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

Everlasting

"you hold on to those people because there is faith in your heart and trust in your hands.
bear in mind that not everyone deserves both."
-via R. Reddy

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12 Grimmauld Place, August 1977

Much to his discontent, Grimmauld Place still stood tall and daunting in the middle of London as it had when he'd left it. The knocker had been polished and the bricks washed over the years, and his mother's window boxes had been tended to recently, judging by the freshly potted soil. Their door had been repainted as well; it stood darker than he remembered. A welcome mat had been placed at the doorstep, brown and simple – not much to look at, he thought. His mother must've decided that Sirius's departure equated a renovation of sorts.

He'd been sitting on the bench across from his old home, hands wringing desperately in front of him, as he tried his hardest to muster the courage to enter. Something inside of him held him back with all its energy, holding him by his hands as he forced himself to even enter the old town. It had been nearly three years since his removal from Grimmauld Place, and he was sure most of his things had been burned since then, but that hadn't been the reason he'd come to visit.

Regulus had written to him over his summer holiday asking for help, which, in and of itself, was a strange occurrence. Last time Sirius checked, his brother had been dead set on living his life how he planned it out to be, and that way was the dark way; Sirius wanted nothing to do with it. If Regulus wanted to associate with the likes of his cousins and Voldemort, then so be it. Who was Sirius to stop him? He wasn't surprised, truth be told. Their mother was conniving and retched, and Sirius was astonished it had taken that long for her to sink her dirty little claws into his sensitive, young brain.

They'd had a falling out, of course, after Alphard's funeral. They hollered and screamed, threatened and vowed, and had renounced their brotherhood in front of their parents. Sirius had sworn never to speak to Regulus again, and Regulus had sworn to curse Sirius had he ever step foot back in Grimmauld Place. Sirius had slapped his brother for insulting the Potter's, and Regulus nearly killed Sirius when bringing their mother into the situation. As far as anyone could have told, their relationship crumbled to bits.

That hadn't truly been the case. They may have fought, and they fought quite often, and they may have said the most awful things to one another, but Sirius would have done practically anything for his brother if he'd only asked. This time, Regulus had asked, and Sirius responded.

In his letter, Regulus mentioned their father's declining health and their mother's newborn drinking habits. Sirius wasn't the least bit surprised at the latter given the performance she'd given at her own brother's funeral. Regulus went on discussing her treatment toward everyone in the house, himself included, and asked Sirius if he would come and visit.

Now, the true question Regulus asked was if Sirius would come and resolve their precarious domestic situation, which he wasn't inclined to do. His parents had always been vicious towards him, and a social call wouldn't be turning the tables any time soon. If anything, so Sirius thought, it would make matters worse. He hardly suspected either one of his parents wanted him turning up on their doorstep in the middle of August while one was blabbering drunk and the other in the midst of croaking.

Yet, there he was.

It had been a quarter past three. Over and over, he examined his watch. Time moved so slowly when there was something that had to be done. One moment your whizzing through the tubes and the next your sitting in front of the home you'd essentially been thrown from in the hopes you could glue a broken family back together.