Chapter Text
In the darkest hour, we see the stars.
Ralph Waldo Emerson
****
Regulus always knew he was cursed.
Not by Voldemort's Mark, burned into his flesh like a brand on livestock. No. This curse ran much deeper into the very fabric of the universe. It had intertwined with his first breath and his first conscious look at the world.
His curse had a name. Thick black hair. Gray eyes the color of a winter sky right before the snow falls.
Siri. Or, in her full name, Siria.
A star meant to guide lost sailors. Instead, Siri burned him from the inside out. She left behind nothing but ash and the smoldering embers of an unhealthy, sinful, entirely wrong attachment.
In childhood, everything had been easier.
Back then, Regulus could reach for Siri without consequence. He would petulantly cling to the hem of her dress, demanding attention. Back then, Siri laughed differently. Easily. Blindly. Without the bitterness that surfaced later. She would indulge him and scoop him up into her arms, completely ignoring Kreacher's displeased grumbling.
"Little limpet," she would call him affectionately. Her voice was so tender, so cooing, that Regulus was ready to become absolutely anything just to hear it again and again.
When Siri turned nine, she began to change. Long limbs. An unruly mane of equally rebellious hair. Eternal scrapes on her knees from climbing trees in the manor's garden. Walburga clutched her heart every time she caught sight of Siri's unpretentious appearance. "How dare you behave like a street urchin! Blacks do not crawl on trees like animals!" But Siri just rolled her eyes and ran off, grabbing Regulus by the hand.
"Run faster before Mother casts a Full Body-Bind," Siri giggled mischievously. And Regulus, gasping for breath and stumbling on his clumsy legs, dutifully followed her.
Always following her.
Like a loyal dog. A shadow. A satellite forever bound by gravity to its sun.
During those nostalgic days of a fading summer, he didn't understand yet.
He didn't understand why his heart hammered so hard when Siri leaned close to his face, carefully fixing the collar of his shirt. He didn't understand why he wanted her to look only at him — him, him, him — and not at stupid books, or her own reflection in the mirror, or the emptiness outside the window.
He wanted it to be just the two of them.
Only Regulus.
Only Siri.
Hidden beneath the shadows of the old oak — their secret spot, away from the strict reprimands of Walburga and Orion — Siria loved to tell him stories about Hogwarts. She was leaving in two years.
"They say the staircases move," Siri whispered, her eyes burning with life. "And the portraits of the past headmasters talk! And there are ghosts! Real ghosts, Reg. And Quidditch. Oh, I'm absolutely going to be a Seeker! Ab-so-lute-ly!"
"What about me?" Regulus forced out, scowling as his voice betrayed him with a waver. "Am I going with you?"
Siri gave him a strange look. Tender and sad at the same time. As if she already foresaw their future and the bitterness of their inevitable separation.
"You're only coming in three years, silly," Siri said condescendingly, ruffling his hair. Regulus winced. He wasn't a baby anymore. But he didn't pull away from her touch. He never pulled away from Siri. "But I'll wait for you. I'll meet you at the dock when the boats bring the first-years. And I'll wave at you. And everyone at Hogwarts will know I have the best brother in the world!"
Regulus pressed his face against her shoulder. He breathed in the scent of lavender the house-elves forced them to wash with. Beneath it, there was a trace of garden flowers and something else. Something elusive. Something that belonged only to her.
His Siri.
"Do you promise?"
"I promise."
But promises, as it turned out, broke just as easily as the monochrome of that bright, orange summer.
****
The world belonging to Regulus and Siri cracked the day the Potters descended upon their manor.
For some reason, Regulus remembered that fateful day more clearly than the night he took the Dark Mark.
July sunlight flooded the hall of the Black manor. The tidal wave of golden light seemed to follow the family of Light wizards wherever they went. The visit was a complete formality. It was one of those obligations ancient pureblood families endured to maintain connections, host lavish receptions, and parade their favorite offspring like thoroughbred horses at an auction.
Orion shook hands with Fleamont. His smile was tight. The Potters were part of the Sacred Twenty-Eight, but they kept their distance from the dark, elite society of manor houses due to their far too liberal worldview.
But then, James walked into the drawing room.
Regulus didn't realize it right away.
That this was the end.
That the world existing solely for the two of them — for Regulus and Siri — was about to tear at the seams and fall to pieces.
