three_broomsticks | 3Broomsticks, a mingle meme

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3Broomsticks, a mingle meme

THREE BROOMSTICKS:
A MINGLE MEME

After a long day, you find yourself tired, achey, in desperate need of a drink, and maybe even a pillow to rest your head on. Three Broomsticks is a warm refuge from the freezing cold snow gusting outside.

"Welcome to the Three Broomsticks, luv! What can I get for you?" Madam Rosmerta is bright and cheery, heralding the bar where a number of wizards are already seated, wetting their whistles with ale or butterbeer.

INSTRUCTIONS
1. Post with your character, noting their name/canon in the subject, and any preferences.
2. Roll a number and tag out to others.
3. Profit.

TIMELINE
a) NORMAL. It's just another day in your character's life. Nothing to see here.
b) TIME HAS NO MEANING. Obligatory option to allow the different generations to interact. Is your character part of the younger crowd, and you always wanted an opportunity to thread with their parents? Maybe now, with the aid of a Time-Turner, you can make it happen!
c) MISC. Make something up. It could be an AU universe where anyone from anywhere can be dragged into the Three Broomsticks. Parents or children can be your character's classmate or colleague, instead. The dead never died. Those from other worlds can have an established life, here.

OPTIONS
01. PARTY ANIMAL. You're drunk, rowdy, and ready to have a good time. Did you receive good news? Crashing someone's get-together? Meeting up at the Three Broomsticks after work with your crew? Stopping by after watching the Quidditch World Cup? Who cares, let's shake things up (just be sure to give Rosmerta a good tip before you go.)
02. GOSSIP AND RUMORS. Drunks are always easy to coax into sharing the latest gossip in the wizarding world. The warm setting makes it even easier to get someone to open up to you, or for you to blab to someone else.
03. SCHEMING. There's a war going on, don't you know? Careful what you say during a meeting, you don't know who might be eavesdropping. Are you undercover? Trying to stay under the radar, whether it's the Ministry's, Order's, or a Voldemort-sympathizer on your tail?
04. LONER. There's no such thing as being alone here. Your character might not want the company, but company's coming anyway, pal.
05. THE DATING LIFE. Why would you think bringing your date here is a good idea? It's loud and rowdy, and you're sure to have someone crash into your intimate moment. Maybe that's a good thing, depending on who you're here with. Are you the crasher, or the crashee?
06. FIGHT, FIGHT, FIGHT. Here we go. It's inevitable for some drunk to get a little too rowdy. Are you that drunk? The one on the receiving end? Are you giving poor Rosmerta a hand by breaking up the debacle? Or you could be the one who is helping the poor soul who got clobbered. Yikes, that'll leave a shiner.
07. FRISKY. When the booze is flowing, there's always a chance for someone to get hot and bothered. Did someone catch your eye at the bar? Flirting up a storm with your date? With a little liquid courage, you too can admit your eternal feelings for that one person... even if they're a sworn enemy. Take it upstairs, you crazy kids.
08. SPIKED DRINK. Didn't your mama ever tell you to keep an eye on your drink? Now look what's happened, you drank something you weren't supposed to! Are you the poor sap who got hit with a love potion, some luck, or are you suddenly sporting some rainbow-colored hair? Go crazy with the results!
09. FIRST MEETING. Everyone's got to meet for the first time at some point. Maybe you get along asap. Or it could take you some time to warm up to each other. Are you coworkers, and this is your way of extending the olive branch after a job gone good or bad? Maybe you need something from this person.
10. WILDCARD. Choose any option above, or make up your own scenario.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

[His hands go to the locket immediately, fingers wrapping around the sharp-edged glass and metal. He never takes it off, not unless he's going to try (again) to destroy it (and fail) (again), but. It's heavy. It's heavy, and he's heavy, the food and the familiarity of home making him slow and warm. Safe.

He can't stay, he can't stay long in any one place, he can't risk being found, but.

There's a tremor in his hands when he slides them up the chain, and it almost seems to weigh itself more, the chain pressing links into the back of his neck as he lifts, drags, pulls it off and lets it fall to the table with a dull thud much louder than something of its size ought to have.]

...don't touch it. I don't want it to hurt you.

