[ sleep is generally hard to come by when you're fighting a war.
from the order's side, it's a constant paranoia, constant fear. what they're fighting isn't straightforward, it's sneaky and corrupting, it's nagging and bleeding and terror. witches and wizards live in constant fear of who will be captured next, who will be killed, who will return to their home after work to find the doors smashed in and the dark mark hovering in the sky overhead.
it's dissonance and fractured trust, it's not knowing who your friends are anymore, being terrified that they're being controlled, or turned against you. sirius hates it. he's straightforward, brutally honest, would much rather charge in wands blazing than deal with the ugly, insidious truth of it, how the roots of unrest have spread through everything like creeping ivy.
but it is what it is.
once regulus is off to bed without argument, sirius sees to the horcrux. the safe in question is on the third floor, behind a wall in the linen closet, inconspicuous, and invisible unless you know it's there. sirius taps his wand in succession over five different shelves, a specific pattern, a specific order, and a small space at the very bottom, very back of the closet opens up, the wall before it vanishing. behind it is a small, grey safe with no buttons, no dial, no face at all.
with the tip of his wand and a muttered spell, sirius draws a fine cut along his palm, just deep enough to bring blood welling up, and he presses his hand to the front of the safe. when it's pulled away, the blood lingers, shining on its smooth surface, but quickly after it's absorbed, sucked into the safe itself, disappearing without a trace.
a seam opens up around the edges, and the front of the safe creaks open. it's empty, thankfully, and sirius is quick to toss the napkin-wrapped horcrux into it, staring at it darkly for a few lingering moments before he's snapping the safe shut. it seals itself up, and with a tap of his wand to the bottom shelf, the wall reappears, seamless and perfect, and sirius straightens up.
they have no way yet to destroy the cursed thing, and its presence alone is disturbing, but tucked away in the safe, sirius feels a little lighter for it, less weighted.
so, with that done, he looks in on reg to see that he's sleeping comfortably before it's back downstairs to clean up the dishes. he paces the floors, hesitant to even be under this roof, but soon enough he slinks off to his old room. the dust has been cleared away and the fire has warmed the space, and sirius can't help the tired grin that splits his face at the sight of the gryffindor pennants and muggle posters still stuck to the wall. mother had never found a way to remove them, and it feels like a personal triumph.
it's been a long day and night, but sirius still has difficulty falling asleep. again and again he's going over the day's events, reabsorbing the fact that regulus is alive, that he's here, and safe. lingering on thoughts of voldemort, and the horcrux hidden in the linen closet. even without those thoughts, it's not easy for him to fall asleep here, to feel safe surrounded by these dusty walls and the too familiar creaks of the old settling house.
the fire is burned down to embers by the time regulus' weight on the mattress makes him stir, and sirius' eyes open slow, blinking into the dimness.
even though his brother is a man grown now, it's still such a familiar sight, and sirius feels the nostalgia of it crashing over him in waves. bleary-eyed and half-asleep, he flings out an arm to tug regulus in, holding strong and fast. ]
S'okay. [ he murmurs, his voice thick with sleep. ] You're safe.
no subject
from the order's side, it's a constant paranoia, constant fear. what they're fighting isn't straightforward, it's sneaky and corrupting, it's nagging and bleeding and terror. witches and wizards live in constant fear of who will be captured next, who will be killed, who will return to their home after work to find the doors smashed in and the dark mark hovering in the sky overhead.
it's dissonance and fractured trust, it's not knowing who your friends are anymore, being terrified that they're being controlled, or turned against you. sirius hates it. he's straightforward, brutally honest, would much rather charge in wands blazing than deal with the ugly, insidious truth of it, how the roots of unrest have spread through everything like creeping ivy.
but it is what it is.
once regulus is off to bed without argument, sirius sees to the horcrux. the safe in question is on the third floor, behind a wall in the linen closet, inconspicuous, and invisible unless you know it's there. sirius taps his wand in succession over five different shelves, a specific pattern, a specific order, and a small space at the very bottom, very back of the closet opens up, the wall before it vanishing. behind it is a small, grey safe with no buttons, no dial, no face at all.
with the tip of his wand and a muttered spell, sirius draws a fine cut along his palm, just deep enough to bring blood welling up, and he presses his hand to the front of the safe. when it's pulled away, the blood lingers, shining on its smooth surface, but quickly after it's absorbed, sucked into the safe itself, disappearing without a trace.
a seam opens up around the edges, and the front of the safe creaks open. it's empty, thankfully, and sirius is quick to toss the napkin-wrapped horcrux into it, staring at it darkly for a few lingering moments before he's snapping the safe shut. it seals itself up, and with a tap of his wand to the bottom shelf, the wall reappears, seamless and perfect, and sirius straightens up.
they have no way yet to destroy the cursed thing, and its presence alone is disturbing, but tucked away in the safe, sirius feels a little lighter for it, less weighted.
so, with that done, he looks in on reg to see that he's sleeping comfortably before it's back downstairs to clean up the dishes. he paces the floors, hesitant to even be under this roof, but soon enough he slinks off to his old room. the dust has been cleared away and the fire has warmed the space, and sirius can't help the tired grin that splits his face at the sight of the gryffindor pennants and muggle posters still stuck to the wall. mother had never found a way to remove them, and it feels like a personal triumph.
it's been a long day and night, but sirius still has difficulty falling asleep. again and again he's going over the day's events, reabsorbing the fact that regulus is alive, that he's here, and safe. lingering on thoughts of voldemort, and the horcrux hidden in the linen closet. even without those thoughts, it's not easy for him to fall asleep here, to feel safe surrounded by these dusty walls and the too familiar creaks of the old settling house.
the fire is burned down to embers by the time regulus' weight on the mattress makes him stir, and sirius' eyes open slow, blinking into the dimness.
even though his brother is a man grown now, it's still such a familiar sight, and sirius feels the nostalgia of it crashing over him in waves. bleary-eyed and half-asleep, he flings out an arm to tug regulus in, holding strong and fast. ]
S'okay. [ he murmurs, his voice thick with sleep. ] You're safe.