Not named Joanne, not capable of spelling favorite with a u, not a world-renowned author who makes more money than I can comprehend. I own nothing. Nothing I say! Nothing!

I'll explain things at the end, so please read the AN.

In the last five years, the moon had become something of a savior to Sirius. There were, of course, the full moon nights with Remus, James, and Peter; those were some of his best memories. That was only once a month, though, and yet the night never ceased to have a pull on him.

As a child, Sirius had been taught to wear masks. There was one for when he spoke to someone "below" himself, one for when he was trying to get something he wanted, one for when he spoke to family. The structure of a well-placed smile had been taught right along history and magic. It had been nearly ten years since he truly was taught such teachings, and yet they remained as much a part of Sirius as his eyes or his hair. Of course, he no longer sneered when faced with a muggleborn, but the masks never left; only evolved. He had mastered the ability laugh at the right times, to flash a grin when it was needed, to act carefree and deliriously happy at any time.

At night was when the masks could come off. And hell, it was exhilarating.

Sirius had tried to explain this to James once, but James was one of those people who were expressive to the point that even a total stranger could tell his mood with just a look at his face. Prongs didn't understand what it was like to have emotions inside that never made it even close to the surface.

Remus was different, because he had taught himself not only to not show his emotions, but not to feel them in the first place.

And all of that was okay, but it meant that neither James nor Remus would ever understand the thrill of the night quite like Sirius did.

That was why he was leaning out of his apartment window at two in the morning with a cigarette between his lips and the freezing November wind in his hair. Even though he was physically, mentally, emotionally, and even magically exhausted, what with his last twenty-four hours. So lost was Sirius in his thoughts that he didn't even notice Regulus limp over and lean against the wall right away. When he did notice, however, he frowned.

"You shouldn't be up."

The younger brother waved a hand lazily. "Couldn't sit still any longer," he said. Sirius nodded and blew a ring of smoke, watching it dissipate into the night air. They were silent for a while, before Regulus let out a breathy laugh.

Sirius looked at him incredulously. "What?" he asked.

Regulus coughed and shook his head. "What do you say in this situation? We haven't spoken in two years, to everyone but you, Andi, and Kreacher I'm a dead man, and I'm in possession of part of the Dark Lord's soul." He shrugged. "You were always the social one. I think I've forgotten how to go about being social, with everything going on."

Sirius was struck then, for the first time in the last day, with how young Reg really was. How young they both really were. Regulus had always been something of an old soul, so it was easy to forget a lot of the time.

He tried to throw his brother a metaphorical bone. Finally, before the silence could go awkward, Sirius just blurted out the first thing that came to mind. "Lily's pregnant."

One of Regulus's eyebrows arched. "That was fast. She and Potter married what, four months ago?"

Sirius snorted and offered Regulus a cigarette, which he took and lit with a snap of his fingers. "That's what Remus and I said, but hey…" Sirius made a gesture with his hand. "I'll be a godfather. Which is really strange, but cool, I think." That was a bit of a lie, because James and Lily's baby made him feel like he was grown up, and Sirius was barely holding himself out of the chasm of adolescence as it was. He was far too likely to do stupid things on a moment's whim to have any part in the raising of a child.

Regulus studied his brother, then his cigarette, then took a drag. When his lungs didn't immediately protest, the former Death Eater left it in his mouth and joined Sirius at the window. "You'll be good at that, I'd imagine. A tough time to be expecting though, is it not?"

"Yeah, but they're nineteen and in love. I don't imagine that they much care," Sirius said thoughtfully.

"Happy birthday, by the way," Regulus said. Sirius nodded. "Why's it that people make such a fuss about being in love?"

Sirius choked. "Merlin above, Reg. You really have forgotten how to have a conversation."

His little brother shrugged and flicked some ash out the window. "I've always wondered, that's all."

"Bloody hell, I don't know. I've never known what the fuss was about either," Sirius said slowly. In hindsight, he should have known that this conversation had no chance of going anywhere normal. "But yeah, James has been in love with Lily for ages, and even when she was routinely hexing him in corridors he thought it was the best thing ever."

"Mulciber got married, you know," Regulus said after some silence spent contemplating Sirius's answer.

"Who would marry him?" Sirius asked incredulously. How they had ended up playing the "who's married/who's pregnant" game was beyond him, but it was considerably better than the usual "who's dead" game that was often played nowadays.

