3.

Sirius woke with a start, reflexively snatching his wand off the bed-side table.

“Lumos,” he said groggily, then immediately thought better of it and hastily whispered “nox.”

He strained his ears for any suspicious noises, the last vestiges of his dream slipping away as his eyes adjusted to the darkness of his bedroom. After several silent moments Sirius felt his heart-rate slowly return to normal, and he chastised himself for being so paranoid; the Death Eaters had no way of knowing where he lived, and besides that his flat was heavily warded. Other than himself, only his friends and Order members were keyed to enter.

Which is why when, after replacing his wand on the nightstand and settling back down into his comforter, Sirius nearly jumped out of his skin when he heard a low voice whisper his name.

“Arghh!” Sirius yelled, grabbing his wand for the second time that night and launching himself off the bed. “Lumos!” he shouted, spinning wildly around in search of the intruder, but he could see no one.

“Sirius, it’s Regulus!” the voice hissed, but Sirius couldn’t tell where it was coming from. “Stop acting like an idiot and put down your wand!”

Sirius wanted to ask where are you? or how do I know you’re really Regulus? but what came out instead was a derisive, “Are you insane?!? You’re a bloody Death Eater!”

A humorless laugh filled his bedroom. “You’ve got that much right,” the voice said, and suddenly the disillusionment charm ended, and Sirius could see his brother standing in his bedroom doorway.

Sirius gave an involuntary gasp; his brother was covered in blood.

“Here,” Regulus said, tossing down his wand. Out of the corner of his eye Sirius saw it roll beneath his bed, but he didn’t bother to retrieve it; he was riveted on the sight before him. Through the tears in Regulus’s robes Sirius could see deep gashes where blood was congealing over what appeared to be multiple stab wounds. Blood trickled down from a cut on Regulus’s forehead, making the skin not covered in blood even paler by comparison. His right eye was blackened and his lip was split.

“Oh, Reg…” Sirius said, moving forward quickly. Without hesitating he lifted his brother and gently laid him on his bed. Sirius wasn’t surprised that he was able to lift him—even fully grown Regulus was still smaller than his older brother—but Sirius was surprised that he gave no complaint. His wounds must be even worse than they looked for Reg to come to him for help.

“Sirius, I need to talk to you,” Regulus started, wincing as Sirius began administering basic disinfecting charms to his wounds.

“Shhh, don’t talk,” Sirius replied, carefully removing Regulus’s shirt so he could gauge the severity of his wounds. Sirius couldn’t help noticing the Dark Mark on his brother’s forearm, and though he’d known for some time that his brother was in league with Voldemort, it still sent a cold shock through him to see the evidence emblazoned on his brother’s skin. Tearing his eyes away from the grotesque image, Sirius finished inspecting the wounds.

Luckily nothing worse had been hidden by the clothing; in fact, Regulus’s wounds were only slightly more severe than what Remus suffered through on full-moon nights.

“You should be all right,” Sirius said finally, after murmuring a few healing and pain-relief spells. “Whoever did this came after you the Muggle way. I’m not finding any magical signatures on these wounds.”

“I know they did,” Regulus said quietly, closing his eyes. “They wanted to make a statement.”

“They?”

After a moment of tense silence Regulus opened his eyes and met Sirius’s intent gaze. “The Death Eaters.”

Sirius furrowed his brow in confusion. “But why…?”

“The short answer is that I defected,” Regulus said quietly. “The Dark Lord is after me. He sent a few loyal Death Eaters to make a statement—if you’re a Mudblood-lover you get murdered the Mudblood way. Much more painful than Avada Kedavra, at any rate. I imagine the gore appealed to his sense of irony.”

“You defected?" Sirius asked, stunned.

“It’s a long and complicated story,” Regulus replied. “First, you need to know—someone close to the Potters is a traitor.”

Sirius sucked in a breath. “How did you know—“

“—that they’re being hunted? Sirius, the Dark Lord has half of his followers after them. I know he’s being informed by someone. Since you’re the only one of the Potters’ friends I could be sure wasn’t the traitor….”

