Safehouse

A fire burned low in the grate, kept going more for the sake of something to do rather than the need for warmth in the little cottage. No longer even pretending to read, Sirius stretched his legs into a new position that involved kicking end cushions off the couch, and quite ignored the glance of irritation from Remus who would inevitably be the one to put them back.

"What are you doing, Moony?" He asked in that bored voice that he now knew got under Remus's skin, that always had gotten under his skin for all that he'd smiled his way through it for seven years in Hogwarts and three beyond.

"Sirius, don't you think we're a little old for school nicknames?" Remus spoke in that absent tone that Sirius once called the "professor voice" but it struck to the core like the most bitter sarcasm.

He wouldn't have said that just to get under Sirius's skin--would he? "Don't see you complaining to Jamie."

"James has other things on his mind, Sirius. Like a newborn?" The mild tone continued, but a faint bitter bite crept into the last words: "or have you forgotten your godson already?"

"Merlin, Moony!" Sirius threw the last pillow across the room, breaking something, and he didn't care what. "What is wrong with you? Are you jealous Prongs made me Harry's godfather and not you? You know he only did it because we've been-"

"Friends since forever, yes. I remember his eloquent explanation." Remus closed the book, calmly folding his hands over the cover. Moony's hands had always been still when he -- didn't care.

Suddenly, dinner lay as comfortably as rocks in Sirius's stomach, and he shoved off the couch, muttering a vague "forget it," and stuffing his hands into his pockets. Dammit, it wasn't supposed to have happened like this. Friends don't change just because the shagging stops--do they?

Behind him, Remus had resumed his book, and Sirius felt his spine curve heavily under the weight of realizing that friends do indeed. Or maybe Remus had never felt as close as James and he'd just been too busy to notice.

Half way to the bedroom, Sirius changed his mind, turned, and grabbed his heavy winter cloak from its peg, shrugging it on. "I'm going out," he said, not expecting an answer, and wrenched the door open, only to almost run into two men on the stoop, one shivering, his face hidden, the other--"Snivellus."

A spidery hand planted itself on Sirius's chest, and Snape shoved him backwards into the room, pulling his companion in after him. "Not with the door open. Weren't you reputed to be intelligent in school?"

Still staring at the entirely unexpected and improbable sight of Severus Snape locking his door from the inside while muttering about the Black family's general lack of useful brains, Sirius found his voice. "I'm not the one who joined him. Don't talk to me about intelligence."

"Shut up, and listen," Snape hissed, whirling on him once the door was locked and shoving that greasy nose in his face, teeth bared. "I haven't got much time."

"Excellent, so you can just turn around and take your mate here back out into the cold while I fantasize about that night in fifth year when-"

"Belt it, Sirius Black, before I cast quietus. He changed sides and you know it." Remus shoved past and stood before Snape, gathering all the heated gaze the dark eyes could muster with his own hooded amber. "Let's hear it."

Whatever "it" was, Sirius never found out as Snape's companion lifted his head, and looked into Sirius's face with eyes as blue as his own. "What the fuck is he doing here?" Sirius levelled a finger at Regulus's chest, knowing from feeling alone that his own face was as bloodlessly pale as the face before him.

"He's here for his protection, Black," Snape answered shortly, handing a scroll with Dumbledore's seal to Sirius, speaking over it as he read. "And he's to remain here, in your presence, until further word from Albus."

A roaring filled Sirius's ears as he crumpled the letter, its request, phrased so very politely yet leaving no room whatsoever for escape, and through it, he heard nothing but Regulus's quiet words, echoing Dumbledore. "I've left the Dark Lord, Sirius."

And suddenly, he didn't want to hear any more, turning and marching towards the bedroom. He'd almost made it too until hard fingers caught his arm and spun him around, and Regulus was unceremoniously shoved against his chest. Snape's eyes glittered in the half light of the dying fire. "He remains in your presence."

"He's a little old for hand-holding, Snivellus."

A hard palm against Sirius's chest smacked him into the wall, and this time, Snape was close enough for Sirius to feel hot breath against his lips. "You're a Gryffindor, Black. Now act like one." Snape turned, facing Remus and drawing himself to his full height. "They're not to be further than arm's length from each other. So long as they remain close, any tracking spells will report one Black scion, not two."