[Moving fast, sharply fast, Regulus gets a dusty rounded glass cover, the type that should have a cake beneath it, and covers the hissing, whispering thing a little more firmly than necessary.]

[ sirius watches the thing, how it eerily resists being removed, the too-heavy sound it makes when it falls against the table, and even after it's trapped beneath the bell cover sirius still stares at it, aggravated and repulsed, like it's a snake reared to strike.

he isn't worried about touching it. for better or for worse, sirius black is a bull-headed, stubborn creature, resistant to outside influence, and regulus was able to carry it safely enough - but he's got no desire to touch the thing, anyway.

he hates its presence, though, and after a tense few moments he tosses his linen napkin over the glass cover for good measure, because it feels like the damned creepy thing is watching them. ]

You shouldn't need to wear it all the time. Not while we're here.

[ rubbing at his chin, sirius lapses into thoughtful silence, and after a few moments he speaks again. ]

You should let me put it in the safe.

[ there are upsides to being the heir to a very old, very secretive, very dark family. now that their parents are gone, the full knowledge of this place has been passed on to sirius. he knows all of its secrets, every inch of grimmauld place from top to bottom. there are hidden places only he can find and access, places anyone would be hard pressed to find. it would be unwise to leave the horcrux unattended and unprotected, but so long as they're going to be in the house.. ]

[Now that it's off him, it's like breathing in the first breeze of spring, crisp and sweet. Regulus sits again, suddenly drained and a little hollow, but lighter, so much lighter. He already can't bear the thought of putting it on again, letting it weigh him down, cut into him, whisper. He can't hear it anymore.

Still staring at the cloth, he nods.]

I will. We should. Until we...

[He trails off and looks up at Sirius, uncertain suddenly. He's been off trying to kill this horror, he doesn't know what Sirius has been doing. Had avoided finding out, he thinks, because if he'd known, it would have been so much harder to stay away, to keep focused on his purpose, but that's been dashed anyway. Sirius is here, Sirius has rescued him, and now he isn't certain he can go back to keeping a distance.]

Are you...you'll help me?

[ sirius can see the difference already, like someone's lifted a weight off of regulus' shoulders, and it only reaffirms his desire to put the thing away, to hide it and protect it so he doesn't need to carry it around, influenced and affected. no one should have to deal with that.

you'll help me, regulus asks, and sirius looks mildly thunderstruck, because of course he'll help, you prat. he nearly says as much, but stops himself - because if regulus feels that he has to actually ask that, it's sirius' own fault. for not being around. for not looking out for him. for letting him fall into all of this.

so he sighs softly instead, and nods. ]

Yeah. Of course.

[ he says, quietly, then glances toward the covered glass again. the sooner he gets the thing locked away, the better. scowling, he pulls away the cloth napkin, then hesitates only briefly before lifting the lid. without wasting a beat, sirius tosses the napkin over the horcrux and snatches it up that way, not terribly keen on touching it barehanded. wrapping it tightly, sirius knots the napkin, and pushes up from the table. ]

I'll get it squared away. [ a beat. ] You should.. get some sleep, Reggie. You look a mess.

[His eyes don't leave the necklace when it appears again, and he follows the little wrapped bundle. It looks so innocuous like this, wrapped in pale cream linen as if it's something precious to be kept undamaged. But the lifted weight is so much, he's able to shoot Sirius something like his old skeptical stare.]

You don't like my new look?

['Exhausted suspicious traveler' is easy to maintain.

It's easier to make even a weak attempt at something lighthearted than tell Sirius he doesn't sleep very much.

He finishes the last few spoonfuls of stew first, then stands and lets his feet take him upstairs to his room. The fire is going, and the bed has been turned down, and Kreacher has worked hard to at least make the place look livable. He hopes, as he kicks off his boots and undoes the long white wrappings on his arms, that Sirius' room looks like this too.