"Some girl from Durmstrang, I believe. If she didn't speak English that would explain a lot," Regulus replied, scrunching up his face like this was a puzzle he had spent a decent amount of time thinking about and had found no answer.

"The Mulcibers had to go all the way to Russia to get Nicky a girl. That's almost sad," Sirius said, chuckling. He hoped she was a hag. "Oh! I've got one. Alice and Frank Longbottom are expecting."

"I don't remember her," Regulus said with a frown. "He's a pureblood."

"Yes, she is too, but she's like a second cousin to the main Prewetts, you know, Gideon, Fabian. Alice was Head Girl when you were a… second year? Maybe?"

Regulus tilted his head to the side, then nodded. "Sounds right. She's short, brown hair, bit of a baby-face?"

"That's her," Sirius confirmed.

"Auror?"

Sirius nodded. Regulus grinned delightedly.

"She's the one who immobilized Snape for a month! He didn't have any bones below his waist, and they had to call me in to find the countercurse, because skele-gro wouldn't do anything."

"Oh, sweet Merlin," Sirius spluttered, laughing. "I'll have to thank her."

"It took me three days to figure out how to undo it." Regulus snickered, then his face went dead serious. "Oh, guess who finally managed to get Cissy pregnant?"

Sirius's jaw dropped. "There's going to be a baby Lucky?"

Regulus nodded seriously. "They were to name me godfather, but now that I'm dead…" He smiled, seemingly pleased. Though if Malfoy II was anything like his father, Sirius thought he could empathize.

He shook his head. "I have to tell James that his kid is going to go to school with Lucky Jr. That'll go well."

Regulus smirked and shook his head bemusedly. A crease formed between his brows. "How come your friends haven't been by, anyway? You and that lot were inseparable in school."

"Remus and Pete are on long-term missions. And James will probably be right pissed with me once I open my floo connection."

There was something in Regulus's answering smile that Sirius couldn't quite place.

"By the way, don't tell anyone that Lily's pregnant. He wasn't supposed to tell me, precisely."

Regulus snorted. "Who would I tell? Andi? Or Kreacher? How about a random muggle on the street?"

Sirius smiled sheepishly. "Right. Keep thinking you're going to disappear."

"Can't walk, an inferius snapped my wand, own a piece of Voldemort's soul, don't particularly want to go anywhere…" Regulus set his smoke in his mouth and counted them out on his good hand. "I'm here for now. Though I keep thinking you're going to kick me out."

Sirius shook his head. "Nah. Honest, I'd forgotten how much fun you could be to have around back when you weren't a prat."

Regulus smiled wryly. "You too."

"I resent that."

"You should."

Sirius half-smiled and leant further out of the window, relishing in the rush that it gave him. "You were a bigger prat."

"I swear Sirius, are we twelve? We had a long conversation about how much of a prat I was," Regulus laughed. Suddenly he looked about fifteen, and yet not at all. Sirius couldn't recall Regulus ever smiling when he was fifteen, but there hadn't been any friendly contact between them at that time. "Remember? It was six hours ago."

"You were a lot easier to insult when you were ten," Sirius said nostalgically, but his smile dropped. That was about the last time they had been anything resembling proper brothers, after all.

"Yeah," Regulus breathed, suddenly looking very world weary and tired. And about thirty.

"You should probably sleep, Reg."

Regulus frowned and scrubbed a hand over his brow, pushing his fringe back. "Probably shouldn't smoke, either, but here I am," he said blithely, waving the almost-out cigarette around before stubbing it on the brick windowsill. "I've worked at night for years, anyway."

Sirius accepted that answer, but he was curious. "Why?"

"Same reason I suspect you're up with me," said Regulus. "Well, not exactly. In school, it was because of a general distain for my classmates. Now, I guess it's just easier for me to think in the dark."

"There's a freedom to it," Sirius mused. "That's what I fight for, you know. My freedom." It sounded selfish to say it out loud, considering he had better things he could fight for. That was what made it worth the while, though. That, and something in his bones that wanted to fight.

"You'll have Potter's child to fight for now, too," Regulus returned and pushed away from the window, then sat himself in front of Sirius's coffee table. "You wouldn't happen to have a silver dagger, would you? I lost mine."

Sirius blinked at the rapid change of topics, then shook his head and decided to write that off as a part of talking to his brother.

"I've got a kitchen knife that Lily made me get so I could look like a functioning adult."

