Chapter Text
It was cold.
Sirius could see the freezing wind, it was whipping his long unkempt hair around his face. The sea was rough. Great big waves flew up to the stone port they were standing on. The approaching ferry was tipping uneasily in the stormy waters.
The guards had warming charms humming around them, but they still were still decorated in scarves and hats. It was autumn back at home, but here, it was bitter and dark.
He knew it was cold logically, but he felt nothing. It was how he was coping. Blank it all out. Put the barriers up. Forget as much as possible.
He had laughed manically at how ridiculous everything was, at first. And then he cried. Sobbed grievously in that holding cell back at the Ministry. The loss of his friends consuming him.
Even the beating he had taken from the guards didn't equate to the pain he had felt of messing this whole thing up so very badly. And now, he was certain he was heading into madness.
Charged with murder.
Not the murder he should be responsible for. Not his best friend and his wife, who he had so carelessly let down.
The murder of twelve muggles. Twelve muggles that he hadn't actually murdered. Twelve muggles who had been casualties of a duel he was having with his childhood friend, Peter.
Someone who he had been certain had been a good person. Someone he had trusted implicitly. Naively, perhaps. A sweet, chubby boy. Someone who liked to light his own farts and always had the best muggle porn.
But no, Sirus was the traitor and had done the unthinkable.
And, so it was Sirius' fault. It didn't matter that he trusted the wrong person. He had let everyone down. And now he was heading to prison. Charged with murder, but there had been no jury. No proceedings. No court had tried him. He was just a murderer.
Which was right.
And he was going mad.
Probably more so in the last few minutes, because he was certain he could smell his brother.
He could also smell Snivellus Snape.
So yes, insanity was imminent.
They couldn't possibly be here. Here was nowhere. A place where no one should be. The middle of the ocean, in a place of horrors. A place where a boat would ship him to an ever lasting incarceration.
So smelling his brother and a boy from school that he detested … was not quite right.
Even in his descent into madness. Sirius was aware of something happening. He frowned, a little unhappy that something had slipped through his numb state. There was a charge in the air. A strange static that was sparking in his synapses.
The guards were oblivious. They were smoking and chatting whilst they waited for the boat to moor. It was still far away. Pulled by a large magical chain.
Azkaban was behind a cloud of mist. He couldn't see it, but he knew it was there. A cloud of misery. His new home.
The apparation point was a sign post. Wizarding humour. It read, Here is nowhere. Very funny.
The post sparked momentarily, like a single uncertain firework.
And then it blew up.
Sirius shielded his face with his chained hands and took a few steps back. One guard had hit the floor, and a great raven flapped down and took his wand.
Regulus appeared with pinpoint accuracy, pointing his wand at the guard. “Obliviate,” he said distinctly, and then whispered in the guard’s ear.
The other guard was about to get up and attack. Sirius elbow dropped the fucker. It was all he could think of. His hands and feet were shackled.
The guard groaned in pain, and Regulus repeated the obliviation with him. “Let's go,” he said, hauling Sirius to his feet.
Sirius hissed in pain. In an attempt to protect his younger brother, he had reopened the cuts that had been haphazardly healed from the beating he had taken.
Regulus spotted the blood that was rapidly leaking from Sirius ribs on the prison garb. But he held out an arm for the raven, grabbed hold of Sirius and apparated them away.
~
Something wasn’t right.
It smelled like home.
Not the nice home, he had lived in with Remus. The old one that he had hated. The scent was the perfect mixture of tapestries, damp, furniture polish and malevolence.
“Shall I take the young Master's dressings, Master Regulus?” That was Kreacher.
Oh gods, no. Not Grimmauld Place.
“Yes please, and could you bring me another pain potion and some witch hazel?” That was Regulus.
Sirius tried to open his eyes. Nope, they weren’t complying.
“This wasn't the deal, Regulus. He wasn't supposed to see me.” That was Snivellus Snape. What was he doing here?
“Plans change, Severus,” Regulus stated calmly. “I can’t heal him like you can.”
Sirius felt a twinge by his ribs, his skin was being tugged mercilessly. A sharp pain pierced him and he bit his tongue in an effort to stay silent.
“Lucky me,” Snape drawled in that irritating Midlands drone.
