fatal love

Chapter 60

" Family, " Sirius echoed, laughing sarcastically.

"Yes, Sirius, family,"  Regulus said, "the thing you don't seem to care about anymore. You're acting so selfishly - you're the Heir, you could have everything, and you throw it all away. I don't get it."

"Yeah, I'm the Heir, but you're the favourite," Sirius argued dispassionately, "we both know Walburga and Orion wish you'd been born first. I'm a disappointment, you're the son they're proud of."

"Don't act like I'm the lucky one in this house! Mother spends all her time either worrying about you or trying to show you off, and I get forgotten!" Reg's voice was getting louder, and he was glaring at Sirius.

What a stupid argument, though. Yeah, Sirius got the joys of Walburga's attention, which meant Laceros, Imperios, and now, Crucios. Like Reg wanted to get treated like that. Sirius didn't bother responding, just rolled his eyes, but that only made Reg madder.

"And then I make the Quidditch team, and do something for myself, and you go and copy me!" he continued. "Do you know what it's like, always being the spare? And you wouldn't even let me have Quidditch!"

"You're mad about Quidditch?" Sirius asked. "Merlin, Reg, grow up and get over it. I'm allowed to join my House team."

They had reached Reg's bedroom door by now, but Reg wasn't going inside, he was too preoccupied with being a spoilt little wanker, whining about attention. It made Sirius' blood boil. Regulus wasn't the son who had the right to be angry.

"Yeah, because you get to do whatever you want, and we all just have to deal with it!" Regulus snapped.

"Do whatever I want?" Sirius asked deliriously. "Are you delusional? I can't do anything without thinking about what Walburga would do to me!"

"You got to go and get yourself a new brother," Regulus muttered.

"Yeah, because you used to have my back! Now you only listen to our parents, you just watch what they do to me without doing a thing to stop it. James would do something, he would stand up for me. You chose them ."

Sirius didn't give Regulus a chance to respond, storming away and slamming the door to his room. What an entitled, privileged, deranged, idiot cunt. How dare he blame Sirius for their family falling apart, while Walburga was going two out of three on Unforgivable Curses. And then get jealous over James! As if he had any right to complain about Sirius being a bad brother.

His fight with Regulus marked the end of Sirius putting in what little effort he had been with the Blacks. He talked back to Walburga, he mouthed off at Orion, he glared at Reg. He loudly declared he was against blood purity, that he thought Voldemort was a cock, really anything that went against traditional Black beliefs, proudly and unashamedly. Half the time, his behaviour got him a Crucio, but he couldn't help it. Each time, when he regained his senses, he would look at Regulus pointedly. See what kind of brother you are? Each time, Regulus would look away, refusing to acknowledge anything had happened.

His expressed push against blood supremacy only ended up pushing Regulus further away, in the end. He nodded along sycophantically to Walburga's rants, and had taken to sticking clippings from the Daily Prophet up in his room whenever Voldemort or the Death Eaters scored a win. Sirius wasn't sure if he did that because those news articles actually made him happy, or if it was some twisted way of displaying the family loyalty that Sirius so obviously lacked. Either way, Sirius didn't care, it was bloody despicable.

He didn't care, he told himself. He didn't. He had James. Regulus could abandon him if he wanted. Sirius didn't care.

That summer also was the first time that Walburga seemed to be seriously doubting his suitability as Heir. What she had once seen as childish rebellion that she had to stamp out, she now seemed to realise that it wouldn't be that easy. When they had other families over for dinner, the Malfoys or the Lestranges or the Rosiers, she didn't let Sirius join in, evidently not trusting him. Even being the Heir wouldn't let him into those conversations anymore, especially now the Imperio wasn't an option.

The lessons with Walburga changed over that summer as well. Minchum was engaging in open warfare with the Death Eaters, as opposed to Jenkins' more subdued approach, and reports of duels and deaths in the Prophet had tripled. Walburga's response to this was to start training Sirius and Regulus how to duel. Sirius wasn't an idiot, he knew what this sort of training was leading too. This wasn't just old family knowledge anymore, this was preparing him for battle, and more importantly, preparing him to fight with Voldemort.

Walburga would take turns, dueling him and Regulus, and she didn't go easy on them. They both often left the library bruised, bleeding and battered, but Sirius had to admit, her methods were nothing if not effective. He'd cut down his reaction time, expanded his list of known spells, and could even cast the simpler ones non-verbally. He was still nothing compared to Walburga, but he was improving.

Sirius' summer passed excruciatingly slowly. He never made it a week without a Crucio, and Regulus didn't say more than a word to him after their fight. Sirius quickly realised his best way to deal would be simply to embrace his Black side, and shut off any need for friendship, or affection. Shut off any emotion at all, really. He stopped writing James quickly, and went back to spending most of his free time reading, studying either for Fifth Year or reading more of the books on the Dark Arts.

He tried to think of his family as they had taught him to think of other people - be cold to them, emotionless. He tried not to let it bother him that he obviously kept disappointing Walburga, that Reg now hated him. It wasn't as easy to cut them off as it was to cut off other people, but he pretended he was doing a fine job, like if he convinced himself he didn't care what they thought, then magically he wouldn't.

By the end of summer, he felt like a shell of his old self. His thoughts were darker, and he was ready to snap at anyone who wouldn't Crucio him. He'd gotten jumpy as well, always nervous and on edge, expecting to be cursed at any moment. Ready to either lash out or cower at the slightest provocation.

For the first time, he didn't feel ready to go back to Hogwarts. He couldn't belong there, as the Black Heir. But he couldn't belong in Grimmauld Place either, as a Gryffindor, or as Sirius.