Regulus stared for a moment, then cocked his head to the side in thought. "That will do."

"Do I want to ask why, Reg?" Sirius asked tiredly as he went to rummage in his kitchen cupboards. He found the knife eventually, then in a fit of spontaneity grabbed a bottle of firewhiskey. Sirius figured he'd need it.

"Probably not."

Regulus drew the final rune over his skin with painstaking care, then picked up the ink-coated knife and began the painful process of carving them permanently into his skin. Sirius, who had figured out what he was doing after several minutes of watching Regulus draw around the Dark Mark, put down his bottle of booze and had his wand out to heal the wounds as they appeared. Regulus had been studying the runic sequences necessary to cancel out the spells tied into the mark for a week before his foray into Voldemort's cave, and though he wasn't sure if the Dark Lord knew that he was alive, the thought of having such a connection with the horcrux-making fool was not appealing. A little (lot) of blood was an easy price to pay.

A few hours later, Regulus was feeling faint and Sirius had picked up his alcohol again, but Regulus had a new tattoo that only needed to be sealed magically.

Sirius passed Regulus his wand with a slightly drunken smirk.

"You've got a sleeve, Reg!" he said excitedly. Regulus murmured something in response that didn't make sense to even his own ears and took the wand. He let his head drop back onto the couch and attempted to calm his spinning head.

Sirius, however, was still talking. "We can put you on the bike! That would be wicked! Almost worth all of the blood!"

Regulus looked up and blinked at him, trying momentarily to figure out what bike Sirius was even talking about before giving up and listening in quiet amusement.

A few minutes went by this way before Regulus finally felt coherent enough to mutter the correct incantations with Sirius' wand to seal the runes that he had scribbled on a piece of parchment. The black runes glowed white in the early morning grey light before fading.

Sirius burst out laughing and Regulus looked at him tiredly and let his head sink back onto the couch.

"I can't believe you're a giggly drunk," he muttered. Sirius shook his head.

"Just more expressive," he said brightly.

Regulus shook his head and closed his eyes, trying his hardest to ignore the dull throbbing in his… well, everywhere. It wasn't long before he fell asleep.

February 15, 1977

Regulus pulled his hood up and cloak around himself tighter, trying in vain to dull the chill that always permeated the castle in the winter, especially at night. He could rely on good instincts alone to take him where he needed to be, and his instincts wouldn't be working top notch if he was an ice cube.

He made his way to the library on autopilot, with one hand on his wand and the other stuffed in his pocket, skating along the walls and in the shadows. His mind was wholly on other things.

Regulus froze. Literally.

Someone had body bound him, and that was bad. Teachers couldn't use defensive magic against students unless it was an emergency, and legally, Regulus wasn't doing anything wrong or dangerous. Well, at least not yet. It was only a few seconds before Regulus had forced enough of his magic in between himself and the curse and thrown it off, but whoever was there was near.

A breath's pause, then he was slammed violently into the wall. By a person, which came as a bit of a surprise.

"Forgot you had a wand, there?" drawled Regulus, a bit breathlessly. He had to keep his composure, after all.

"Sometimes muggle methods are more effective," the person returned in the same tone as he tightened his grip. Regulus stared at his brother, who clearly didn't recognize him in the dark and with his cloak on. He wasn't sure how he felt about that as he kicked Sirius hard in the shin. The older brother swore and dropped him, and Regulus dusted himself off.

"You would, wouldn't you, bloodtraitor?" he snarled.

"That's hardly an insult. These days it's practically a term of endearment," Sirius said bitingly. Before Regulus could properly process the movement, Sirius had pulled his hood off.

Silver eyes met charcoal, then Sirius sent a fist at his face.

"Fuck you," he bit out. "You dare to call me traitor!"

Regulus dodged and shoved his brother into the opposite wall.

"Don't mess with things you don't understand," he hissed back angrily, replacing his hood. "I dare call you a great many things, brother." Sirius pushed himself away from the stone and cast a significant glance to Regulus's left forearm.

"I understand enough."

Regulus let out a sharp breath in the effort to control his temper, the turned back to the Slytherin dormitories without another moment. The restricted section could wait.

"Bitter are the wars between brothers," he murmured to himself later that night, under cover of darkness and emerald velvet curtains. It was even colder down in the dungeons. Regulus snorted and squinted at his arm, where he could just make out the still fresh skull-and-serpent. "Fucking poetic."