It's fatigue that lets him drift in uninterrupted sleep as long as he does, but eventually the whispers creep back in around the edges, perhaps only memories of the whispers he'd heard from the locket every night, but this time he can hear Sirius, he can't hear what he's saying, only his voice, angry and afraid and in pain and screaming and the whispers are laughing and—

—and he opens his eyes with a sharp, dragging gasp that sets him to coughing, curling up around seizing lungs, but as soon as he can draw a clean breath he's moving, he needs to know, he needs to see him. When he opens Sirius' door, he hardly notices that Kreacher had indeed made some effort here as well, he can only look at his brother. Here. Alive. Asleep. It must be fifteen years since he'd last ended up in Sirius' room after a bad dream, but he closes the door behind him and curls up on top of the covers, weak with relief that he's all right. He'll go soon. In a minute. He'll just close his eyes for a minute.]

[ 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.

[Regulus starts awake again when something touches him, but it only takes a moment to recognize Sirius reaching for him across the years. He hadn't climbed under the covers the way he'd done when they'd both been children—sometimes all the way under, a shapeless lump that Sirius had prodded and wondered aloud what it was and if it was a monster he needed to tickle to defeat—but he still shifts closer and curls into the arm.]

Not me. You.

[It's a whisper, hesitant, he should let Sirius fall asleep again, but...]

I heard you. In my dreams. I needed...I had to see you were safe. Go back to sleep.

[ it's so bizarre, like being catapulted into the past. here in grimmauld place again, it's the middle of the night and regulus is crawling into his bed, quiet and afraid, and sirius is comforting him sleepily. suddenly they're boys again, and nothing has changed, there's no war, no horcrux, no voldemort. ]

I'm all right.

[ his voice is still rough, and his movements heavy and lazy, but he makes no attempt to move away or banish regulus; his arm remains in place, looped over his brother's back, keeping him near. there's nothing in this world that could erase his innate drive to protect, even if it's his own safety that regulus is dreaming about, sirius has to shield him from that, too. slow and lazy, his thumb moves up and down along regulus' spine, soft and soothing, and his eyes are closed again but he isn't asleep, not yet. ]

[He's silent for a long time, he thinks, listening to the sounds of the house settling back into being occupied, focusing on the slow, steady rhythm against his back. He'd never been as tactile a person as Sirius, never reached out as much for it, never minded as much when he didn't touch people. But each sweep is grounding him just that much more, reminding him that he's here, he's safe, Sirius is here, Sirius is safe.

It's his left arm he reaches out with, to wrap around Sirius' chest, but his eyes are closed and he doesn't think about it.]

Are you?

[There's no one here but them, there's no reason to whisper, but it still feels like he should. Like they really are children again, and he's snuck down the hall to his brother's room and they need to whisper or risk being overheard and Regulus ordered back to his room.]

[ for all they'd become estranged, and grown apart as they aged, sirius had all but forgotten how desperately cute his brother could be. they're only a year apart, but somehow regulus has always felt.. younger somehow. smaller. softer. like something to be protected.

maybe it was nothing more than sirius' own arrogance making him feel that way, but he'd never lost that opinion, and he's feeling it again now, with his brother's skinny arm closing around him, that need to defend. to make him feel like everything will be all right. it's such a peaceful, quiet moment, regulus warm and smelling familiar beside him, the embers popping in the fireplace, that he's nearly dozing off again when regulus' voice whispers through the dimness. sirius chuckles, the sound like a soft, rolling growl. ]

Yeah.

[ his eyelids flicker open, and sirius' mouth pulls into a slow, sleepy smile, but it disappears in an instant the moment his gaze falls to the inside of regulus' arm. the image is sharp, clear, and unmistakable, and with a jolt of recognition sirius is snapped entirely awake, aware, a sick feeling twisting in the pit of his stomach. quick as a whip, he snags his brother's wrist and holds it. ]

No - oh, Reg, no -

[The adrenaline spike has him tensing to bolt, he's even halfway sitting up before he realizes why, but the pain in Sirius' voice has him curling into himself. He wants to pull his arm back, hide the Mark back beneath layers and layers of cloth, why hadn't he remembered, he hadn't ever wanted...]

I didn't want you to see.

[He finally forces himself to tip his head up, to look at Sirius' face in the dark. Does he hate him now? Now that he has the proof of how deeply Regulus had buried himself?]

Don't look at it. Sirius. Don't.