“This doesn’t make any sense,” Sirius said, his voice rising in frustration. “Why are you telling me this? How do you know all this? Why now?”

Regulus gave his brother a calculating look; his grey eyes looked somewhat sinister in the misty blue light still radiating from Sirius’s wand. After letting a breath out slowly, Regulus said, “Snape told the Dark Lord about the prophesy.”

“But no one’s supposed to know about that but Dumbledore, and me and James—“

“Snape overheard it in the Hog’s Head and reported it to the Dark Lord. I only know this by chance—Lucius Malfoy knew Snape had some kind of leverage when he was suddenly part of the Dark Lord’s inner circle, and of course Malfoy wants the new heir of the Blacks behind him—“

“—so he gave you the information as incentive. Death Eater politics,” Sirius finished, the disgust evident in his voice. “Figures Malfoy would hate Snape, snot-nosed half-blood that he is.”

Regulus nodded warily. “The point is, I found out about the prophesy, and I realized—it’s so obvious--“

“What’s so obvious?”

Regulus looked gravely at his older brother. “Do you know what a Horcrux is?”


*


“A Horcrux?” James repeated, eyes wide behind his wire-framed glasses. “I’ve only heard about them in obscure references to ancient Dark Magic. What has this got to do with the prophesy?”

“According to Regulus, everything,” Sirius answered, running a hand through his hair distractedly. “Look, I don’t know the details, he just appeared in my flat early this morning looking like a very ticked-off hippogriff had sunk its claws into him, telling me he’d defected and that there’s a traitor and—and somehow Snape’s involved in all this—“

“Snape is an idiot,” James said dismissively, waving his hand through the air as though he were trying to get rid of a particularly foul odor. “And anyway, how do we even know your brother’s telling the truth? Sirius, I hate to say it but it’s likely he’s trying to set you up. At school he always was a nasty piece of work, skulking about Hogwarts, following the Slytherin’s lead—“ James abruptly stopped talking; Sirius had covered his face with one hand and his shoulders were shaking.

“James,” Sirius said, his voice thick with tears, “I can’t do this—I don’t know what to do—he’s my brother, I want to believe him, that he’s telling me the truth, but how can I trust someone—a Death Eater— who’s never—he only ever cared about what Mother thought—“

James silently stood from his place on the couch and knelt to embrace Sirius. He had only ever seen Sirius cry once, when he’d ran away from home in fifth year and showed up on his parents’ doorstep looking like death warmed over. But this was different—Sirius wasn’t on the verge of death, for one thing—and holding his best friend wasn’t at all as awkward as it seemed it would be as a teenager. As Sirius buried his face in James’s shoulder James saw Lily standing silently in the doorway, holding a sleeping Harry.

“We’ll figure this out,” James said, speaking to Sirius but looking at Lily. “I’ll come back with you to your flat—since there’s a traitor, we’ll have to keep this between us. And Dumbledore,” he added as an afterthought.

Sirius pulled away from him slowly, looking distinctly embarrassed. “All right. I’ll—I’ll just wash up then,” he said, starting to stand from the couch. James grabbed his arm and squeezed, and Sirius returned his gesture with a shaky smile before James let go.

“Be careful, James,” Lily said a few moments after Sirius had gone, her green eyes intent on her husband.

“I will. I promise. You know I never go looking for trouble.”

Lily gave him a small smile. “Right, of course. It just comes looking for you, is that it?”

“Well, there is one exception,” James said thoughtfully, grabbing his cloak from the hall closet.

“Oh really? And what would that one exception be?”

“When I made it my personal mission in life to marry you.”

“Oh, that wasn’t looking for trouble—that was chasing after it, or perhaps begging for it might be more accurate—“

James silenced her with a gentle kiss, smiling into her mouth. Only Lily could give him moments of levity at a time like this.

