Chapter Text
Sirius thinks he hates summer.
Despite how much he loves the sun, basking in it’s overflowing warmth even though his skin can’t really tolerate it. But that’s fine, that’s okay because there is so much laughter in the summer compared to the other seasons; beach trips, road trips, Effie’s basil lemonade, bird watching with Monty. But summer just never seems to favor him back.
And this is the second summer to be complete, utter shit.
Sirius hears them, their voices, Remus’, Regulus’ but he just can’t understand any of it. His thoughts are chaotic, jumbled, and there is an aching crest that tears at his soul so savagely he can barely breathe. Sirius sits on the edge of Remus’ bed, motorcycle keys dangling precariously on his index finger. He doesn’t know what he’s doing, sitting here, in this room, while Remus and Regulus remain trapped on the other end.
It was the end of his first week with Roderick Crowe and the Brigade, second division Hit Wizards. How excited he was to leave this morning just for work, even made Remus breakfast knowing his boyfriend wouldn’t be stumbling out of bed until long, long after Sirius left at 5am because he had an off day and they were going to spend the entire weekend doing jack shit because the moon was next wednesday. It had felt like a normal day when he left, how Remus wrinkled his nose in his sleep with that familiar sleepy pout on his lips when Sirius kissed him goodbye, how he grabbed his wrist when he went to leave and asked for another and another.
Are you staying over tonight, Remus had asked.
If you want, Sirius had answered.
I always want you here.
Sirius doesn’t know what to do. What to say. What to feel.
Sirius sits on the edge of Remus’ bed, the one he sometimes shares with his boyfriend of almost a year and is struggling pick through what the fuck he just witnessed. There was Remus, his Moony, his boyfriend of almost a year, standing against the kitchen island. His tawny hair in disarray, fluffy with tufts and wisps of curls that spread haphazardly throughout, reading glasses skewed on his features making him seem so soft and Sirius would coo and smile and wrap him in a tight hug if it were any other day.
Then there was Regulus. His brother was here. Regulus was here, flush faced and panting, his mouth red, puffy and glistening with saliva. His usually immaculate hair was disheveled. His clothes were immaculate and pressed as they always were but Sirius could see the hickies on his neck, the ones that poked out of the collar of his shirt; fresh and prominent. They hadn’t even heard Sirius enter over their heated arguing. Regulus’ voice was sharp, laced with frustration against Remus’ soft placation. And then it happened.
A kiss. A hard, desperate kiss where Remus had cradled Regulus’ jaw so gently in his hands and Regulus melted against him and bitter, hot rage swept through Sirius’ entire body. How startled they were when they
finally
noticed him.
Sirius doesn’t know what to do. He knows what he should do. Scream. Cry. Break everything
fucking
thing in this
fucking
apartment. But he can’t. Sirius doesn’t even know how he made it to this room, barely remembers moving from where he stood in the foyer with a bag of take out balanced precariously in his other, additional bags of chocolate and rented movies and Remus’ favorite,
disgusting
cherry cobbler tangled in his fingers. None of it made sense.
He wonders how long this has been happening, in this apartment that he sometimes shares with his boyfriend of almost a year. Sirius sits there, brimming and building and he aches. He had really thought that Regulus wanted to be in his life, be together after their painful talk last November. Sirius has barely been out of Hogwarts for two months, he’s barely seen this apartment for two months and it’s all gone to shit. Is this how a burning bridge feels when the support beams finally collapse? Sirius wonders if this is what people in those trashy novels feel like.
Sirius looks down at his hands, the rings on his finger, the fresh, little scars that came from training because he had fucked up his defense. Dorcas had offered to heal them but Sirius disagreed, pain is a reminder of mistakes, of failure. Sirius looks to the tightly closed bedroom door. His heart aches. He can’t stay here, doesn’t want to hear what either of them had to say. Sirius can vaguely hear his name, a panicked sort of desperation that doesn’t quite make sense. He turns back to his hands, clenches his fist and rises to his feet.
Sirius heads to the door, flicks his hand to dismiss the heavy lock he slammed on it, and works the second key to Remus’ apartment off his key ring. Stupid to have a key, Sirius had said. I can just apparate in and out. Remus’ lips had quirked in that sweet, shy way it did and simply said, so you’ll remember you have a place to call home when you don’t want to be alone. But Remus isn’t smiling now, his face flushed in his distress but there is a finality in his gaze. Sirius shoves past him, pushing the key hard into his chest and flicks a cool gaze to Regulus, who remains stuck and seething where he stands beside the kitchen island, exactly where Sirius had left him.