“He’s not awake, anyway …” Regulus concluded.
“Unbelievable that he’s got such a tiny todger,” Snape said mockingly.
Sirius opened his eyes. “Fuck you, Snivellus!”
“Ah, look at that, he’s awake after all,” Snape stated dryly, piercing his skin again with a fucking needle.
“What are you doing to me?” Sirius demanded, trying to back away. He didn’t get far, he was as weak as a newborn.
“Harvesting your organs,” Snape drawled.
“Severus, please!” Regulus held Sirius’ arm. “Sirius, stay still, brother. You’re in bad shape and we need to close these wounds.”
Sirius pulled a face as Snape kept up his cross stitch on Sirius’ skin. “Use a fucking spell!”
“Do you know any wound knitting healing spells, Black?” Snivellus asked. Sirius shook his head. “Well, neither do fucking we. So we’re doing the best we can.”
Kreacher reappeared with a small silver tray, holding the vials. Sirius was lying on the kitchen table. His prison shirt had been removed and he was just wearing trousers without socks. It was evening by the look of the sun from the window.
Regulus lifted Sirius's head. “Drink this pain potion.”
He swallowed and was glad of the numbness. Regulus sat back down and began applying witch hazel and whispering spells over Sirius’ body. Snivellus finally finished and pulled the thread sharply.
“Fucksake,” hissed Sirius. Even with the pain potion it hurt like a bugger. “Are we done?”
Regulus stepped back with a nod and Snivellus was already washing his hands at the sink.
“Good, thanks for the patch up,” Sirius sat up and tried to move.
“Don’t be a fool, Black. You’ll pop those stitches straight away if you don’t rest,” Snape said, eyes heavy with distaste. He was wearing a muggle outfit. Jeans, a t-shirt. Some trainers. He looked so odd.
Regulus was wearing the more formal wizarding trousers and white shirt.
“I’ll take my chances, thanks lads. Not sure I’m a fan of the company,” he nodded at Snapes’ Death Eater tattoo. Knowing his brother had a similar one.
“We have vital information, brother …”
Sirius stood firmly and sighed deeply. “Not interested.”
“We didn’t just free you on a whim, Black!” Snivellus exclaimed, drying his hands on a towel.
“You did it out of guilt! You did it because you picked the wrong fucking side, and look at the world. It all went to shit because of your glorious Dark fucking Lord …” Sirius shouted, holding onto his side.
“We defected before. Sirius, we–”
“Bollocks! You were there to the end, I know your Death Eater masks, I saw you all in Diagon, laughing as you rampaged through the streets!”
Snivellus scoffed. “Sit down, you stupid twat … you’re already bleeding!”
Sirius felt dizzy. “Fucking backstreet healer, can’t even —” everything went black as Sirius’ legs gave out.
~
Severus sighed from his position at the window.
His sixteen year old self wouldn’t believe that five years into the future he would be spending his evening watching over a sleeping Sirius Black.
Without strangling him.
It would be so very easy, just two hands around that ridiculous neck and squeeze until death.
Unfortunately, he’d been tasked with keeping the idiot alive. And, as much as it galled him, as much as he wished this wasn’t so, Severus needed him.
Black snored lightly from his bed. They had transferred him earlier, after they had stitched him back together. They’d taken no chances this time. Kept him asleep, and given him some blood replenishing potions from Severus’ own stock.
Black’s bedroom was as expected. Muggle bikini-clad girls and band posters, an acoustic and electric guitar, photos of the Marauders. Severus curled a lip.
How he had loathed them.
James Potter, rich, dumb and entitled. Loud, brash and unfunny. Remus Lupin, an ‘intellectual’ not by Severus’ standards, quieter but superior, or so he thought. That tubby, short sniggering prick, Pettigrew, reeking of desperation and BO. And, of course, the ultimate arsehole, laughing at his own jokes, arrogance leaking from every pore. Sirius Twatty Black, a brainless man-slut. The meanest of the lot.
Lily had been worn down by Potter. She had lost the fight.
And when she and Severus had reconciled, later in life - just a few short months before … it had happened - she had apologised to Severus, that she had been so fascinated by Potter.
