Carve Me Open / r.l. + s.b. /

Game Over

"I never had what you had," Sirius growled, teeth bared dangerously. "I never had the attention, the love – any of it! And what did you do? You took it for granted, you fucking traitor." Regulus sputtered, droplets of blood dripping down his chin. His eyes were glazed, rolling in his skull wildly. "How could you? After what we did for you! What about me? James? Remus? We took you in, you bloody bastard!"

Regulus went limp in Sirius' grasp, body sliding down as his weight increased. Sirius stumbled, catching his brother with a free hand.

"No," Regulus mumbled. "Didn't tell them... anything. Swear."

Sirius laid his brother down on the floor, looking down with betrayal swelling as tears in the dips of his eyelids.

"How can I trust you," he asked, a hint of hurt breaking through the slits of his resolve. He flinched as blood trickled from Regulus' nose. "How could I ever trust you again?"

"T-They," Regulus stumbled over his words, "He wanted to know... Order. I didn't tell. Couldn't."

"Prove it," Sirius demanded, jabbing an accusatory finger in Regulus' battered face. "How do I know you're telling me the truth?"

"Truth Serum," Regulus suggested. "I'll take it. Please. I... I'll do a-anything."

Sirius watched as his brother's eyes stilled, glazed and milky. Blood vessels were beginning to break in the whites of his eyes, the stream of blood from his nose seeping into the cracks of his lips. Guilt was trying its hardest to navigate its way to Sirius' heart, whispering words of regrets to the part of his mind that still adored his little brother, however suspicious the night had been.

Could he trust his brother? Could he believe anything he said that night? It was an ambush at Malfoy Manor – Sirius just knew it was. Someone knew they'd be called and knew exactly how to target them. There was an insider, and as of that moment, the only person he could point his finger at was his brother. His ties to the dark side were stronger than anyone else's. It was the only possible answer. Sirius considered the Veritaserum; it was in his potion's cabinet, nearby.

Sirius strode towards his door, wand in hand, when a hand pulled at the cuff of his jeans. He looked down, eyes landing on Regulus as he clung to consciousness.

"Don't," he murmured. "S'trap. Don't go in. He's wa... waitin..."

Regulus' body went limp, eyes open and mouth drooping. Blood oozed from his mouth with saliva, an awful mixture. Sirius' heart clenched, the breath in his lungs squeezed by the fist of regret and fright. He scooped Regulus into his arms without thinking, eyes glancing at the doorway to his flat. If Regulus had been telling the truth, and however angry Sirius might have been, something told him that he was, then his death stood on the other side of five inches of oak. Who had been waiting? Voldemort?

Whatever the case had been, Regulus needed medical attention. Immediately. Sirius should have never hurt him the way he did; it was unfair. The turmoil had subsided, leaving only dark guilt in the pit of his stomach.

Perhaps Moody had been right: Sirius really was just like his mother.

▬▬ι══════════════ι▬▬

St. Mungo's Hospital for Magical Maladies and Injuries, September 1979

Remus paced the floor worriedly, the skin lining the inside of his cheeks now torn and chewed. Lily and James tended to each other, anxious for the arrival of Peter and Sirius – the latter seemingly nowhere to be found. Remus' body ached, bones tired and sore from his skirmish with Bellatrix minutes ago; he would not see a healer. His mind wouldn't let him rest until he caught sight of his lover. It was silly, really, how his brain refused to placate itself. Fears and conclusions danced in the forefront of his mind – all about the wellbeing of his father and friends.