“Can we talk?” Remus starts, stumbling to catch the key, and isn’t that some bullshit.
“No.” Sirius states evenly. His hands shake but he feels so, so numb. He swipes his jacket from the foyer and shrugs into it, grinding his teeth hard as if it could prevent the way his mouth trembles in despair. Sirius has his wallet, that really weird endless bag James’ brother had gotten him for Christmas currently containing all of Sirius’ shit and uniform, wand? On my wrist, Sirius thinks absently then frowns. That’s it. He didn’t want anything else, left everything Remus had given him on the floor in his bedroom.
God. This sucks.
“Sirius.” Remus grabs Sirius’ forearm and Sirius rears on him sharply, wand pressed hard into his jaw. Remus swallows, thick and audible. Sirius stares at him for a long moment, heart twisted in bitter agony and his eyes burn hot and wet. He lets go. Sirius steps away from him, wand still drawn. He doesn’t look at Regulus because it hurts to but it also hurts to look at Remus. Sirius wants to leave. He wants to leave. What is there to talk about?
“What is there to talk about, Remus?” Sirius asks. His voice sounds far, far away. “You went behind my back. I don’t care to know why.”
“Because you’re so innocent in this situation.” Regulus snaps. “You left me behind. You left Remus behind. You only ever think about yourself!”
Remus looks at Regulus then, silent, shoulders squared as his expression hardens with bitter resolve. It feels so surreal, this conversation with these two people standing before him and he doesn’t know how to stop it. The hurt that wells inside him is hot with stomach acid and grief.
“You never even noticed. So wrapped up in yourself as you always are.” Regulus laughs. It sounds deranged and terrible and wrong. “We’ve been together since you abandoned me. For being third in your entire year, you are an idiot, big brother. Remus didn’t speak to you for an entire year. Then he suddenly starts to? Such a strange coincidence seeing as I decided to acknowledge you again a short while after.”
Remus stiffens in front of him and at long last, there is regret in his face
Sirius inhales slowly and a dawning crests through him. It had felt unexpected. Every inch of him had protested, had said to be cautious. But Sirius hadn’t cared. He had Remus back. He had his brother back. His brother who had hickies on his neck, who stares at him with that haughty, dark flicker of glee. Sirius should’ve expected this. Bella always did say that Regulus was more like Cissa than she was, that he really didn’t know whose monster he housed. Sirius hadn’t understood then, like he hadn’t understood that he and Bellatrix were anomalies, searching for freedom on different sides of a spectrum.
Regulus had taken their mother, the heirship as he felt he deserved, and still, he took more, demanded more.
Sirius just hadn’t expected Remus. He should’ve known. That mean streak you have is a mile long, Lupin, Mary had laughed once.
This was a punishment.
“You never forgave me,” Sirius says, dull, empty. He can feel his heart shatter inside him but his voice doesn’t waiver, it doesn’t tremble. There’s no reason to defend himself. It’s done. He doesn’t care, barely understands how he’s still standing here and maybe he’s hoping, waiting, for Remus to tell him this is some grand prank but Remus just stares at him, stares and stares and stares.
Remus says nothing.
Sirius laughs. He can’t help it. If he doesn’t, he’ll start sobbing. Sirius groveled for months, injuries and all and the only one who would talk to him was James with his ugly pity. He knows what he did was wrong, he did a terrible, awful thing. Sirius doesn’t know why he ever thought he’d be enough for Remus Lupin, the man he begged for, the relationship he begged for, after what he did. This was a punishment. It had to have been. Sirius had no other reason to think otherwise. How he fractured his friends with Snape but somehow they had come to an accord, an understanding and wasn’t that the strangest thing being chummy with Snape while his own friends, his own family, couldn’t stand him. He should’ve known.
How long he spent, agonized over his decision to leave Grimmauld, how much he had wept over it. Their mother was going to kill him. It had taken him months to recover even with fucking magic. He had to start the term late. Would he have been satisfied then with him dead and rotting in the ground? How long have they hated him this much? This was a punishment.