“Sorry, I’m ready to—oh,” Sirius broke off, looking guilty for having interrupted. James smiled wickedly at him.

“Just having a bit of a feel with the wife.”

James knew Sirius needed the humor, and Sirius gratefully followed his lead. “In front of your son? You’ll traumatize him.”

“Hardly. He’s slept through much worse.”

“Oh, I didn’t need to hear that—virgin ears—“

James snorted. “Virgin everything, more like.” Sirius turned scarlet, and Lily laughed.

“Ready?” James asked, gripping his wand. Sirius, pointedly ignoring Lily’s giggles, nodded once, then apparated to his flat.

Without a moment’s hesitation, James followed.


*


“Well, this is lovely. Really, after Azkaban this would be my top-choice for holiday. Can’t imagine why we didn’t come here sooner.”

Regulus rolled his eyes at his brother, who grinned back. “Scared already, Sirius? I thought Gryffindors were supposed to be brave.”

Sirius, who actually was a bit unnerved, found that it was a great relief to lose himself in the friendly banter. In fact, he considered it miraculous that he was able to speak to his brother like this—they hadn’t been so friendly to each other since before he’d gone off to Hogwarts.

“Scared? Who said anything about scared?” Sirius said imperiously, scanning the rocky area for any signs of danger. “Didn’t I just say I was ready to build my dream home here? It would look lovely next to that rather precariously-balanced boulder.”

Regulus laughed. “Yes, this would make a great place for the next Black home, since Mother no doubt would have conniptions if her traitorous sons tried to return to Grimmauld. Yes, this will do nicely—much better than that hovel you call a flat.”

Sirius would have punched him on the shoulder if he wasn’t sure his brother wouldn’t fall down the side of the cliff and into the rather ominously churning sea below.

“So, what are we—Regulus, honestly, now is not the time to sun-bathe, you vain git.”

“I’m not sunbathing, you berk. We have to swim. Take off your shirt and anything else you don’t want ruined—and really, you’re calling me vain?”

“It’s rather like the pot calling the kettle Black, eh?” Sirius said, laughing at his own joke. Prongs always said he sounded like a plonker before they attempted to pull off a stupidly dangerous stunt, but even Sirius had to admit he was being a bit ridiculous.

“Make sure you keep your wand with you—and please, your pants as well.”

“I wasn’t going to take of m’pants!” Sirius said reproachfully. Somewhat bewildered, but nonetheless trusting his brother—and Sirius had to grin to himself at the foreign thought—he took off his robes and stood beside Regulus in his undershirt and trousers.

Following Regulus, Sirius swam through the sea to a slit in the rock face. He was sorely tempted to transform into Padfoot, but he wasn’t ready to give up that secret (and by implication, Remus’s secret) yet. Despite the newly-formed rapport he had developed with his brother, there were still many questions he needed Regulus to answer. As much as Sirius wanted to believe in his brother’s loyalty, he couldn’t allow himself the luxury of loving Regulus like he loved James—not yet, not with the war going on around them, with his friends’ lives at stake.

After drying their clothes—“We could have just used Impervius, you know,” Sirius felt obligated to point out— they were both silent as Sirius followed his brother through the fissure and along a dark passageway. Despite his earlier attempts at good humor, Sirius was now in what James had dubbed “Auror-mode”. His body was tense and his movements light, his wand gripped firmly and poised for attack.

“Here,” Regulus muttered, gesturing toward the solid cave wall. Sirius didn’t need Regulus to explain what he meant; he recognized the traces of Dark Magic.

“So what does it need—a password? Don’t tell me we’re going to have to work it out in parseltongue—that would take ages, even with the best translating spell.”

“No—this is a blood sacrifice,” Regulus said, and before Sirius could respond he’d pulled out his wand and muttered a spell that sent blood gushing from his forearm. Grimacing, Regulus took his hand and smeared his blood on the cave surface.

“Here,” said Sirius, grabbing his injured arm and healing it instantly. “Next time warn me before you do something like that!”

