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21 January 2012 @ 08:46 am
Unfinished Harry Potter - "Dream"  
A question I had was how in the world Sirius, who was disowned, inherited his family's wealth. This was going to lead up to it. Of course, I had to make it complicated. I tended to like to have all my HP fics meet up nice and seamlessly, which means that the things in this would have lead into me writing a number of other stories to explain, which would lead into others. Who know, eventually I may have had a Black Epic.

Although, this seems to be another story that could be considered finished, even without my grand plans...
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The Ministry office wasn't crowded, and he saw his son, the Auror, the Traitor, standing at a desk flirting with the receptionist. Their eyes met, and he suddenly felt the urge to talk to him, to beg him for help finding his other son. Of all the things he wouldn't stoop to, he was willing to do this to find the boy he loved so much. Just as he took a step forward, the doors burst open and chaos broke loose as a group of Death Eaters burst into the room. Several people, his son included, were floor with hexes. Only a few escaped before the Death Eaters had everyone on the floor without their wands. But not him—he would bow to no one.

Time's up, Old Man,” one of the Death Eaters, the only woman, yelled as she came to stand only a few inches from his face. She whispered, “You should have known this would come, dear Uncle.”

Just over her shoulder, he saw his son remarkably still conscious, peering up from the floor. There was no defeat, confusion, panic in his demeanor; with his eyes glued to the woman and his hand pulling an oddly familiar knife from a boot, he was a predator, a young lion on the hunt.

By all means, I should just gut you and your wife, having raised a pair of traitors the way you did,” the woman was saying. “But being of noble blood, I'm going to be merciful, give you a choice. Either you die here and now, or we come find both you and Walburga, and I'll inflict my own, personal rendition of a Scold's Bridle. Do you know what that is?”

I have a feeling you're going to tell me whether I want to know or not.”

He couldn't see the wicked grin that he knew was on her face. “I'll cut off her hands, in order that she never perform magic again. Her ears will also be removed—who knows who she's been listening to. And her tongue will be ripped out, for all the lies she whispered to her sons. Then, she will watch you become a Bloody Eagle, as she slowly drowns in her own blood.”

A wave of fear coursed through his veins, although he hid it well. “If I allow you to kill me now, you'll leave my wife alone?”

She won't even get a paper cut.”

His son was almost upon a Death Eater now; the man wouldn't pay a bit of heed if he told him no, he had no care for either of his parents. He threw his wand to the side and spread his arms. A flash of green light hit his eyes just as his son pounced...

Sirius woke with a gasp, laying wide-eyed in the dark. He turned his head to see Remus sleeping beside him. Carefully he turned over, putting a hand on his lover's shoulder, and sighed, frowning. Remus shifted, and brown eyes opened to look at him.

“Sirius?” He propped himself up on an elbow. “What's wrong.”

“Nothing,” Sirius said. “I dreamt...” I dreamt I was my father.

“What?”

“I dreamt about my father's death.”

“That was nearly two months ago,” Remus said, running a hand through Sirius' hair. “I knew it bothered you, no matter how you denied it. But I didn't think it would this much...”

“I didn't think it did. When I think about it, I know it shouldn't.” Sirius sighed and took Remus' hand, running his thumb over the back. “...I don't know if it is my father's death that bothers me. It's...”

“It's Regulus.” The subject had been avoided, but it was a big white elephant. It was time to talk, and both knew it.

Quietly, Sirius said, “He was declared legally dead yesterday. That's it. Five months. No body, no reason, nothing.”

“Did they even have a guess?”

“Oh, yes,” Sirius said bitterly. “About half of them tried to tell me that he must have committed suicide. Regulus wouldn't just give up like that, though. The other half told me that he must have decided to cut and run.”

“What do you think?”

“...I think he didn't know what he was getting himself into. I don't know if he ran, or if he tried to tell them that he wasn't going to do what they asked. Either way, he was killed for it. I don't know why he didn't come to me for help, Merlin knows I have been accessory-after-the-fact for him far too many times.”

“...how many?”

“Three. But even once is too many.”

“There was the time he stayed here for the night,” Remus said. “The night I wasn't supposed to come home. But, when else?”

“There was the time I found out he was a Death Eater after chasing him, and I let him go, and another I...”

“Sirius,” Remus said sternly. “What did you do?”

“...I kind of...helped dispose of a body. But it wasn't actually him that killed the guy, I know, because it was too messy. They just made him clean up.”

Sirius!”

“You did almost the same.” Sirius pouted. “That one night. That's the last secret of that sort, I promise.”

Remus watched him with what might have been an unreadable expression. Except Sirius knew that the werewolf was thinking about a set of blood-soaked robes that he'd washed one night when Regulus had come running to Sirius who, in a fit of brotherly affection, agreed to allow him to hide there that night. Because every time Sirius saw him, he thought of how Regulus was just a naïve kid, and he couldn't allow his idiot baby brother to go to Azkaban. Sirius had never intended to get his lover involved; Remus was away on an Order mission, and wasn't supposed to be back for another two days. It was a fairly uncomfortable “morning after.”

Remus gave a heaving sigh. “Fine, alright.” After another moment of silence, he said, “Is there anything I can do to relax you.”

Sirius gave a mischievous smirk. “I think you know what you can do.”



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