It didn’t matter how hard he worked to be anything but himself, didn’t matter what strides he had made. Sirius Black just wasn’t enough.
He wanted to blame Remus but his heart ached at the suggestion.
He wanted to blame Regulus but, god, how terrible it tasted in his throat.
And Sirius deserved it.
Sirius swallows. “Does James know?”
Remus slowly shakes his head.
“Peter knows.” It's not a question.
Remus nods.
Sirius nods. “Ok. Sorry for the mess. I’m going to go.”
Regulus’ face twists into an ugly sneer. “You think that’s it? That you can just walk away? Again? I am your-”
“You're nothing to me.” Sirius interrupts, looking at Regulus, watching those gray eyes burn and burn with so much hatred. He really, really should’ve known. “You’ve made that clear. You aren’t Orion. And I won’t bow to you.”
Regulus’ nostrils flare. He tries to move but his body won’t budge from the floor. “Father is dead or has your time pretending caused your memory to weaken?”
Sirius does not tell Regulus that he was in the room when their father did pass, his father’s hand so, so tight in his until it went slack. How those silver eyes looked at him with such warmth in that moment, so weak and so, so full of bitter regret before they turned glossy and empty. Sirius’ lips twitch upward and he relishes in the shocked outrage that overtakes Regulus’ face. Papa was gone and Grimmauld was rank with his loss, Sirius was almost a ghost with his own. He felt the family magic shatter in that quiet, awful moment until it reformed like a pulsing wound. His father was a bastard but he was his father.
Sirius takes one last look at Remus, how sullen he appears and quiet. So strange. That silence. But Remus had always been quiet in his anger, hadn’t he.
“Fine.” Regulus’ voice brings Sirius back to him. “You are nothing to me. You will have nothing. You will have no one. Worthless as our mother always said and certainly not worthy to be a Black. A name you never deserved. ”
Remus’ head snaps to Regulus, appearing ashen. “What are you doing, Reg?”
“Let it be known, Sirius Orion Black. From this day forward, you are no son of the House of Black. You are nothing.”
Sirius will never know how he responded, if he responded, just felt the air sizzle and spark like an invisible thread had snapped violently inside him. His magic is searing hot under his skin. He grabs at it tightly even as it wails and screams in despair. He grinds his teeth, tastes the blood in his mouth, throat coated in hot, sickly bile. Sirius can feel his family reaching back, struggling to grab onto him, his magic, and he can feel them, their dead, his dead and how they scramble and reach and fuck, Sirius has missed them. It's like wading through thick sludge, trying to grasp them back, to tell them he’s sorry but he can’t stay, he can’t, he can’t and still they cling to him.
Sirius chokes up blackish, sticky blood and it spills down his chin. His fingers come back smeared with darkened red after he touches his face. Remus is reaching for him, so scared, frightened and Sirius stumbles away from him, crashing hard to the ground with a garbled scream. Every hair on his body rises like static, like an overwhelming swell of violent grief and agony. His entire body trembles in frantic pain.
A hand lays on his shoulder and he flinches away, clawing at the floor weakly. His skin is so warm, so, so warm and it sizzles and burns and the most pathetic noise escapes his lips. It's the worst pain he’s ever experienced, worse than when Walburga tried to rip his magic from his very atoms. Sirius can feel them leave, his family, his dead, how it feels like he’s been torn asunder and already he mourns them again. His father is the last, wedging so deep inside his soul it wails in response. Sirius clutches him, even though it hurts, even though it burns and writhes and shatters something inside him so completely. Then there is, suddenly, an ugly, terrible snarl that sounds in his very being, followed by the musical chirp of a songbird, the withering kaw of a raven.
There are so many voices in his mind right now, so scrambled and jumbled and Sirius begs them to take him from here.The floor warms beneath him, slick and bubbling and Sirius manages to lift his head, catches a glimpse of crazed, panicked hurt on Regulus’ face, how Remus’ mouth moves quickly but there are no words, no words at all. He meets that chilly gaze head on, that hatred, and wonders just how long Regulus Black has truly, truly hated him, how long he’s failed him. Failed them both.
I’m sorry, he wants to say.
Sirius melts through the floor.
The world around him roars back to life.
