OOM: talking to Sirius (gasp shock amazement)

[no_martyr]

There’s no way Regulus can get out of going home for Christmas hols, as nice as it would be to avoid all the formal dos the season demands. But his mother won’t stand for him not putting in an appearance unless he’s deathly ill, his father has a point about making a good show, and Narcissa will no doubt need a distraction from wedding planning.

Still, it’s going to be odd without Sirius there.

Fortunately, Christmas hols mean he can get a compartment all to himself, and he intends to keep it that way. It’s the work of a few seconds to cast a notice-me-not charm on the door.

Which is why he’s surprised when, an hour or so into the journey back to London, someone pounds on it. He ignores it, but whoever it is knocks again – and then, shock of shocks, Sirius sticks his head in the door. (He must have left a weak spot in the charm without thinking about it; Sirius never wrote back, so he’d assumed he wouldn’t hear anything about the letter. But it hasn’t stopped him hoping.)

“What the bloody hell is this?” Sirius says, waving the now-crumpled letter in his free hand.

“It’s called a letter, Sirius. People use them to convey information to each other in writing.” Regulus pauses, unwilling to say more than that until Sirius comes in – but fully aware of Potter’s thrice-damned invisibility cloak. “Are you alone?”

Sirius scowls, but nods.

“Come in, then. I’m not going to discuss this with half the train while you leave your arse hanging out the door.”

Regulus adds a few more privacy charms to the compartment, and Sirius slips in. He even does Regulus the courtesy of closing the door directly behind him; there’s no room for another person to have come in with him, cloak or no. That doesn’t stop him from scanning for anyone else in the compartment, but it is indeed just the two of them.

“Really, Regulus, it’s like you don’t trust me or something.”

“I know your reputation. I know Potter has an invisibility cloak. I wouldn’t put it past you lot to have come up with other means of sneaking into things you shouldn’t. And we both grew up in the same house. Don’t tell me you wouldn’t check, too.” Regulus puts his wand away, all the better to show he doesn’t mean any harm in this conversation. “Now, you were saying?”

Sirius brandishes the letter again. “What is this? Suddenly you want to talk?”

“Not suddenly, you dolt, I didn’t want to stop talking. But you wouldn’t talk to me, and Mother was... herself, and I decided not to give her the opening to forbid me from talking to you. And then you left me on my own in there, or would have done if Father hadn’t turned out to be fairly sensible.”

“Fine. You got my attention. Talk, then.”

Regulus sighs; he hadn’t expected this to be easy, but he’s pretty sure Sirius is being needlessly obtuse. “I’m sure it’s hard for you to fathom the idea of a rebellion that’s not open, but I intend to play Mother’s game long enough to reach majority. Father won’t let her throw me out as well regardless, and once I have access to the full weight of the title, I’m opening up a third front.”

“What do you need a third front for? Dumbledore’s working on--”

“Dumbledore is a manipulative git who will cheerfully send you to your death if he thinks it’s for the greater good. And all he’s going to do if he wins is restore the status quo. There are problems in the Ministry that a certain someone has convinced people he can fix. I don’t think he can fix them by killing Muggles, but he’s got something to sell that people are buying.”

An uncomfortable silence settles over the pair of them; he almost wishes Sirius had one of his record players with him. The horrid wall of noise he calls music – and that he conned Mother into putting up with because one of the band members apparently went to Hogwarts – would be better than this.

“Doesn’t change the fact that old Snake Face is killing people now,” Sirius finally says. “What do you plan on doing about that?”

“Let other people handle it, of course. I’m no Gryffindor. No doubt you and Potter are looking forward to the challenge.”

“Much to Evans’ chagrin. And Moony’s.” Sirius is grinning like a loon, though.

Regulus snorts. “They’ll have their hands full keeping the two of you from getting yourselves killed.”

“And why your sudden change of heart? Would have thought you were as eager to sign up as the rest of the family.”

“There is no ‘the rest of the family,’ Sirius. Bella’s the only one so far – Mother thinks it would be grand if I did, but she forgets the House of Black has no need to bow to anyone, if we’re doing it right. Andromeda left rather than accept that sort of agenda, Narcissa’s side is wherever she can get the most political leverage and you can bet your bollocks I intend to give her some, you spit on the idea and Father doesn’t need that nonsense. And it’s not a change of heart so much as not letting Bella push me into anything. I’d like to live long enough to enjoy my adulthood.” He doesn’t bother mentioning the dreams. There’s no way to say that without making himself look mad, or making Sirius jealous that he doesn’t get to go to a bar whenever he pleases.

Perhaps if he’d ever bought into the practical side of divination, he could spin it, but it hardly seems worth the effort.

Sirius shifts in his seat, staring out the window for a few moments. “Why do you think Father would bother sending me a Christmas present? He never seemed to care before.”

“Mostly, that’s his story to tell. But – well, he’s put up with Mother longer than either of us.”

“That’s no excuse.”

“No,” Regulus says, “but it is a factor.”

“And one Christmas gift won’t make up for sixteen years of letting Mother call the shots.”

“Nor will one letter make up for six years of us not talking to each other, but it’s a place to start. What will it hurt you to humor him? Humoring me doesn’t appear to have got you hexed.”

Sirius sighs, the way he’s always done when he knows the person he’s talking to is right and doesn’t want to admit it, and goes back to staring out the window. The silence comes back, this time underscored by the sound of the sweets trolley in the corridor rolling right by the notice-me-not charm.

It’s not quite as awkward, at least.

“I should go,” Sirius finally says. “Before James forgets himself and Evans hexes him into next year – it’d be a pity if he got there ahead of schedule.”

“You’d catch up eventually.”

“But I’d have bloody boring hols once I got back from visiting Andy. Can’t say I’ll miss the formal parties, though.”

Regulus rolls his eyes and otherwise ignores the dig – and then, before Sirius actually leaves the compartment, he turns round again.

“Ravenclaw, Reg? Really?”

Regulus can’t quite hold back a grin when his childhood nickname makes its first appearance in years. “Consider how often you had to drag me out of the library and it may begin to make sense.”

“Swot.” Sirius rolls his eyes and leaves the compartment; Regulus takes down the privacy charms, but leaves the notice-me-not up.

That... wasn’t a complete disaster.