[ just the sight of it, the knowledge of what it meant, what it still means, is like a hot knife in his heart. it stings, and it aches, and sirius feels a hot swirl of emotion churning in his gut and it makes him feel sick, dizzy with shock.

how had it gotten this bad? regulus was always too obedient, malleable, so ready to eat up all the venom that his parents had been trying to feed them both and yet sirius couldn't bring himself to consider that it could have gone this far. that he'd have been so close to it, so deep in it that he's been branded forever with this vile, twisted thing. that he'd allowed it to happen.

a sound moves in sirius' throat, dry and aching like a wounded animal, but he doesn't let up, doesn't release his grip. he's angry, ferociously angry. angry at their parents for poisoning their children with hate, angry with voldemort of being the evil, hateful creature that he is, angry with regulus for being fool enough to allow himself to believe it.

but mostly, sirius realizes, he's angry with himself. regulus had been so young. sirius knew it, knew how he was, knew how soft his brother had been, how desperate he was to feel useful and worthy. he'd known all of that and he'd still run away, left him in the jaws of the beast to fend for himself knowing full well that he couldn't stand a chance against the overwhelming darkness. he'd been so damned selfish. arrogant. he'd been a bloody fool, and his little brother had suffered for it because sirius wasn't there to protect him when he needed it most.

his grip on that wrist is painfully tight, knuckles white, but he can't let up. that awful, ugly mark - he could have prevented this. could have stopped it. there's a tightness in sirius' throat that threatens to choke him, a horrible, grieving fury swallowing him up. ]

Dammit, I - [ his voice feels thick, like he can't force words through a too-tight throat, and sirius' opposite hand moves to grasp at regulus' neck, pulling him in 'til their foreheads touch, long fingers tangling in dark hair and tightening like he's looking for an anchor. ] Reggie, I - I'm -

[ sorry, sorry, so bloody sorry. ]

No, no, no, Sirius, no. [It's rapid-fire, sharp whispers as Regulus scrambles to wrap his free arm around Sirius' shoulders and shakes his head, leaning in, anything to show that he's here, he's here, he's alive. That thing on his arm and everything that surrounded it, it hasn't stopped him.]

I wanted to tell you, as soon as it happened I wanted to tell you you were right about everything, I wanted to start running and never stop, I hate it, I'm sorry, I never wanted you to have to look at it.

[He's tugging weakly at his arm, even though Sirius' grip is bruisingly tight and he'll never pull it free without fighting him off and he'd rather die, he'd rather die right now than lash out. But it's awful, stark and almost smug curled beneath his skin, a claim Regulus will never be able to shed, and one he'd never wanted to burden Sirius with. He wears the wraps to avoid drawing attention to it, to avoid accidentally seeing it, and if he'd been more careful...

If he'd been more careful, maybe he could have kept Sirius from hurting like this.]

[ for all of regulus' hopes, there's simply no way he could have hidden it forever. or even for a long amount of time. those wraps were simply too suspicious, and sirius would have ferreted it out on his own eventually. secrets like this.. they have a way of outing themselves, no matter how hard you might try to keep them hidden.

and besides, for what it's worth, sirius would much rather know the truth and feel the pain now, than be hidden from it, and allow his brother to suffer on his own.

this ache, it runs through them both, back and forth like a snake swallowing its own tail, an endless loop. at last sirius releases his iron grip on regulus' wrist, and he uses that arm to scoop his huddled brother in close, squeezing him, all but crushing him as if somehow sirius could protect him from all of this with his own body, shield him as if it were something physical assailing them both. ]

No. [ he says, sharply, and surely, despite the rough quality of his voice. ] Don't keep anything from me. Not anymore. You swear to me, Reg - no more secrets.

[ sirius squeezes his eyes shut, presses his face against the crown of regulus' head, into his messy, overgrown hair. ]

It's not your fault.

[It's harder to breathe like this, but it doesn't seem important. The sheets are bunched between them and suddenly Regulus pulls back, enough to rip at the fabric and yank it back and pull the covers over the both of them, up to their chins. Just like they used to. The memory is so strong that for a moment he wonders how they both got so big.

And now he's able to wrap both arms around his brother's waist and bury his face in his shoulder, and relax into the crushing grip.]

I promise, I promise, no more secrets, I'm sorry.