“Sirius! Sirius!” A voice rings out. There are hands on him, rolling him onto his side. Sirius forces his eyes open, feeling drowsy and retched. He chokes, blood spilling from his lips, and blinks at the familiar stretch of rug beneath him. His housewarming gift because James liked rugs and Hadrian liked geometrical shapes. Sirius traces the circles absently, mind a fractured, empty space. He can smell the heady aroma of James’ cologne, the twinkling sound of windchimes. Sirius doesn’t know how he got here, in this house but his relief is great.
Tears spill from his eyes. God, it was really over.
“Oh, Pads. I’m here.” James’ face is so strange right now, so wild and panicked and he gathers Sirius tight in his arms. Sirius can barely move, teeth grinding together, and when he gets his arms around James’ neck, he breaks. He can’t stop, he can’t stop. Sirius can’t hear anything at all. He spills out, he spills out miraculously and everything hurts.
Remus’ voice is in his head, saying he loves him, saying we’ll always be together, together, together. Then there is Regulus, small, a child peering up at the constellations with his head on Sirius’ shoulder asking what about that star, this one, what’s that, what’s that until their voices run together like a cacophony of white noise. God, everything was over. No brother, no family. Is this what devastation felt like? True heartbreak?
It feels like he’s screaming, he must be screaming.
James rubs his back soothingly, quiet and stoney and so unlike him that it nearly shatters him to pieces, the usual vibrant, buzzing warmth of his magic has turned scorching. He holds Sirius tight even though he’s covered in blood, tight enough that he feels it in his soul, his very being. James slips an arm under his knees, lifting him like he weighs nothing.
“C’mon. Let’s get you a shower, my sweet, baby Pads.”
James does not leave the bathroom, chattering aimlessly about his training instructor like Sirius hadn’t seen him at the Ministry today. He knows James had training this morning, saw him at the DLE and they shared a chocolate croissant that was terrible and gross but still, Sirius listens, listlessly watching the water run sickly black then red then clear. His breath hitches. It felt like leaving Grimmauld all over again. Regulus’ bitter, crestfallen expression. How funny that everything blew up in his face once again.
Sirius sinks to the tub, knees pressed tight to his chest. He whimpers. James whips the shower curtain open and kneels beside the tub. He grabs Sirius’ hand. Sirius clutches him back tightly. He doesn’t know how long they sit there.
James shoves Sirius into the softest pair of clothes once he’s dragged out the shower, drying his hair with a fuzzy towel like he does when it's Padfoot's bathtime. James kneels between his legs, hazel eyes so concerned and warm and Sirius’ mouth twists. He tells him everything, about Remus, Regulus. It would be amusing, in any other situation, seeing how red James Potter turns in righteous fury.
“What else happened?” James urges.
“Regulus disowned me.” Sirius whispers.
“You’re fucking kidding me! If either of them shows their fucking face here, I will deck them.” James snarls, seething.
“Who are we decking?” A dry voice rings out, revealing one Hadrian Potter, whose head pokes into the bathroom. “Oh, Sirius. Are you here for-” He frowns deeply.
His eyes are heavy and tired, narrowing slightly as he assesses them. Sirius almost forgot they lived together until he saw the rug. Well, it was more like James moved in and Hadrian didn’t argue, just shrugged and said he had room when their parent’s started chastising James for not even asking. Hadrian’s gaze is hard on Sirius’ face and he steps into the bathroom completely, jaw working.
Sirius hadn’t seen him this week because Crowe said he was on vacation. He looks the same but there is a new scar along his throat and chin that breaks into his bottom lip, left eyebrow split directly in the center where a small, raised set of discolored skin rests. Where James favors Monty heavily, all ivory skin and hazel, Hadrian took after Effie, golden tan, and assessing, pale green eyes. He had her narrow jaw but Monty’s dimples while James had her stunning smile.
Sirius immediately feels embarrassed. “Shit. Uhm, I thought you were on vacation?”
Hadrian’s eyes narrow dangerously. The temperature in the room drops sharply. “What the fuck happened?”
“He said Regulus disowned him.” James tells him. “But that doesn’t explain…”
“No.” Hadrian inclines his head. “What else happened, Sirius?”
Sirius swallows thickly. “Uhm. Remus broke up with me?”
“That wouldn’t change your appearance.” Hadrian comments idly. “Neither should disownment.”
