❝𝑨𝑵𝑫 𝑳𝑶𝑽𝑬 𝑾𝑨𝑺 𝑵𝑬𝑽𝑬𝑹 𝑭𝑹𝑬𝑬❞
in which there is a war to be fought, and two former opposites realize what it really means to lose everything.
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or:
in which sage fontaine and sirius black don't know how to cope with the realities of w...
No matter how many times Sage had Apparated in the year and a half since she'd gotten her license, the nausea never quite went away.
So when she landed on the sidewalk outside of 12 Grimmauld Place, she stooped over and put her hands on her knees, breathing deeply to fight off the urge to throw up her breakfast.
The door to the townhouse swung open, and Regulus himself was running out, wearing dark green dress robes and a panicked expression.
"Go home. Leave. You can't be here right now." He said in a quiet, rushed voice. He looked over his shoulder, back at the brick building, just in case his mother—or someone worse—followed him out.
She brushed his concerns off with a shake of her head. "No. It's your birthday. I'm spending your birthday with you, Reggie. Whether you like it or not." She said firmly.
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He grabbed her by the arm. "Sage. Stop. Now isn't the time for you to pull shit like this. He's in there right now, and I don't trust you not to get yourself killed."
He was gripping her forearm so tightly that it was beginning to hurt, and she gave him a glare.
"'Know your enemy and know yourself, and in a hundred battles you will never be defeated.'" Sage whispered harshly. "I know you don't read much muggle literature, but you really should take a look at The Art of War."
Regulus shoved her away from him then, more forcefully than he'd meant to. But she didn't stumble; she stayed gracefully on her feet and upright.
"Go home, Sage. I'm not letting you try to be a double agent. Let me protect you, just this once, alright? Please, go home." He said.
She met his gaze, and for a few beats, they held heavy eye contact.
Regulus looked so much like his brother in moments like this, where he was angry and heated and desperate to be listened to. He looked so much like Sirius that it was rather hard for her to remember why they went down such different paths.
"Fine." She said, a few seconds later. "Don't get yourself killed. And write me sometimes, alright? I worry about you."