[He isn't certain if he's the one shaking, or if it's Sirius, or if both of them together are just trying so hard to hold on, but the warmth of the blankets is helping. He'd never thought he'd have this again and it's going to be so much harder to let go if he needs to run again.]

[ it feels better, once the covers are around them both, and regulus is pressed close, both arms tight around his middle, and sirius is able to scoop him up with both arms and hold tight.

it feels safe. warm. nostalgic. it makes him feel that if he just holds on hard enough he can keep regulus together, keep him from harm, the blankets like a shield around them, the silence of the night a little private bubble that no one can penetrate. the worst news is out there now, but what matters is that regulus is alive, he's alive, and he's come around, and together, somehow, they'll make this work, they'll fix this thing.

so after a few long moments of quiet, sirius at last begins to loosen his grip. he doesn't let go, but he's no longer crushing his brother desperately, he's just holding him, keeping him close, cloistered, safe. with his eyes closed, sirius exhales softly, the tension in his body eking away, and he's sinking into the thick mattress and bedding again, relaxed. when he speaks his voice is hoarse, but soft. ]

It's all right.

It will be.

[He smiles, a real smile, if a tired one, and shifts to rest his head on Sirius' shoulder.]

Go back to sleep.

[Regulus doesn't expect to sleep like this, he doesn't expect to sleep at all, so it's a sharp surprise when he wakes again a few hours later, warm and comfortable, tangled up in someone else. For a frantic moment, he doesn't know where he is, who this is, but the memories come pouring back immediately: his shock at seeing Sirius advancing at him through the Three Broomsticks, the tension and uncertainty at coming back here with him, at getting him involved. Locking the necklace away, relieved to be rid of its torment for even a little while. The nightmare, and coming in here, and yes, there are the Gryffindor banners and the nonmoving Muggle posters he'd been so proud of at school.

He's home. He's safe. Sirius doesn't hate him, even though he'd taken the Mark. He doesn't need to be alone anymore.

The relief that shimmers through him leaves a sheen of tears behind, and Regulus curls up closer to Sirius as he blinks them away against the pillow. It's morning, he can barely see a corner of sky out the window, but it's too early to leave this behind yet.]

[ comfortable as this is, nice as it feels to have his brother back, warm and solid and real against him, it's still a little while before sirius falls asleep. it's not too long a wait, but there are several long moments where he simply soaks it in, enjoys it, breathes in the smell of regulus' hair and appreciates it for what it is.

but it's still not long before the warmth and human contact, and the sound of his brother's steady breathing, begins to lull him to sleep again.

sirius is no less a touchy, affectionate man in sleep than he is awake, and he keeps regulus close, flings himself all over him, like his brother's a bigger, less fluffy teddy bear. morning comes, and sirius is still draped around him, chin rested on the crown of his head; be thankful, at least, that he isn't drooling.

the movement makes him stir a bit, even though sirius doesn't wake entirely, only shifts and murmurs a big, the sound like a low, rough growl, and he renews his grip. ]

[The insistence of the grip, even in Sirius' sleep, is unexpected, and Regulus squirms a little, which makes very little difference. Except he finds he doesn't mind, and after a few moments he relaxes again, although he can't help rolling his eyes. He should have expected it, Sirius had always been the clinging type when they'd been younger too.

It's warm and he drifts again, thinking about Sirius and his clinging, how common it had been once to feel it, how much he'd missed it and how careful he'd been never to let Sirius know. But here in the early morning, with Sirius growling possessively in his sleep, it's easier to move closer and nestle his face into his brother's neck and just let himself be wanted a while longer.]

[ it's true, sirius has always been the touchy-feely sort, loves to snuggle and kiss and hold people close - and it's never more true than it is of those he's afraid for.

he'd been so sure that regulus was dead. why wouldn't he have been? there was no reason not to believe it. but it's been weighing on his mind heavily, squeezing his heart with guilt, because he can't ever stop believing that what happened to regulus was his fault, that he was too selfish, that he'd failed the little brother he had been meant to protect.

so having him back - it feels like a second chance, and even in his sleep sirius is unwilling to let him go.

he wakes up before long, though, stirring and stretching, grumbling groggily. his eyes slant open to find the walls of his old room, and a tangle of dark hair that isn't his own. after a few brief seconds his awareness kicks back in, and sirius chuckles softly, shutting his eyes again, his arms still heavy around his brother's body. ]

So much for not meaning to sleep here.