James makes an agreeing noise. “His recovery isn’t normal either. Argumentatively, he shouldn’t be talking or moving. He fucking materialized through the floor. It scared the shit out of me. I spilt my cereal. Oh. I did that. Sorry. I’ll clean it up, I swear.”
Hadrian flicks a dismissive hand. “I dealt with it.”
“Wait. What do I look like?” Sirius whimpers, confused, aching and god, he hates the summer. “Oh my god, am I ugly?”
“Priorities.” Hadrian mutters.
“Oh no, Pads. You’re still so handsome. The most handsome!” James assures him, grasping his face. “Well, pretty. I don’t know. I have conflicted feelings right now but you look great.”
“Like… gay feelings?” Sirius asks dumbly.
“Quit trying to seduce me, you big cur.” James huffs, dragging Sirius to his feet. He guides him in front of the bathroom mirror. Sirius does a double take, furiously wiping the mirror and stares and stares and stares. He honestly doesn’t know whether to laugh or to cry because, to him, he looks almost, almost the same but he no longer favors Walburga at all. If anything, he could see Orion more clearly. His jaw is defined just a touch sharper, more angular, skin pale but now almost luminescent. His hair was still very much his father’s texture, wild and rampant, as it dips past his collarbones but now the strangest shade of rich, blackish silver. His eyes are deeper, still his father’s but with strokes of violet.
Whose eyes are these, he thinks.
Sirius nearly cries; he's so overwhelmed. “Fuck. I need reassurance. Am I ugly?”
“No.” Hadrian states bluntly.
James makes an offended noise, shaking his head. “Absolutely not!”
What a mess. “Fuck. Sorry. I didn’t mean to bother-”
“Psh, shut up.” James huffs. “You will stay here. Or I will mold you into these beautiful, mahogany hardwood floors myself. You will make a great addition. I will even make you the best spaghetti.”
“Don’t be an idiot.” Hadrian says at the same time. He sends James a look. “You mean, I’ll make spaghetti. You can’t fucking cook.”
James perks up. “Why learn when I have the best Haz to make food for me? Even better than Mipsy.”
Hadrian sighs deeply but he looks pleased, turning on his heel to leave. “Be silent or I will not make you garlic bread, little brother. Show Sirius his room.”
James gasps, making a zipping motion. He grins at Sirius. “We literally just finished painting it yesterday. It looks great.”
Sirius blinks. “What room?”
James blinks, innocent. “What?”
“Prongs.”
“Padfoot.”
Sirius makes a helpless noise. “What room?”
James hooks an arm around his shoulders. “Bffs always get a room. Cassie has one so why not you?”
“Does Cas not live here?” Sirius asks, perplexed, because he’s seen her here, often, without Marlene, without Hadrian.
“No. Silly.” James laughs. “Hadrian said besties get rooms. Duh. Our parents have a room here.”
Sirius whimpers. “Wait-”
“Hush or I will not share Hazza’s delicious garlic bread with you.” James chirps, directing Sirius out of the bathroom. He marches Sirius to the second floor, where there is, in fact, a freshly painted room waiting. It doesn’t resemble the one he has in Potter Manor but the walls are a rich, stormy gray with a bed tucked right into the corner how he likes it, covered in a soft, white velvet duvet. There’s even a lofted area with a spiral staircase. Sirius sends James a look, who blinks innocently at him.
“I have Alphie's flat, Jay.” Sirius reminds him, setting his bag and dirty clothes on the floor.
James raspberries. “You hate that place because it's too big, which is why you’re always here. Rent or whatever, they call it. Haz doesn’t care.”
Sirius didn’t enjoy imposing on Hadrian Potter’s life. They had a strange relationship. He was so aloof in comparison to James but would have Fleamont roaring with laughter often, would wear matching holiday sweaters with Effie even after telling her he was too old for such fanfare and didn’t seem to care that the Potters had essentially adopted a Black into their home. James was also incredibly fond of his older brother and would regale Sirius with tales and tales of his brother’s tasks. He was the reason James wanted to be an Auror. “Two Potters in the DLE but on both sides! Me, a super, cool cop. My brother, super, cool secret hitman. Oh, Pads, you have to join! A trifecta!”