“It’s fine. Come on,” Regulus said, leading Sirius through the doorway. Sirius was tempted to ask how his brother had realized it required a blood sacrifice, but he thought he already knew the answer. Even though he had known he and his brother were on opposite teams in an increasingly deadly war, Sirius still felt a fresh wave of disappointment that his brother had been a Death Eater. It was easy to be disgusted and feign contempt on the battlefield when everyone knew Regulus was the enemy, but how was he supposed to react now?

A small part of him couldn’t help wondering exactly what kind of brother Regulus was. His younger self would have said he’s a traitor for being in Slytherin when Sirius had been Gryffindor, but now Sirius had to admit his brother had probably thought the same thing of him—a Black in Gryffindor. So who, exactly, had betrayed whom?

Sirius shook himself from these thoughts and instead focused all of his attention on where they were going. Regulus had informed him what he’d found in the vast Black library on Horcruxes. When Sirius had demanded how he’d known of the location Regulus had shocked him by replying he’d volunteered for every mission in which Voldemort required guards, hoping he’d eventually visit the site of a Horcrux. Regulus had not been disappointed; when Voldemort had instructed Regulus and a few other young, inexperienced Death Eaters to inconspicuously keep watch over the area and make sure he wasn’t followed, Regulus knew he’d found the information he was looking for.

“So being at the bottom of the hierarchy does have it’s advantages,” Sirius had replied dryly. “You make such an excellent underling.”

Regulus had glared at him. “He didn’t suspect that I knew the purpose of his visit,” Regulus said, a hint of pride behind his words. “He underestimated me—he forgets that I am a Black.”

But this entire mission was much more bizarre than Sirius could have imagined. A faint green glow emanated from the center of the black lake, and all around them was darkness. He suppressed a shudder—he had a fairly good idea of what was in the lake, having had prior experience fighting Voldemort’s forces.

“Here,” Regulus said, stopping suddenly. “I can feel his magic—ah.” His hand reached out and closed upon something, and within a few moments a rowboat appeared at the lake’s shore.

He and Regulus didn’t speak as the rowboat crossed the black water, which Sirius was now able to confirm was filled with Inferi.

Once they reached the rock island in the center of the lake, Regulus and Sirius cautiously approached the basin.

“Do you know what this is?” Sirius asked, looking away from the eerie green liquid to watch his brother.

Regulus seemed to hesitate. “Not really,” he said slowly, glancing at Sirius before looking down into the contents of the basin once again. “But it’ll be a sacrifice, like the door.”

“I suppose banishing it’s no good.”

Regulus shook his head. “No. I—I have a feeling we’ll have to drink this.”

Sirius stared at him. “Which Dark Arts books have you been reading, exactly?”

“The ones in Father’s private study,” Regulus said. “Let’s crack on then, shall we? I’ll drink this—I’m sure it’s the only way. You can’t let me stop once I’ve started, all right? The Horcrux will be at the bottom of this. I can feel the Dark Lord’s magic—it’s strongest here.”

“I’m still having a hard time believing Voldemort has a soul,” Sirius said, conjuring a goblet in midair and handing it to his brother. “Do you want me to drink this? Do you think it’s lethal?”

“No,” Regulus answered. Sirius sincerely hoped he was answering his last question, though they both knew at this point it didn’t really matter—they had to retrieve the Horcrux, even if it cost them both their lives. Sirius had prepared for this—he’d written James, Remus, and Peter letters of good-bye and spelled them to self-deliver should he die. It was morbid, and he hadn’t known what to say, and as he stood watching his brother take the first gulp of green potion he regretted writing them at all.

Sirius carefully studied his brother for any reactions; Regulus put down the goblet, instead taking deep swallows of air. “No more…” he murmured, as though in a trance.

“Regulus!” shouted Sirius, reaching out to shake his brother’s shoulder. “Snap out of it. Regulus!”