It was not like Severus couldn’t relate to that. He’d been fascinated by the Malfoys, Rodolphus Lestrange, and the Dark Lord himself.
Oh yes, Severus knew of that kind of allure. He’d been taken in so very well.
Now, of course, he knew better.
And, he had made a promise. A promise, that if anything ever happened to Lily, he would protect her son. He would ensure that Harry was safe.
Failing on all accounts hadn’t been in the cards and Severus did not like to fail. But it was not over yet.
“You look like some horrific spectre, come to finish me off,” Black said in a weak voice.
Severus’ gaze turned to his patient. Black was blinking, trying to keep himself awake. “Well, ask nicely.”
Black coughed and cleared his dry throat. “Where is Reg?”
“Sleeping, he passed out just after you,” Severus readjusted his leg on the window seat.
It was silent for a moment. Severus reflected they hadn’t ever really been alone like this in their lives. Maybe the odd awkward moment in the boys loos at school, or passing in the corridors.
“Not to be rude, but can you fuck off. It’s hard to rest with your wretched face watching over me.”
Severus sighed.
“Just shut up, and go back to sleep.”
Severus lay his head back on the window pane, closing his eyes. This must be his punishment. Having to not only spend time with Black but have to take care of him. Lily, you have the most awful sense of humour, he mused.
“Why did you help save me?” asked Sirius softly. The pain potion making him slur like a drunk person.
“You’re the only one,” Severus said simply. Might as well be truthful, it was doubtful Black would remember in the morning.
“The only one … for what?”
“The only one, Black. Just sleep.”
And he did.
~
Sirius was eating, which was a good sign.
He’d looked like death warmed up on Azkaban's apparation port two days ago. The plan, of course, had been played out perfectly. Regulus may be a little younger than his brother and Severus. But what difference did a year make when you had a brain like Regulus’. It was why the Dark Lord had entrusted him with his secret, which was foolish.
Regulus was intelligent but he was also intuitive. It was amazing how many clever people were a little stupid overall.
Not Regulus, which was why he was still alive and other people had perished.
The plan had been a coordinated effort. Severus had tweaked it, to ensure success. He had also wanted to remain in the shadows. He had not wanted Sirius to know he had had any part of the plan to save him.
Another example of a smart person being brainless. Pride was a short-coming. Regulus was trying very hard to rise above his own. Severus was failing.
They had been wrong. Not about all of it. But most of it.
He could admit that.
The overall vision, although still mostly bad, held some merit. There was truth in it. Severus and Sirius had discussed it till the pixies had come home, and the fact remained that as a species, the wixen were superior. The key was that it had never been about ruling over the muggle hoard. It was just a fact, and that was that.
There had never really been a need to announce it.
Of course, the Dark Lord had had a plan that lay over the vision. And what he envisioned was that he would not only rule over the muggles, but over the wixen too. Regulus hadn’t seen it till it had been too late. Now his parents were dead and a lot of his family members and friends were incarcerated.
Regulus wafted the bad thoughts away. There was a new plan now. A better one.
“How are you feeling?” he asked his brother.
“Like death on a medium heat.” Sirius side-eyed him from the bed. He was sitting up against the headboard, a breakfast tray on his lap.
“Well, I suppose it will take a while for you to be back to normal, you were in pretty bad shape when we rescued you,” Regulus reasoned.
Sirius grunted and shoved some more bacon and eggs in his mouth.
“You looked like you’d been beaten pretty badly, was it the guards?”
Sirius’ body had been covered in bruises and gashes. Regulus was at a loss with those kinds of wounds and had been very glad that Severus was on hand to help. Wixen did tend to heal quite fast but Sirius had been wearing magic dampening shackles.
It had been a joint effort to remove them. They had found some abstract text in the Black library, a potion and a charm later and they had fallen off, speeding up the healing process. Severus had known that keeping the cuts from opening had been the key in the meantime.
“No, I got the shit kicked out of me by the muggle girl guides,” Sirius said sardonically.
Regulus rolled his eyes and tried again. “I suppose that was a stupid question. Seems madness that they’d do that to you when you’d been a member of the Order …”
“Reg, what the fuck am I doing here?” Sirius pushed his empty plate away.