James was only a few months older than Siri. Ten years old. But he carried himself with the confidence of a grown man. His messy black hair stuck out in every direction. His round glasses slid down to the tip of his nose, forcing him to constantly push them back up with an unwavering, arrogant smile. A smile utterly incompatible with the prim and proper atmosphere of the Black drawing room.
"Hi," James tossed out casually. His uninterested gaze slid over Regulus before locking onto Siri.
And then Regulus saw it.
The shift in Siri's expression. Her gray eyes widened behind a sweep of long eyelashes. The sensual line of her lips parted in confusion. A faint, barely noticeable blush brushed against her pale cheeks.
Siria never blushed.
Never.
But now...
"Hi," Siri answered uncertainly. It was as if she had suddenly forgotten who she was.
"James Potter," James introduced himself, offering his hand. Siri shook it.
For a long time. Too long. Regulus counted the seconds. Each one felt like a knife twisting under his ribs.
"Siria," Siri replied, her voice flimsy but so incredibly joyous. "But you can just call me Siri!"
No! Regulus wanted to scream. No, no, no. I'm the only one who calls you that. That's my name for you. Mine!
But he stayed silent.
Just as a quiet, obedient, proper son should. Standing there in his perfectly ironed robes and perfectly combed hair.
"Come on, show me the garden." James didn't ask. He stated it like an undeniable fact.
The absolute certainty that Siri would agree.
And she did.
Of course she agreed.
Regulus followed them. Not because he wanted to, but because he simply couldn't stay behind.
He couldn't remain in the stifling drawing room where the adults eagerly discussed current politics, arranged marriages, Ministry intrigues, and the latest high-society scandals.
He had to be near Siri. He couldn't leave her alone with James.
In the garden, James and Siri walked ahead. Regulus trailed behind them like a small shadow no one ever wanted to acknowledge.
James talked about Quidditch. About his dream of becoming a Seeker. About how Fleamont promised to buy him the newest broomstick model if he passed his first-year exams at Hogwarts.
"I want to play too," Siri confessed with timid dreaminess. "As a Seeker! Catching the Snitch while everyone watches from below..."
"You can't," James interrupted her patronizingly, raising an index finger. "Girls don't play Quidditch. I mean, they can, sure, but it's dangerous. You'll get hit and fall off... It's better to just cheer for the team, right?"
Siri's shoulders tensed. Her fists clenched. Regulus knew that expression perfectly well. It was the harbinger of a storm about to crash down on any careless mortal, completely disregarding their blood status or position in society.
But the storm never came.
Instead, Siri let out a strained, awkward laugh.
"Maybe you're right," she mumbled.
Regulus went cold with horror.
This was terribly wrong.
Siri never agreed with anyone. She never backed down. She never let anyone tell her what she could or couldn't do.
But for James, Siri swallowed her words.
For the first time. But far from the last.
They reached the old oak — Regulus and Siri's secret place. James effortlessly swung himself onto the lowest branch.
"Climb up," James told Siri, offering his hand. She clambered after him clumsily, her dress snagging on the bark, stubbornly fighting her way to the top.
"What about me?" Regulus blurted out before he could bite his tongue.
James turned around. He looked down at Regulus without any of the warmth he freely gave Siri.
"You?" James scoffed. "You're too small. You'll fall. Go back to your mother, mama's boy."
The words crashed down on Regulus like heavy boulders from a mountain peak. They shattered something fragile, yet incredibly important, inside him.
Shattered, but not completely. Regulus stared at Siri. He waited in agonizing anticipation for her to climb down. For her to tell James to shut up. To take Regulus by the hand and lead him away, just like she always did when danger threatened him.
But Siri couldn't handle his watery gaze. She silently turned her head away.
"Reg, go inside," Siri dropped quietly, biting her lip. "We... we'll talk later."
That "later" never came.
****
The following years passed in an agonizing blur of torture.
Siri went to Hogwarts and, exactly as James had predicted, was sorted into Gryffindor. Walburga smashed every piece of china in the house. Orion locked himself in his study for three days. And Regulus... Regulus could only cry silently into his pillow at night. Because Siri had betrayed them.
Betrayed the family.
Betrayed... him.