Sirius awoke slumped in an armchair with a bit of a nasty hangover the next morning. He groaned and, half-asleep, forced himself to the kitchen to get a glass of water, rubbing his stiff neck.

He came back into the living room and froze for a second, blinking at the scene in front of him as memories from the previous two days came flooding into focus, previously hidden by exhaustion and alcohol.

Sirius rubbed his forehead tiredly. "Bloody hell," he murmured, eying the half-empty whiskey bottle next to his chair longingly. "And here I thought I was dreaming all this up."

Deciding to forgo firewhiskey until at least one o'clock in the afternoon, Sirius set about making tea. Before he left the room he shot one final glance over his shoulder at his younger brother to, you know, make sure he was still there and not a alcohol induced delusion. He had heard of some stuff you could buy in Knocturn that did that sort of thing, and it surely wouldn't be the first time someone had tried to slip him something.

Alright, maybe noon could be an acceptable time for firewhiskey. Eleven-thirty, if Regulus was in a difficult mood, which Sirius recalled as being often. Lily would never know, and therefore could not yell at him.

The memories from the minute Kreacher popped into his apartment and successfully upended his life were coming in bursts, most of them quite violent in nature. Sirius wasn't entirely sure if this was firewhiskey or adrenaline caused, though he would suspect the latter, considering he hadn't been that drunk. Sirius Black could hold his liquor, Sirius reminded himself forcefully when his head gave a painful twinge. He was not the type to pass out after three shots, like Peter.

Sirius remembered well the time in the cave, and subsequently after with Andromeda. The twenty-four hours after that, however, were almost gone from his memory. He was pretty sure it involved a lot of blinking at Regulus to make sure he didn't disappear. Or die, a traitorous little voice sounded in his head before being ruthlessly shoved down. That was just a tad too reminiscent of when James had ended up in Mungo's after a thwarted mission last year and Lily and Sirius hadn't left his room for a week. Sirius'… feelings… toward his biological brother were murky at best, as the extreme fondness he had felt toward Regulus when he was growing up had been buried and hidden by nearly seven years of neglect and later dislike, resentfulness, for a brief time downright hate, then settling on… well, ignorance, for lack of a better word. It never left, per say, but in this case absence made the heart grow bitter.

To put it shortly, he was being confronted with feelings that had absolutely no good place in his messily-organized mind. Objectively, Sirius was feeling them, the feelings, but he had never been all that in touch with his mind. Touched in the mind, a few people had said (occasionally Sirius was inclined to agree), but still…

Merlin above, at this rate he was going to need the whiskey in his morning tea.

His other problem was that so far Regulus had been sort of pleasant. Or, at least, the Regulus Black-brand of pleasant, which was far at odds with what Sirius' head was trying to convince him; that Regulus was a Death Eater (former), and a Slytherin ("So?" his conscience, which sounded like Remus, said scathingly), and the source of a good bit of your emotional trauma. That last one, even Sirius could admit, was not even remotely Regulus' fault. That blame was on his parents. Yet, Reg was a reminder of that part of his life, the part that thrummed in his veins and showed itself at the oddest times, the part that Sirius liked to keep locked away and tightly leashed, in Gringotts Vault 711 right next to the goblin-silver that had come with his inheritance from Uncle Alphard.

It was around this time when Sirius noticed he had been standing in his kitchen and staring at the kettle for fifteen minutes. He shook his head and winced, then silently began wishing that he could stomach coffee without gagging, as the caffeine would hardly be unappreciated about now.

And there, as he sat sipping Earl Grey and doing the crossword while his brother slept what Sirius could tell was a fitful sleep against his couch, he felt the masks going back up.

After all, in the last five years, the sunrise, had become something of a darkness to Sirius. He couldn't deal with his reasoning for that right now, though.

Not while the masks were up.

Bella opened the letter that had arrived via midnight-black eagle owl (typical of the Blacks) and smiled gleefully. She had always known, hadn't she, she had warned the Dark Lord that ickle Reggie was much too soft to serve Him. Oh, a brilliant mind, he was, that was for sure. Bella doubted the Dark Lord had ever had a servant so sharp, which was perhaps why He liked Regulus so very much; but no, her baby cousin was far too soft. She had said, hadn't she, that Regulus couldn't take the life of a sparrow, much less something so marginally more complex as a muggle. It will be necessary to have connections in the heads of the old families, Bella, as you well know, her Lord had said. Once Arcturus passes, Regulus will take headship, and I will have the power of Lord Black at my disposal. That is critical.