Regulus opened his mouth to answer when Sirius interrupted him. “And where is that beaky twat. He was watching me sleep last night, which was not at all creepy.”
Regulus frowned. “I asked him to watch over you, you had a fever. Severus was instrumental in your healing process, Sirius. You should cut him some slack …”
“Fuck off! If you think I’m grateful to that piece of shit, you’re crazier than the rest of our barmy family,” Sirius said, folding his arms over his chest. “And what about the harpy and the gargoyle?”
Regulus startled, he swallowed deeply. “Well,” he began.
“Mummy and Daddy fucked off to France have they? Hiding in the chateau so they don’t have to deal with all the fucked up shit they left behind? The murders and the fucking devestation? ‘Open up a bottle of Merlot and light me a Gauloise, would you, Orion?’” Sirius sneered in disgust.
“They’re dead,” Regulus said simply.
Sirius' head whipped comically to Regulus. “What?”
“Murdered, by the Dark Lord …”
“Don’t call him that, Reg! He’s no dark fucking lord!” Sirius raged. “What do you mean, murdered? They were on his side, there was no way they defected! They were financing him! What do you fucking mean, Reg?”
Regulus erratically wiped an errant tear from his face. “He fooled us all. He killed our parents, Uncle Cygnus, and Aunt Druella, the Notts, the Lestranges, the Goyles, the Malfoys, the Prewitts, the Potters … all of the heads of the families …”
Sirius looked around frantically. “Effie and Fleamont are dead?” he whispered.
Regulus nodded. Half angry with Sirius for caring more about the Potters and half sad that his brother was wounded once more.
“It was tactical, Sirius … he was enacting the last section of his plan.”
“They were too powerful,” Sirius said in agreement, wiping his eyes.
Regulus nodded. It was exactly what Severus had said when, in his grief and shock, Regulus couldn’t understand what had happened.
“He cut off the heads of the families …” Sirius mused, a deep frown on his face. “Fuck, when did he do it?”
“The same night, as - as … well, the same night … The Dark– Voldemort had Bellatrix and the Lestrange brothers do some of them, I think. Well, Severus discovered it at first, he had followed Bella to the Malfoys’ and her own parents …”
“Shit, really? She’s worse then? Than before?”
“Much,” Regulus agreed. “She had descended into a spiral of madness so deep, she was torturing people happily - he-he didn't even tell her to. But it amused him, so …”
“Fucking horror show … why, Reggie? Why didn’t you …?” Sirius trailed off, hurt and sadness in his gaze.
Reggie felt deeply ashamed.
“We did, Sirius, we defected. Six months ago, both Severus and I were working –”
“DON’T LIE TO ME, REGULUS!” Sirius shouted, hurling the breakfast tray at the wall. “I saw you in Diagon. You don’t think I know my own brother and the scrawny irritating fucker I knew from school? I saw you in all your Death Eater regalia.”
“We were playing both sides, you fool! You can’t leave if you’ve got the Mark, Sirius! You have to stay, what we were doing was highly dangerous … we were feeding information to Dumbledore —”
“He would have told me!”
Regulus curled his lip and rolled his eyes. “You’re worse than I am.”
“What does that mean?”
“You think Dumbledore has your best interests at heart? That he isn’t capable of causing the same pain?”
“Yes! He was trying to save us, protect everyone!”
Regulus scoffed. “Well, he did a great fucking job of that!”
“HE ISN’T A MURDERING TYRANT, REG!” Sirius raged. “He was constantly battling all the terrible shit your Dark fucking Lord was doing …”
“Severus told Dumbledore about the prophecy three months before it happened. He knew that Voldemort was going after Harry …”
“What! What do you mean? Going after Harry?”
“So he didn’t even tell you that? Merlin. At least we had some knowledge of what was happening.” Regulus laughed humourlessly. It was no use going into it all now. “Dumbledore had information that Voldemort would be going after Harry. Severus wanted them protected. So he went to Dumbledore and promised to feed the Order information. Where do you think all the intel was coming from? All those raids you stopped? All those ministry events that were infiltrated but had heavy security from the Order? That was Severus!”
“No,” Sirius was shaking his head in disbelief.