Sirius was still glaring back mutinously. "Why should I care if someone manages to track this little tick?"

Snape's lips curved unpleasantly. "Well, if you enjoy a visit from the Dark Lord, by all means, disregard entirely." He nodded once to Remus, and let himself back out into the November snow.

"Fuck!" Sirius exploded, pushing away from the wall and sliding his hands through his hair, watching in disbelief as Remus shrugged and returned to his book. "What do you think you're doing?"

"Reading my book," Remus said. "This one's all yours," he paused, meeting Sirius's eyes solidly, "Padfoot. It's time you learned some responsibility to go with that Auror job you've got."

A growl of sheer impotent anger rose in Sirius's throat, and he fisted his hands in the back of Regulus's robes, all but throwing him through the door into his bedroom, and slamming it shut behind them.

"Look, Sirius-"

"Don't talk to me." Sirius rounded on Regulus, sparing only half a moment's thought to wonder that he'd thrown Regulus hard enough for him to land on the floor.

As Sirius stalked past, Regulus scrambled to his feet, chasing after, still mindful of the heart-slamming terror he'd felt the entire journey from Snape's home to this shack in the middle of nowhere. Snape, at least, hadn't minced words, and always had a knack for particularly vivid description.

Regulus's stomach roiled, and he caught Sirius's arm, hauling until the taller brother turned to face him. "Five minutes. Five minutes, just listen to me, Sirius. You can throw me out in the snow if you want after." His voice shook, and a tiny part of him hoped desperately that the werewolf in the main room wouldn't let that happen.

"Five minutes," Sirius said, and shook off Regulus's hand where it'd come to rest on his arm.

"That's all I need." Regulus let his breath out, folding his arms around him to hide the trembling in his hands. "Look, I'm new to this going-against-the-power thing-" He snatched at Sirius's cloak when the other let out a disgusted snort and turned to go again. "Sirius! You promised me five minutes-"

"Three now."

This time, Regulus took a deep breath, and blurted it out before he could stop. "Peter Pettigrew is working for the Dark Lord."

All colour drained from Sirius's face. "You're lying."

"I'm not lying! He comes in the middle of the night when nobody will see him and-!" Regulus's words died abruptly as Sirius's hand shot out to grasp his throat, pinning him to the bedpost with squeezing fingers.

"You-are-lying you jealous little sycophantic leech." With every word, Sirius's fingers twitched tighter.

Stars danced between the brothers, and harmonies rang in Regulus's ears as the heat of his brother's fingers closed his windpipe for the first time in--You little fuckwit! What are you doing letting it sort you into Slytherin?!--years. He felt the tears prick behind his eyes, and looked away quickly, letting his body fall limp. He wanted it to stop before Sirius had to see him cry--again. When the hand let go, so did Regulus's knees, and he remained where he fell, curled over a throat that burned with the air he sucked greedily into his lungs. "Sev-Severus said you know there's a spy," he got out, palms pressed tight against the floor. "It's Pettigrew."

Regulus yelped hoarsely as he was jerked to his feet and dragged, panting past the startled werewolf to drop to his knees next to Sirius at the hearthstone. "Headmaster Dumbledore's office," Sirius said, throwing the powder into the fire and sticking his head in after it, voice muffling beneath the flames.

Despite the warmth of the fireplace, Regulus folded his hands into his robes and shivered, hugging himself and staring blankly at Sirius, his mind whirling with the snow outside, and the screams of that one-last-family.

Kill him!

He's only a child--we could take him and-

Avada Kedavra!

...our Lord will hear of this, Black.

He'd been left standing alone in the snow then too. Anything Voldemort heard of was--never good. He looked down at his hands which had found their way to each other and were now twisting together, much like the twisting feeling in his stomach.

"Here."

Regulus's fingers were pried apart, and Lupin pressed a mug of tea into his hands. "Should be cool enough to drink. You'd best finish before he's done talking to Albus."

Obediently, Regulus drank, wishing the warmth could do more than loosen the knot in his belly, but when he handed it back to Lupin, he wasn't quite shivering as violently. "Thank you." Werewolf's tea or not, a lifetime of social politeness had its requirements. The half smile Regulus received in return proved as warming as the tea, and he found himself smiling uncertainly back.

When Sirius pulled his head from the fire, however, the smile vanished entirely, and the ice returned with a vengeance.