And so he allowed Regulus to take the mark, and Regulus did great research for Him, as well as became their healer, of a sort. It was a shame, Bella thought, that her cousin would not take a life, for if Sirius' duels were anything to go by, then Regulus' would have been exquisite. The destruction, if he would only have worked with her, become her equal, would have been positively glorious.

Regulus was always far too fond of the blood traitor, however, try as he did to hide it. Both of them, but she must not think of her sister now. Andromeda was lower than the muggles now, as far as Bella was concerned. Oh, the things she could do to that waste of precious blood. Those wastes of precious blood.

It was, unfortunately, a shame that the last of the Black line was ended, but better ended in glory than tarnished in dirty blood.

The Dark Lord had called conference with her and Rodolphus last night, and had said that Regulus was dead, most likely by his own hand. Bella did not need to know how He knew, but she trusted Him above all others. If the Dark Lord said Regulus Arcturus Black had drawn his last breath, then it was so.

Besides, Bella had a new mission. One she was delighted to fulfill, all on her own. It was lucky Regulus had been so weak as to trade in his life, at least for her.

What was a little more Black blood spilled, anyway?

Bella shook herself out of her trance and set the letter on her bedside table, then skipped over to her armoire. Aunt Walburga knew of her son's demise now, it seemed, or at least had seen it on the tapestry. Most unfortunate, Bella had always been fond of her Aunt, she was good with a curse. And, unlike her lesser-willed husband, Aunt Walburga hadn't been so apathetic as let Sirius leave unscathed. Oh, she wished she could have seen it, Regulus had told her once, flatly, that Sirius didn't even scream.

It was always fun when they didn't scream, when it took ever so long for their control to snap…

Bella would need mourning robes, something modest. She flicked her wand at her wardrobe, lining up the black items in front of her. Half of the items were pushed away immediately, and eventually Bella had found something that was somewhat, she grimaced to think it, tasteful. She shuddered, for the collared robe looked like something Cissy would wear.

Cissy would be so proud of her; Bella was sure she was expected by her sister to show up in leather corsets, which she would prefer naturally, but she was not without taste. She would wear her heeled boots, though. Cissy would be sad, Bella realized, though she couldn't for the life of her say why. She and Lucius had been planning to use Regulus as godfather, though, but Narcissa was barely two months along, and surely there were better options out there.

She dug around in the bottom of the armoire for her boots, but her hand brushed cool metal. Curious, Bella pulled out the picture frame and grinned. She opened it and pulled out the photo, where she, Andromeda, Sirius, Regulus, and Narcissa all sat stiffly. Bella must have been eighteen. One slash of her wand later, and Regulus' childish face bore a scarlet X.

"You next, pretty," she murmured with a playful poke.

Author's Notes: Sorry for the long update time, but I was vacationing. I'll keep this brief as possible, but there are a few things I want to say.

1. We're going to go on an adventure down "severe emotional trauma and its long lasting emotional effects" lane in the near future, so stay tuned.

2. I can't help but feel that Sirius is darker here than in most fics. In my head it fits canon. Also, in case you were wondering, my absolute favorite Sirius is actually in BC Daily's Commentarius. You probably weren't, but now you know. While we're playing this game, though, Harry Potter and Deus Ex Machina is an amazing Regulus fic, for like the first half, then he gets a little forgotten during a bunch of Sirius drama.

3. The runic tatoo. I'm anticipating questions on this, so I'm going to lay it out. In JK's world, she never really gets into the nitty-gritty of runes, so the subject, much like Arithmancy, is up to speculation. I thought it would be interesting if the runes themselves held power, and that's where Regulus' tatoo idea came from. The markings are infused with his magic, and act as a sort of countercurse to the protean and other assorted charms associated with the dark mark. It doesn't completely rid him of the effects, however, just, sort of... masks it, for lack of a better word. For example, Regulus will still feel the mark twinge and such occasionally, but Voldemort won't be able to call him, or feel him. As for the runes, I am trying not to make Regulus some sort of all-knowing super genius, but he's smart, okay? Runes are important to old magic, which is Regulus' passion.

4. Lol, Bellatrix Lestrange is my secret favorite character. This was the first time I've written her, and I was giggling the whole time.

Not brief, but if you haven't noticed, I tend to go off on tangents!

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