But Sirius didn’t really know him well despite how much time he spent with the Potters. Hadrian was gone often for work and Sirius never really learned what Hadrian’s specialty was on the Brigade, just that he was good at it, according to James’ parents, according to their coworkers. They knew of each other but hadn’t even officially met until Sirius ran away from home and wasn’t that already a spectacle. It was embarassing, collapsing right at the edge of Potter Manor, his back a shredded mess, legs mangled and broken and bleeding and he was barely coherent. Hadrian had just appeared at the edge of the wards, still in uniform. He didn’t even ask questions, just swept Sirius into his arms, blood and all.
“If that’s ok.” Sirius says nervously. He really didn’t want to go back to his flat but he would not be a burden, especially to James’ older brother when he bothers the Potters enough. "I have to get my bike from Moo-Remus'."
“It’s fine. We’ll get your shit tomorrow.” Hadrian’s voice startles them both. “If you try paying rent, I’ll set you on fire.”
“It’s true.” James says solemnly. “I got singed, berated, and chastised. So I just buy groceries but you have to be careful because Haz can get weird about that.”
“I do no such thing.” Hadrian sniffs. “You buy shit you don’t like, don’t eat it, then pout until I make you something.”
“Oh. My bad.” James pouts.
“Don’t be an idiot. I don’t mind or care.” Hadrian dismisses easily and James blushes. “Food is done. You look like you’re about to fall over. Did you even eat today?”
Sirius blinks, realizing Hadrian is asking him. “Oh. Uhm.”
“Heaven’s help me.” Hadrian sighs.
James balks. “You didn’t? Was that croissant it? You didn’t even eat it! Sirius, we have talked about this. You need food for energy. What if you collapsed in training?”
“Sorry.” Sirius mutters, chastised.
“Be sorry after you eat!” James admonishes heatedly.
Sirius isn’t even allowed to make his own plate. It’s so much food that it makes his stomach twist in discomfort but he does eat because the weight of two, heavy Potter stares is eerie and overwhelming. A bird chooses this moment to swoop into the Potter’s dining room so strange in color that Sirius does a double take. It looks like a raven physically but its feathers are white with splotches of black breaking along its chest and entangling with the white of its tail. There’s a letter in its talons, specifically a letter including the golden seal representing Gringotts. It gently lays it beside Sirius’ plate, fluttering its wings and he slowly extends his hand to it.
The raven settles on his outstretched fingers, beady eyes unnerving and assessing and stares at him for a long moment then makes a rough kraw noise, dips its head, and takes off out the room.
Sirius blinks.
James chokes on his drink.
“What the fuck.” Hadrian says succinctly.
Sirius manages to get the letter between trembling fingers and nearly incinerates it. His mind is so frazzled and broken that it feels like a miracle he’s still coherent. It reads ‘Lord le Fay’ in neat, elegant scrawl. He’s so confused because he was sure that family lineage had long been dead. What a miserable summer. Sirius pushes the letter away, scrubbing his face roughly as he braces against the table. He feels like crying but his body is drained and empty. Sirius sniffles, lips trembling. His breath hitches. God, he really fucked it all up again.
The front door slams shut, startling him. He looks up to see one fiery, furious Marlene McKinnon storming into the dining room entryway, blond hair tied into a high ponytail. She’s still dressed in the robes for her internship. Dorcas is right behind her, smile serene and stunning.
“Oh, thank fuck, you’re here. I went by your stupid apartment. I cannot believe what I’ve heard. If I see Lupin, I will punch the shit out of him.” Marlene snarls and Sirius, understandably cowed, nods rapidly. Her face softens completely and she rushes to him, sweeping Sirius out of his seat and into a tight hug. “Oh, Siri.”
"It's fine." Sirius forces a laugh but Marlene just holds him tighter.
“Have a seat.” Hadrian says blandly. “Spaghetti?”
“You even have your own garlic bread, Cassie.” James chirps. “It’s like he knew you’d be here.”
Dorcas lifts a delicate eyebrow and sends Hadrian a sweet smile. “Playing favorites, Potter?”
Hadrian sighs deeply.
Marlene squeezes Sirius tightly. “We came as soon as I got off- le Fay? Who is Lord le Fay? Whose letter is this?”
All eyes snap to them. James drops his fork. “What did you say?”
“It’s Sirius’ letter.” Hadrian says slowly, frowning.
“Sirius is Lord le Fay?” Dorcas asks.
Sirius manages a whimper, tucking his face into Marlene’s neck.