Regulus’s gaze seemed to focus, and his shaking hand again moved toward the basin. Hating himself for doing it, Sirius helped him refill the goblet and brought it to his lips.

The next few minutes were the worst of Sirius’s life. He would never forget how his brother looked, begging him for his life, begging Sirius to stop making him drink. Sirius had to cast rennervate on him twice, and by the time he had drunk the last cupful Regulus’s skin was cold and his breathing shallow.

“Water,” he’d begged Sirius, and after aguamenti failed three times Sirius had realized Voldemort’s plan.

“Damn, damn it, buggering-- fuck!” he yelled in frustration. He suppressed his panic and resisted the urge to retrieve water from the lake, knowing it would only incur the wrath of the Inferi and delay them more.

Sirius wiped the tears from his eyes and grabbed what was at the bottom of the basin—a heavy gold locket. He didn’t pause to conjure a fake to replace it; he quickly lifted his unconscious brother into the boat and urged the boat onward.

When they reached the opposite side of the lake Regulus was hardly breathing. He was like a broken doll in Sirius’s arms as Sirius pelted toward the cave, knowing he had to make it outside before he’d be able to apparate. His heart was threatening to burst from his chest before he finally reached the water. He transformed into Padfoot and, dragging his brother by his arm, swam with inhuman strength and speed outside of the fissure and into the sea.

He transformed back into human form in the middle of the ocean; grabbing his brother around the waist, he dragged them both above water, choking on salt water as he raised his wand. Lightning flashed above him as he apparated to St. Mungo’s, his brother cold and lifeless in his arms.


*


“He’s more than proven his loyalty,” Sirius said, standing next to James in Godric’s Hollow. “I can’t—I can’t just abandon him after that. You’re my brother, but now—now he is, too. And I’m too much of a target. Whoever’s the traitor is passing information on both of us.”

James gazed steadily at Sirius, the dark circles under his eyes enhancing his unnatural pallor. “Then Remus, d’you think?”

Sirius hesitated. He hadn’t seen Remus since before the Horcrux ordeal; Order business, he’d said when asked. James had seen him a few times since then, but not for any significant amount of time.

“If you think so,” Sirius said slowly, hating himself for second guessing his friend.

“If you have doubts, you’d best tell me now,” James said quietly, handing Sirius a glass of Ogden’s before pouring one for himself.

“What about Peter?” Sirius said abruptly. Peter had been around recently—he’s dependable, always there when they needed anything, and—the most important thing— who would ever suspect him?

“Peter,” James repeated, nodding his head. “Yeah. He’s a good choice.”

“It’s a bluff,” Sirius said. “No one will ever think to go after him for your whereabouts—he’d be safe, even.”

“Peter,” James said again, and raised his glass to seal the deal.

Sirius couldn’t help thinking the clink of their glasses sounded like a shattering spell, and that James had just toasted to Sirius’s death.

“I love you, James,” Sirius said suddenly, pulling James against him in a quick hug. Since he’d destroyed the letters that would have been sent if he’d died, he felt he should say something—the most important thing—while he still could.


*


Sirius and Regulus stood over Peter’s dead body on a street in Muggle London as thirteen horrified witnesses looked on.

Sirius fell to his knees and began to laugh, leaving Regulus alone to explain to Magical Law Enforcement that yes, he was the infamous Death Eater turned Order member, and that no, Sirius was not the Potters’ Secret Keeper—Peter Pettigrew was.


*


Sirius looked solemnly into Remus’s amber eyes. “Blue? And Quidditch?”

Remus’s lips quirked as he met his friend’s stare. “Padfoot, as long as the nursery has a bookshelf you can decorate it however you’d like.”

Sirius tore his gaze from Remus’s eyes to frown at the wall of paint samples. “Of course there’ll be a bookshelf! Are you doubting my ability to ensure that Harry is properly educated? If so, you might want to take note that I am in the process of providing him an environment in which he’ll spend his formative years. I don’t think I need to quote Muggle Psykiologents to explain how vital these early years are to forming good study habits and—and healthy relationships and—oh, bugger. I mean bother!” Sirius corrected, belatedly attempting to cover the toddler’s ears.