“Yes! Severus was risking himself daily, but he’s good at his fucking job and Voldemort didn’t suspect him, but I did, and I was already defecting, doing things myself to switch sides. Knowing it was all going so terribly wrong. So, I approached him and we started to work together.”
“Dumbledore would have told us, he would have said if Harry was in danger - he- he told me that I needed to – He just fucking wouldn’t!”
“Sirius, it was Dumbledore that convinced the Ministry to give you life in Azkaban with no trial. He gave that order …”
The blood drained from his face, his eyes wide with shock. “No,” he whispered.
Hating himself, Regulus nodded and accio’d the Prophet. It landed on the bed in front of Sirius.
Heroic leader of the Order of the Phoenix insists that traitor Sirius Black gets life in Azkaban, read the headline.
He left his brother. Knowing he needed to read the story by himself.
It seemed everyone’s eyes needed opening, and Regulus was never afraid of learning the truth.
~
Severus couldn’t understand it. Two days and nothing?
No news. Nothing from his informants. Nothing whispered in the dark spaces no one pleasant would enter.
Nothing in the paper.
Sirius Black for all intents and purposes was in Azkaban.
The Ministry was covering up Black’s escape.
But why?
It was making no sense. And, it was making Severus nervous.
Dumbledore had specifically wanted Black in prison, even after everything Severus had told him about the duel in muggle London.
Of course, nothing that Dumbledore had done in the last six months had made any sense. He had never been the Headmaster’s biggest fan. Finding the man with the twinkling eye, somewhat - fake. He played favourites and he was blind to anyone who didn’t specifically catch his eye.
But Severus had believed that Dumbledore would do the right thing. If anyone was powerful enough to go up against Voldemort, it was Albus Dumbledore. The man who had defeated Grindelwald.
So, Severus had told him about the prophecy. Everything would be okay now that Dumbledore knew Voldemort’s bigger plans. That Albus could see the horror in the future. That Voldemort would happily kill a baby that would be his undoing.
Dumbledore would surely put a stop to it. But he hadn’t, he had done nothing.
There was no big stance, no mighty duel between the two hardened wizards. Dumbledore had just kept asking Severus for intel, which he had provided, believing the Headmaster would save his friend.
That bastard had failed. He had failed and now Severus' beautiful Lily was dead.
Now it was up to Severus to save her son.
Dumbledore was not to be trusted. And he had given Harry to fucking Petunia, that putrid hysterical, beanpole.
Unfortunately, Black was the key. He was the only one who could get through the fucking bloodwards. Severus needed more information. He needed to make sure that Black would be able to walk into that muggle house.
Severus shifted his position lightly. The branch he sat on was like any other, he had moulded himself to the trunk so he didn’t stand out, but the autumn day was quite dim. November wasn’t that cold, not yet, but it was grey and there was moisture in the air.
Privet Drive was a brand new housing estate. In an up and coming area, the houses all conformed to one architectural style. It was a nicer house than Severus had grown up in but he of all people knew looks could be deceiving.
A baby was crying. The sound drilling a hole into his skull.
“Shut that thing up!” Vernon Dursley cursed, his guttural whine loud even through their double glazing. “It will wake up our son!”
Severus had seen Petunia’s fat son. He was huge, like his father. His wailing was no better.
“I’m trying, I’m trying!” Petunia cried, desperately. “He’ll tire himself out eventually.”
“Put him in the cupboard, now!” Vernon snarled.
“Vernon, please … I-I don’t think.”
“No, you don’t think, do you? I’ll do the thinking, thank you very much. That cupboard is the only place that drowns out the sound.”
Severus' rage was nearing full capacity. He wanted to burn the place down. He wanted them to leave the fucking house, so he could just kidnap the baby, but they were always there.
“Petunia, just for an hour, please … it won’t be forever.” Vernon amended. His voice, softer.
Don’t you do it, you rat faced bitch.
But not long after, the sound of the wailing baby faded to a lull and Severus blinked back frustrated tears. A raven didn’t cry so it was a strange sensation. He flapped out his wings in irritation instead.
He needed Black to come and get this baby. But he also needed to ensure that Black was the rightful person to walk through that blood ward. Otherwise they’d all be eviscerated.
Because if Regulus' insane theory was right - Harry wouldn’t automatically be his godfather's son.