[They're close enough that Regulus can feel the change in Sirius' breathing as he starts to wake. He tries to sit up, to give him a little space, but Sirius hasn't loosened his arms and there's no space to be had.

There's a little guilty stab at that, and he remembers how uncomfortable this house makes his brother, that it's never been a home to him, even if Regulus feels like he can really relax for the first time in months now that he's home.]

Sorry. [It's soft, and into his neck, Regulus curling up a little with the word.] I shouldn't have made you stay. I know you hate it here.

[ sirius feels the way regulus curls up, and knows immediately that he misspoke, stuffed his foot into his mouth, as he is wont to do. his voice is rough with sleep, a harsh croak. ]

Didn't make me do anything. I'm here because I want to be.

[ he doesn't want to be in this house, no, but he wants to be with regulus, and right now regulus needs to be here. discomfort or no, sirius is going to stand by him, and support him as long as he needs to. his brother is barely holding himself together, he needs time to heal, to decompress, and there's no one else in the world that will help him now. save for sirius, regulus is alone in this world, and he's not about to abandon his brother again. he wont make that same mistake twice. ]

'M glad to help.

[ sirius' grip loosens a little, just enough to allow his brother some room to escape if he wants it, but keeping him close if he doesn't. sirius is, clearly, perfectly content to stay like this. ]

[The extra space lets Regulus roll onto his back, scrub over his face with his hands, but he doesn't move away any more than that. He doesn't really want to. He'd had a nightmare and had snuck to Sirius' room to hide away from it, just the same after so many years. He hadn't thought anything could be the same after that long.]

He saved me. Kreacher. [He drops his hands and looks away, stares across the room at the little flying skeletons floating in front of Sirius' Gryffindor Quidditch banner.] The Dark Lord almost killed him, and laughed about it when he came back. And I know you always hated him, but he was my friend, and I was so...angry.

[ regulus pulls away a bit, but just enough to turn over, which is acceptable. sirius is on his side, and he remains there, one arm crooked beneath his head for support. and at last he opens his eyes, watching his brother from beneath heavy eyelids, still and solemn as the glassy surface of a lake. the room is still dim, lit only by what dawn light can filter through the heavy, dusty curtains, but it's enough to see by.

sirius is quiet for a few long moments, his expression tight and hard. there's really nothing that kreacher could really do to ever endear himself to sirius; they're old enemies, and they always will be, it's doubtful that anything will ever reconcile them. but.. ]

Doesn't matter, how I feel about him. He was there for you when - [ it's hard to voice, he's ashamed, but sirius pushes the words out anyway. ] - when I wasn't. And good thing he was, too.

[ because it wasn't sirius that saved his brother, it was that damnable elf, but even sirius can admit that that's a debt he can never repay. after a moment, sirius uncurls one hand to run his fingers gently through regulus' dark, messy hair, slow and soothing, back and forth. ]

But he's still here.

He came to find me.

[He hadn't really meant to tell Sirius any of this, not so soon, but he'd promised. No more secrets. He closes his eyes as Sirius cards his fingers through his hair, remembering the way he'd do this to ease Regulus out of being upset over his nightmares. It makes it easier to talk. The nostalgia puts distance between what they've been through and where they are now.]

There was a cave. And a potion. It had to be drunk. Kreacher had already had to drink it, the Dark Lord had tested it on him, I couldn't...make him do it again, so I made Kreacher swear to take the necklace and destroy it, and I drank— [He has to swallow against the surging of his stomach, and presses instinctively closer to Sirius again to ward off the chill that threatens to come back.]

I drank it. But Kreacher didn't leave without me, he brought me back. I would have died there. I thought I was dying.

no you!!

thedogfather - 2017-01-22 07:20 (UTC) - Expand

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3Broomsticks, a mingle meme

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you're supposed to be sleeping!!

don't tell me what to do!!

i'll tell you all i want!!

you're not my real dad! >:(

h-how dare!! after all i have done for you!!

it doesn't mean i LIKE you bAKA!!

then why are you blushing!!

y-you are!!

no you!!