Harry gurgled up at him from his place in the stroller.

“Sirius,” Remus said, unfolding his arms to pat Sirius on the shoulder, “it’s all right, he’s barely two, he won’t be quoting swear words back at you until he’s at least four or five. And yes, blue sounds lovely. Would you prefer sky blue or cornflower blue? Personally I’d go with this one,” Remus said, tapping the sky blue paint sample. “It would go well with the Quidditch border, don’t you think?”

Sirius, glad to leave the decision in Remus’s capable hands, nodded. “I agree. Sky blue and Quidditch it is then. Harry’ll have the best nursery in town.”

“Considering we’ll be living in a town where the sheep outnumber the human population, I don’t think that’s saying much.”

“You would notice the sheep, wouldn’t you?” Sirius remarked lightly.

Remus arched his eyebrow at his friend. “I hope you’re not implying anything, Padfoot, or else I may be forced to go and purchase that lovely wooden dog house we saw earlier. You know—to keep the mangy mutt out of the house.”

“Oh no,” Sirius grinned, pushing Harry’s stroller toward the counter. “No undue aspersions are being cast, I assure you. Here, have a paint sample,” he said, hoisting a stack of glossy prints into Remus’s hands. “Or a hundred.”

Remus rolled the samples like one would a newspaper and thwapped Sirius on the backside, which made Harry giggle as Sirius jumped and shouted an indignant “OI!”

“Yes, that’d definitely the right one,” Remus remarked to passerby who had looked at them oddly. “He always gets like that over paint. Don’t mind him—he’s a bit of a prat, you know,” he added conspiratorially to a nearby wizard, who merely rolled his eyes before walking in the opposite direction.

“Moony, you’re scaring the customers away,” Sirius complained, his cheeks still flushed from the impromptu spanking.

“Ah, well. More paint for Harry, then.”

This pronouncement was met with another giggle as Harry waved his arms at Sirius in a plea to be picked up.

“Aw, up you go,” Sirius crooned into Harry’s ear as he lifted him from the stroller. Harry’s green eyes sparkled beatifically before he smacked the rattle against Sirius’s head.

Remus laughed so hard he nearly cried.

“It’s not that funny,” Sirius gritted out, taking the rattle away from a delighted Harry.

“Yes,” wheezed Remus, still doubled over with laughter, “Yes, I rather think it is. I don’t think you need to worry too much about a proper educational environment—it seems he learns fast enough!”

“Ha bloody ha. I mean—oh, bugger— bother!” Sirius said, exasperated.


*


“Time for bed, Harry,” Remus said, marking his place in his novel before standing up from the couch.

“M’kay,” Harry agreed, yawning hugely into Sirius’s shoulder. Sirius had just finished reading Harry’s favorite book for the second time, even though it was past 9 o’clock. Since it was Harry’s fourth birthday, and Regulus had been to visit, they allowed the extended bedtime as a special treat.

“Can we visit Uncle Regulus soon?” Harry asked, climbing off of Sirius and walking over to Remus, who picked him up to carry him upstairs.

“’Course,” said Sirius, settling more comfortably on the couch. “Remus, come back down after you’ve tucked Harry in, all right?”

“Sure,” said Remus, smiling at Sirius before turning to walk upstairs.

Sirius had just reached for Remus’s novel when he heard Harry ask, “Is Moony another word for Mommy?”

Sirius started laughing before he saw Remus’s warning glance. By the time he’d noticed, Harry’s face had fallen, and he looked dangerously close to tears.

“Oh, hell,” Sirius whispered, standing up quickly from the couch and walking over to where Remus stood with the distraught Harry in his arms. “I’m sorry, Harry, I wasn’t laughing at you, I promise. It was just an unexpected question, that’s all.”

Harry looked slightly mollified. “Really?” he asked shyly, blinking up at Sirius from Remus’s arms.