But there was no shouting. No violence. No sudden attacks at all--there was barely movement. Sirius sagged against the mantelpiece, looking at nothing. "The Aurors are looking for Peter," he said slowly, watching nothing as Lupin watched him and Regulus watched Lupin. The werewolf's expression didn't change at all.

"What's he done?"

Sirius hesitated, his spine stiffening, and Regulus caught his breath with realization. You don't trust him. And he knows it. If they were back in school, if he weren't so tired and still sick with adrenaline, he might have been tempted to comment--Weren't Slytherins supposed to be the suspicious ones?

"Regulus claims to have seen him in the company of Voldemort," Sirius said, ignoring the werewolf's hiss of surprise, looking ill. "It's just a questioning," he said quietly, and for a brief moment, Regulus wondered who Sirius was trying to convince.

When Sirius put a hesitant heavy arm around Regulus's shoulders, he startled, eyes flickering up to his brother's face, but followed him without comment back to the bedroom and watched Sirius slump onto the bed, head in his hands. "...Sirius?" Timidly, Regulus rested a hand on his brother's knee, folding once again to the floor beside the bed, although this time, he noticed that the rug beneath his knees was soft and deceptively thin for its luxury. He wanted to ask--wanted to know what the Headmaster had said, and yet--I have no right to ask you anything if you let me stay here. I know, but- "I'm tired of hurting too," he said finally, quietly.

Sirius's lips twisted, the way they did when he was about to say something especially unpleasant, and Regulus flinched instinctively. "I'm just tired," he said, and briefly laid a hand over Regulus's.

"Do you believe me?" Regulus didn't recognize his own voice, so quiet and hesitant, and when Sirius replied, he realized that he hadn't been expecting one.

Certainly not bitter laughter. "I don't believe anything right now." Sirius spoke the words as if they hurt, a hand pressed hard against his chest, and Regulus knew, in just that brief moment, the differences between them that had divided them into Gryffindor and Slytherin. Sirius wanted the world to be good and brave and loyal. And the shattering of that illusion was painful--though not, he suspected, as painful as the loss of the certainty with which Sirius had always lived his life. Regulus reached up, pulling Sirius's hand away in his own, and squeezed gently. Slytherins expected the worst. And these days, were seldom disappointed.

Hesitantly, Regulus leaned up, as he had the night before Sirius left on the Hogwarts express for the very first time, and pressed his lips to his brother's cheek. Where before, it had been smooth, now it was rough, and left the skin of his lips tingling even when he pulled away, retreating to his knees and the hand he held in his own, silent.

"So what happened?" Sirius asked into the silence at last. "Sudden attack of bravery?"

Regulus shook his head, eyes still trained downwards to their joined fingers, not out of shame for the admission, but in fascination that their hands, of all things, still felt the same to him. "The opposite. Fear."

Sirius snorted, perhaps out of reflex, perhaps out of disgust, but not enough of either to wrest his hand from Regulus. "Aurors got too close?"

"No." Regulus slid his fingers around the reassuring size of Sirius's hand. That was what remained the same, he realized. His hands would never grow as large as his brother's, nor would he. Even in a towering rage, Sirius felt--safe. "Not the Aurors," he said.

"They're going to question you about everything under-"

Regulus shook his head quickly, and looked up at Sirius. "I'm not afraid of the Aurors," he said, and was glad that he wasn't above lying, because he was trembling as he spoke.

"I'm an Auror."

"I know."

"You should be afraid of us."

Regulus chewed on the corner of his lip, giving in at last and leaning into Sirius's warmth, gratified when he wasn't pushed away even if Sirius didn't wrap arms around him as he had when they were little. "I'm more afraid of Him."

At last, Sirius's arms came around his shoulders, not quite pulling him closer, but warming with their weight. "Yeah, me too," he said at last. Regulus buried his face in his brother's shoulder, muffling a quiet, inarticulate sound. He almost didn't hear Sirius speak. "But I'm still not going to let him have you."

*

Back in his home, Snape's hands shook as he put the time turner away, casting a Disillusionment charm on it and locking the cabinet with both spells and a key.

When the door knocker sounded, Snape startled, heart pounding in his chest as he schooled his features and went to let Walden Macnair in for the second time. This time, however, there would be no fugitive for him to drag back to their Lord.