Once Again Pure

Once Again Pure

Regulus emerged from the fireplace and got up, irritated. 'I can't wait to learn to Apparate and finally be rid of this dirty Floo Network,' he whined as he took the brush that rested on the mantelpiece and swept the soot from his robes. He checked his appearance in the mirror over the fireplace, smoothing his hair back in place with a satisfied smile. He wasn't as good-looking as Sirius, but he pulled his fair share of feminine attention - and he liked it. The mirror liked what it was seeing, too, and voiced its approbation to the back of the already retreating teenage boy.

Regulus went in search of his parents. He'd stayed at the Lestranges' house longer than initially planned and he wanted to let them know he was back. A smile tugged at his lips as he remembered Rabastan's envy at the engraved silver dagger he'd received for Christmas. Even his friend's parents had been impressed when it had been brought up during dinner, he remembered smugly as he walked towards the library, the most likely room to find Mother and Father at this time of day.

The quiet was a bit eerie - nothing was ever peaceful when Sirius was home. His brother most certainly held the world record for the least amount of time to get one's mother to see red. Was it possible that he'd avoided trouble for once? Just his luck; Sirius would finally manage to dodge any shouting match with Mother on the one day Regulus was out.

Muffled voices reached his ears as he neared the library. He recognised his father's tenor, then frowned as he noticed the tension in Mr. Black's tone. He couldn't distinguish words yet. His mother's voice rose as he got closer to the door.

"- he died. He's always been a no-good scoundrel, a shame to the family."

Regulus couldn't help the shiver that ran down his spine as he wondered to whom his mother referred. Her rightful pride in the Black heritage was exacting and he knew only too well how few met her standards - hadn't he dedicated himself to this life-long task? And still his goal always seemed out of reach. He knocked on the library's door, effectively interrupting her tirade, and walked in.

His father stood by the fireplace, his back turned to him. The flames haloed his frame in a play of light and shadow. Regulus registered his taut posture, the slight shaking of the wine goblet in one hand, the parchment in the other. His mother faced him. Thin lips pursed, eyes shining, her features testifying her distaste for the situation.

"Good evening Mother, Father," he began with a nod to each. "I just wanted to report that I'm back. I'm sorry that I'm later than planned, but the Lestranges -"

"It's all right, son," interrupted Mrs. Black, already turning towards her husband. Regulus knew he was dismissed.

"Thank you. Good night, then. I'll go join Sirius. I guess he is upstairs?"

His father clenched his fist, crumpling the parchment he was holding. In the quiet of the library, his sharp intake of breath carried to Regulus, whose hand froze on the doorknob. He looked up to his mother's flushed face. What - ?

"You do not have a brother anymore, Regulus."

His mother's voice cut through him. 'He's dead. He was a no-good scoundrel, a shame to the family... He's dead. He's dead. He's dead.' The snippet of conversation he'd heard came back to him, repeating itself in an endless loop as its meaning became clear. Cold washed over him. His stomach dropped. His throat constricted. His knees weakened. How he remained standing, he did not know.

"Sirius." The name, a mere phantom of a whisper, barely passed his lips. His brother. Sirius. Their endless fights replayed under his closed eyelids. The ghost of their ever-growing animosity clenched his heart. His brother. He couldn't have lost him now, with this... this shite between them. Guilt overtook him. Sirius. Oh, Sirius.

"Dead. Sirius is dead." The whimper echoed in the silent room.

"No," Mrs. Black corrected, abruptly. Regulus opened his eyes to find his mother scowling at him. "The Muggle-loving blood traitor has run away from home. It is your uncle Alphard who has died."

Relief. Then guilt. Then guilt and relief intertwined. Sirius hasn't died. Uncle Alphard has, but Regulus didn't know him very well. Mother didn't approve of him, so he hadn't seen him in years. Sirius had, of course - if it would get Mother in a fit, Sirius would do it without a second thought. Sirius. Sirius hasn't died. Relief overbalanced guilt as he saw Sirius smile in his mind. The few seconds during which he had believed his brother dead had been the worst of his life, he decided. But Sirius hadn't died.

"Your mother and I have things to discuss, my son." Mr. Black spoke for the first time since Regulus had walked in. The still-shaking wine goblet in his father's hand belied the steeled countenance. It hit Regulus suddenly - he was the only son now. The only heir. The only one to uphold the family's lineage. He'd been the only one doing it since Sirius had been Sorted into Gryffindor, but it was different now. He was the only one now.

Regulus bowed his head. "I'll leave you to it then, Father. Mother."

He closed the door to the library behind him and blindly looked around. He numbly started walking, his feet following their own course. It was only when he stopped in front of a door left ajar that he realised where they had led him. He pushed the door open and slowly moved forward, his gaze fixed on the far end of the room where a tapestry hung the length of the wall. Once he reached it, he stretched his arm out and let his fingers caressed the embroidered pattern, gently following the golden threads connecting names. He bent, his fingertips brushing lightly towards the bottom of the tree.

"The Noble and Most Ancient House of Black," he murmured. "Oh, Sirius, what have you done?"

His hand stilled. Where Sirius's name had appeared was now a small round burnt hole. His arm dropped at his side. Sirius was truly gone, removed, deleted.

"Once again pure, Sirius. Toujours Pur."