“We promise,” Remus answered, kissing Harry on his forehead. “Moony doesn’t mean mommy. It’s a special nickname for me. It’s like when I call Sirius ‘Padfoot’”.

“M’kay,” Harry said, before yawning again.

“Goodnight, Harry,” Sirius said, bending down to give his godson a kiss before Remus carried him upstairs.

Sirius settled back down on the couch, but replaced Remus’s novel on the table.

“You’re brooding,” said Remus a few minutes later. Sirius nearly jumped; he hadn’t heard him come back downstairs.

“I’m a bad father,” Sirius replied, avoiding Remus’s gaze. He felt the couch give next to him and knew that Remus had sat down.

“Sirius,” said Remus quietly, placing his hand on Sirius’s shoulder. “Sirius, look at me.”

Sirius turned to face his friend. Ridiculously, he felt his lower lip quiver. “Hell,” he whispered, before leaning into Remus.

“Sirius, you’re not a bad father. You’re the furthest thing from it—Harry adores you,” Remus said, wrapping his arms around his friend. “He worships you. He loves you more than anything.”

“I feel like you’re so much better at this—being a parent—than I am,” Sirius confessed, unburdening the fears that he’d harbored for so long. “You always know how to handle everything, and you say the right things—you even knew how to get him to eat his asparagus, remember?”

Remus laughed quietly, his arms still around his friend. “Those aren’t the things that really matter, Padfoot.” Remus ran his hands through Sirius’s hair, and without thinking about it Sirius nuzzled him, craving the affectionate touch. “You get all the things that matter right. You love him, and he knows that. That’s what’s important.”

“But how do you know?”

“I had a better example growing up than you did,” Remus said softly, petting Sirius’s hair like he would to comfort Padfoot. “But it’s nothing we’re not learning together.”

“Together.” Sirius breathed the word against Remus’s neck.


*


Sirius tipped his head back into the flowing water, enjoying the feel of the hot water as it sluiced down his skin. He liked his showers hot enough to fill the bathroom with sticky, humid steam that left fog on the mirror and water droplets over everything. Since he had his own bathroom, he supposed the mess didn’t matter.

Reaching for the shampoo, Sirius hummed the Whitney Houston song he’d heard on the Muggle radio recently (Remus would crack a rib laughing at him if he knew of his secret obsession with Whitney), absorbed in his thoughts about his brother’s wedding. Regulus’s engagement hadn’t been a long one; in fact, Sirius had been very surprised when Regulus announced he was getting married. At first it had awakened painful memories of James and Lily’s wedding, and his guilt had been like a wound reopened, worse and more severe upon the second scarring.

Not for the first time, Sirius thanked whatever gods of mercy there were for Remus Lupin.

Not that he should be thinking about Remus Lupin while in the shower, Sirius reminded himself sternly. In the past few months Sirius had finally admitted to himself that he harbored not entirely platonic feelings for his best friend, who currently shared a house and raised Harry with him. Sirius was not a fool; he knew Remus deserved much better than him, and probably didn’t fancy blokes anyway.

Probably.

He had to grin when he thought about what Regulus would say if he knew his older brother fancied Remus. While Regulus’s pureblood prejudices were by no means gone—Sirius had threatened to deck him if he even vaguely alluded to Remus being a half-blood or werewolf—Regulus had slowly become his brother both in blood and spirit.

Regulus had confided in Sirius, weeks after the aftermath of James and Lily’s death, that he worried the guilt-wracked Sirius wouldn’t want anything to do with him ever again.

“I thought you would always resent me, that I—that I hadn’t died that night, instead of James.”

“I didn’t want to lose either one of you,” Sirius had whispered, then pulled his brother into a tight embrace.

While Sirius couldn’t say any of those things in his best man speech, he knew Regulus understood. Though Sirius had lost a brother, he’d gained one, too.


