Prologue rewrite is done!!
An Archive of Our Own, a project of the
Organization for Transformative Works
The story of two brothers and a best friend.
Sirius doesn’t look at James. He doesn’t say anything either. It’s hard to look at the husk James has become. He’s still James, sure, but…it’s almost as if he’s less than he was before. It’s been like this for about a month. He has these moments where he forgets certain things, things about Regulus, things they used to do, moments with the Marauders. Sometimes his idea of time is wonky and he mixes things up.
Sirius watches his hands, watches as they twirl the fork in his fingers and poke around his food. His eyes trail up to the face of his best friend, the face that is both sad and empty. He watches the mouth open and form words as no sound comes out. He watches James’ eyes as they flit back and forth and flutter.
James looks up at Sirius, who looks away. Sirius listens as James begins his routine. “Padfoot?”
James furrows his eyebrows and blinks, confused. “What do you mean ‘gone’? He was just here.”
Sirius purses his lips and looks down at the empty spot on the Slytherin table. It was never supposed to be empty while Sirius was here. He watches the other Slytherins eat their lunch, watches as they go about their day. He watches how they leave his space empty but ignore his lack of presence.
Sirius hates it. He hates his mother. He hates his father. He hates his uncle, Cygnus. He hates his cousin, Bellatrix. He hates everyone who was involved in making his little brother a traitor. He hates everyone who helped hurt James. He hates everyone who made his little brother a monster. He hates himself for allowing this to happen, for not dragging Regulus out of that damn house when he had the chance. Sirius Black hates himself, most of all.
Yet, no matter the horrors he hears of, no matter what he knows is going on, no matter the letters that make their way to him from Narcissa, he still cannot find it in himself to hate Regulus. He cannot find it in himself to hate the little boy who used to wake him up in the middle of the night because he had a nightmare. He cannot find it in himself to hate the little boy who would cry whenever he tripped and got the skin torn off his knee, cannot hate the little boy who used to find loopholes to lessen Kreacher’s punishments, cannot hate the little boy who used to steal his broom so he could steal rogue kittens, cannot hate the little boy who would draw him pictures for his birthday. Sirius knows Regulus isn’t that little boy anymore, he knows there’s a separation, he knows that Regulus is capable of reasonable thought and decision-making, he knows that.
He still only sees the little boy with freckles and messy hair, clinging onto him begging him not to leave for Hogwarts, to stay back another year so they can be together always. He can’t let those memories be tarnished by what his family has done.
Even when he looks at how heartbroken and empty James is, even when he sees Pandora walking the halls alone, even when he knows the meaning behind the empty seat, why he didn’t come back from Easter break, why he withdrew from school, he still cannot find it in himself to hate Regulus.
Sirius thinks that, even if he watched his brother torture someone, he could never hate his brother. No matter what happened, no matter how much he disapproved of his brother’s actions, no matter how different their views, Sirius would always be waiting for him, ready to hold him and tell him that everything would be okay.
Though short-lived, recent events have proven that he could never hate Regulus. He watched his best friend fall in love. He watched his brother fall in love. He watched his brother smile and laugh: something he hadn’t seen in over a year. He saw his brother run away and hide over letters he received from Grimmauld. He saw his brother’s fake smile that he used to convince adults that he was a perfect angel who did no wrong. He watched him trip and stumble over his words and blush whenever James got too close for comfort. He watched as Regulus hid behind carefully veiled lies in an attempt to hide his feelings, watched as he bent over backwards to get James the perfect Christmas gift. He watched as his brother became more worried, as dark circles formed under his eyelids, and as Easter grew nearer. He watched as Regulus started to distance himself from everyone.
He wasn’t there when Regulus obliviated James the morning of Easter break but he remembers the sadness in Regulus’ eyes whenever he looked James’ way.
Sirius is unaware that James is speaking, is unaware of the tears that have fallen down his own face, is unaware that Remus has reached over to stop him from scratching his wrist. He can’t look at any of them, he can’t explain to James that Regulus is gone and he couldn’t do anything to stop it, can’t explain that Regulus obliviated James’ memories and it didn’t work properly. He can’t bear to watch the heartbreak and betrayal when James is told that the memories are real, the relationship was real, Regulus did love him but that Regulus left, that Regulus won’t come back, that they may never see Regulus again.
He doesn’t notice that the Great Hall has gone mostly silent, hasn’t noticed the many pairs of eyes on him, hasn’t noticed that sobs have racked through his body, hasn’t noticed that Remus is holding him, hasn’t noticed that Peter is rubbing his back in soothing motions. He can’t hear anything but static, can’t feel anything but despair, can’t think of anything except Regulus. He wants to do nothing but storm into Grimmauld and rip the entire Black family to shreds for what they’ve done to his brother, his little brother.
Suddenly, his world comes crumbling down as one thought enters his mind. Regulus would never do that for Sirius. Regulus would stand by and watch, not interfering, never interfering.
Muffled cries course through him, that one thought repeating in his head over and over again. Regulus would never do that, Regulus would never, Regulus would never.
“Sirius. Sirius. Sirius.” The words finally start to register in his mind, his breathing slowing as Remus pets his hair and Peter rubs his back. “Sirius. We are in the Great Hall at Hogwarts, eating lunch. The date is Friday, May 19th, 1978. I’m right in front of you, Peter is behind you, and James is across from us. You are safe, Sirius.”
His mouth went dry as he opened and closed it, trying to force the words out. In the end, he only managed one when he made eye contact with Remus. “Regulus.”
The effects of that singular word was immediate. Remus’ grip on his hair became firmer and Peter’s hand stuttered to a stop. Suddenly the three of them were up, James following behind as they rushed out of the hall and to McGonagall’s office.
McGonagall. Right. Minnie had told Sirius that he was welcome to trap himself in her classroom, should anything arise.
It didn’t take long for the woman herself to storm into the room, eyebrows furrowed in worry, a stark contrast to her fierce look. She took one look at the boys and seemed to understand the situation immediately. She pulled Sirius away from Remus and into her own arms.
To anyone else, it was out of character. But to these boys, this was the real Minnie. And, Godric help her, she would protect every single one of these boys with her life. She had watched these boys grow into the people they are now. She watched as James looked at three shy, lonely boys and decided they were going to be his friends. She watched as he became the glue that stuck them all together. She watched Peter as he went from awkward to more sure of his position within the group, the seemingly shy prankster. She quickly understood that whenever he wasn’t with the others, he was being the distraction. She watched as Remus went from someone afraid of his own shadow to causing a ruckus in the name of rules. She watched as he slowly became more confident. She watched as he grew into his role in the Marauders, the watchful eye. She watched as Sirius, who was sad, closed off, and distant, became cheerful, rowdy, and outgoing. She watched as James grabbed Sirius by the hand, that very first day, and showed him what it felt like to be loved by another. She watched as Sirius and James lit up whenever the other entered the room, watched as they became inseparable.
But she also watched them fall apart. She was there, in the infirmary, every morning after a full moon. She was there when Peter’s mom died. She was there when James suffered a concussion and a broken arm after falling off his broom during a Quidditch match. And she was there when Sirius was rejected by his family, over and over again. She listened to his rants about never being good enough, about losing the only family member he loved, and she held him when he broke down crying after leaving that cursed house.
These were her boys. They were the closest any student had ever gotten to her, the closest she had ever come to having children. She loved these boys as if they were her own flesh and blood. That was evident from the way she held Sirius as he seemingly shattered in her arms.
With soothing touches, she said a silent prayer, ‘Please let these boys live the lives they deserve.’
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