning the grey to a pitch black.
Dark clouds seemed to crackle around him, running through his veins, staining his pale skin. Through his broken mask, Sirius watched his lips twist into a cruel smile.
His words echoed through Sirius’ skull. Real words, the last ones Regulus had spoken to him.
“I will take everything from you,” he promised.
In the dreams, his words always came true. The world burned, and Regulus stood in the center of it all, ashes framing his violent glare.
When Sirius woke, Regulus’ eyes lingered behind his eyelids, sending a shiver down his spine.
And he knew it with absolute certainty.
It was Sirius’ responsibility to kill his brother.