*


Standing on the fringes of the wedding reception, Sirius looked every inch the haughty bachelor Witch Weekly rapturously described in the celebrity profile column.

“Why Sirius,” said Andromeda, seizing his drink and holding it hostage on a nearby table, “I won’t have a Mr. Darcy in attendance. Come on—dance with me!”

“Who?” Sirius asked, trying to break Andromeda’s grip on his arm. “Are you trying to rip off my clothes? Is that what this is? Release my sleeve—it’s done nothing to offend you—its removal would only embarrass your husband if he saw what he had to compete with.”

Andromeda laughed at him. “Ted’s busy watching Nymphadora watch Harry—he won’t notice you dancing with me, whether you’re clothed or not—but really, your dress robes are lovely, you should keep them on.”

Sirius, sighing dramatically, allowed his cousin to lead him on the dance floor.

He and Andromeda started to dance, and after several minutes Sirius realized none of the songs finished playing; they skipped from one fast-paced song to another, with no apparent order.

“Why’s the music playing like that?” Sirius shouted, trying to be heard over the crowd of very enthusiastic (and very intoxicated) dancers.

“You don’t know?” Andromeda shouted back, her dark eyes twinkling mischievously. “Here,” she said, bringing out her wand and murmuring a spell Sirius couldn’t make out above the sound of the dance music.

Suddenly a ball the size of a quaffle, covered in gaudy gold sequins, appeared above Sirius, who had frozen as he found himself blinded by the spotlight the terrifying orb had directed at him.

“What the--?!?” Sirius started to ask, but stopped mid-sentence as the music abruptly changed.

There’s a boy I know, he’s the one I dream of

Looks into my eyes, takes me to the clouds above

Oooh I lose control, can’t seem to get enough,

When I wake from dreaming, tell me is it really love—

Temporarily frozen to the spot, Sirius’s cheeks burned as the conspicuously Muggle Whitney Houston song filled the dance floor. Realizing the trick of the device—to play whatever song the victim likes best, or is feeling most, Sirius wasn’t sure—he shouldered past Andromeda and made to flee the dance floor.

Unfortunately, the golden disco ball of doom had other plans.

How will I know if he’s thinking of me?

Falling in love is all bittersweet,

This love is strong, why do I feel so weak?

Now on the verge of panic, Sirius vowed he would never listen to another Whitney Houston song again. Heartened by his thoughts of creative ways to destroy the Muggle radio, Sirius zig-zagged through the crowd of dancers, the golden disco ball keeping pace. Should I blast the damn thing out the air? Sirius thought desperately, just before nearly toppling over a wizard with an absurdly long cape.

Oh wake me, I’m shaking, wish I had you near me now

Said there’s no mistaking, what I feel is really love—

And just as suddenly as the song had started, the disco ball ended its torture and zoomed off to find another victim. Still not recovered from his embarrassment, Sirius looked around him to see if anyone had noticed; hopefully everyone was too drunk to have thought too deeply about why Sirius Black, the conspicuously eligible bachelor, felt the song most identifying to him was about a potentially unrequited love with a man.

The bottom dropped out of his stomach when Sirius realized at least one person had noticed—Remus, who was standing at the edge of the dance floor, where Sirius had fled thinking it would be the best means of escape.

Bugger, Sirius cursed, wondering how he could play this off. Remus was positively smirking at him.

Then it hit him.

Remus was smirking at him.

“You—“ Sirius started, grey eyes round in shock, “you planned that—you knew—”

“It’s your own fault for being so bloody obvious about it,” Remus replied, stepping closer to Sirius so they stood only inches apart. “The walls aren’t that thick. You expect me not to notice your daily renditions of “All the Man I Need” for months on end?”

“But—" Sirius babbled, not sure how he wanted the sentence to end, but knowing he had to say something to defend his dignity, “that was just singing, everyone sings in the shower, y’know, acoustics are better and all—"

And then Remus bent down and kissed him, and his world went blissfully silent—except a small part of him that answered, this is how you know.


*

end