In 1992, Pettigrew was captured and Sirius was declared innocent. The first thing he did after his acquittal was offer Harry a home. The moment his godson accepted his invitation, he swore to himself that he would do right by the boy and always prot...
Regulus shot up in his bed, drenched in cold sweat. While his nightmares had become less frequent over the last few years, they'd never stopped. Some were worse than others. Every single one of his nightmares was an agonising walk down memory lane. It was always that same darkness, his darkness, evil and Regulus' fear. It never seemed to get better.
He glanced at the bedside clock: 2:47
He'd been reliving his first day. He had been the youngest 'recruit' but none of the others had dared to mock him. He was the son of the late Orion Black after all. Easily the most vicious, cruel and merciless death eater ever. Regulus remembered every single detail of his brief period as one of them. He remembered Voldemort's ice cold hand on his shoulder, welcoming him to the 'team', it was horrible. He'd put on a stoic mask and forced himself to do the Dark Lord's bidding.
He swung his legs over the side and stood up. He pulled on a robe over his pyjamas and went of his room. He definitely needed a drink. He'd had two other nightmares after moving back into Black Manor. The other two occupants of the house weren't aware of this.
Thanks to the thick carpet, his feet made no sound. He entered the kitchen but stopped short when he saw Sirius leaning against the counter, nursing his own drink.
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Damn it!
He'd managed to hide his problems so far. Too late now. Instead, he forced himself to smirk and took a seat on one of the stools. "What's bothering you at this hour, brother? Worried about grey hair and other woes of old age?" He hoped that the lighthearted tone would work.
Sirius didn't reply. He wandlessly summoned a glass for Regulus, poured a bit of fire whiskey into it and slid it over. "You look like you need it." Regulus accepted the glass with a grateful nod. He downed the glass and set it on the counter.
"This was the third one, wasn't it?"
How? How was it that Sirius always knew?
"Yes."
A pause.
"Why didn't you confront me earlier?" Sirius shrugged and took another sip.
"I knew that you didn't want to talk about it."
"Mmhm. So is Harry asleep?" Regulus asked. Dumb question, Reg. "Yeah."
"Why are you up, Sirius?" He was curious to know.
"That bloody locket has been bothering me for a while, Reg." Then, he added jokingly: "I spent the last decade in Azkaban. I can hardly be expected to sleep like a baby." Regulus immediately felt guilty. Sometimes he forgot what Sirius had been through. If one were to look at his older brother, they'd never be able to guess that he'd left Azkaban less than two years ago.
"How do you do it?" He needed to know. "How do you manage to keep all those memories from consuming you? I've tried, Sirius, and failed. Every time I close my eyes, I'm always afraid that I'll find myself in Voldemort's lair. The nightmares aren't frequent but they're still there. And I hate it. Every damn second of it. How did you get rid of your memories?"