But when Siri returned home for the Christmas holidays, drowning in a red and gold scarf, her hair unevenly hacked off at the chin, and a wide, brazen smile on her lips, Regulus suddenly realized she hadn't betrayed them. She had broken free.
While Regulus remained trapped in the cage of Walburga and Orion's expectations.
"Reg!" Siri burst into his room before anything else. She grabbed him around the waist and spun him across the floor. "Merlin, I missed you so much!"
Recovering from the shock, Regulus hugged her back tightly. He breathed in Siri's scent. Something new was mixed in it. Maybe the smoke from the Hogwarts fireplaces. Or maybe just freedom.
"I missed you too," Regulus whispered into her shoulder.
Siri let him go, holding him at arm's length by the shoulders, and looked him up and down.
"You've grown! You'll catch up to me soon."
"Just you wait," Regulus tried to smile, but it came out crooked.
Siri frowned, her gaze locking intensely onto his face.
"What happened? Is Mother harping on you again?"
"Always," Regulus shrugged listlessly. "But it's worse now. After you... well... got sorted into Gryffindor."
A fleeting shadow of guilt crossed Siri's face.
"I'm sorry," Siri pulled him close again. "I should have known you'd take the heat for both of us..."
"It's fine," Regulus lied. "I'm managing."
They spent that first evening of winter break in the library. Just like the good old days.
Siria talked about Hogwarts. About the professors. About the pranks she and James pulled off. And every single time Siri said his name — James said this, James did that, James came up with this idea — a toxic stinger of fury pierced Regulus's chest. Deeper and deeper. Dissolving him entirely in the feeling of...
Jealousy.
Yes, Regulus was jealous. Jealous of Siri. Jealous of some boy he had only seen a handful of times.
"Do you love him?" Regulus blurted out before he could stop himself.
Siri froze, a book hovering halfway to the shelf.
"What?"
"James. Do you love him?"
Siri turned to him slowly. Her expression was completely unreadable.
"Reg, I'm only eleven. I... I haven't even thought about things like that!"
"But you talk about him constantly."
"Because he's my friend!" Irritation sliced through Siri's tone. "My best friend. Do you understand?"
No. Regulus didn't understand.
Because Siri was his best friend. His only friend. And now she had some James.
****
During Regulus's Sorting Ceremony in the Great Hall, the Sorting Hat didn't hesitate for a single second.
"SLYTHERIN!"
Siri was sitting at the Gryffindor table next to James and a few other students. But when she looked at Regulus, he could read the harsh glint of disappointment in her eyes. Or maybe it was bitter regret.
Regulus couldn't tell for sure.
But that moment became another nail in the coffin of their already fractured relationship.
Besides, they rarely saw each other anyway.
Different houses. Different friends. Different interests.
During her second year, defying all expectations, Siri made the team. She became the Seeker for the lions. Regulus attended every match. He stood apart from the Slytherins, who mercilessly booed her every successful maneuver. Regulus couldn't tear his eyes away from how freely Siri flew. And with that came the bitter realization that he would never achieve that same effortless confidence.
By his own second year, Regulus — already a brilliant student — began to study even harder. He studied until his nose bled. Until black spots danced in his vision. Until the professors had no choice but to pay attention to him. Professor Slughorn even invited him to the Slug Club several years earlier than usual, constantly praising his perfectly brewed potions.
But Siri... Siri didn't notice his success at all. Or she simply pretended not to.
The third year brought a cascade of new changes.
First, Siria grew her hair out. She brewed countless hair-growth potions before achieving the exact length she wanted: wavy, cascading almost down to her waist. Second, Siri stopped wearing boyish clothes. She did, however, order a pair of tailored trousers that Walburga nearly ripped to shreds in front of the entire family during Christmas dinner. Third, Siri became... a woman.
And Regulus, to his absolute horror, started noticing things he shouldn't have noticed.
The slender curve of her neck. The grace in her movements. The delicacy of her thin fingers as she turned the pages of a book in the library. The depth of her gray eyes, harboring an equally deep pain carefully hidden behind a mocking squint.
As he grew older, Regulus realized his feelings for her were something much more than brotherly affection.
He loved her.
Not as a brother. But as a man loves a woman.
And this curse was worse than all the others combined.
****
Of all the curses haunting him to this day — in his golden eighteen years — the Mark on his arm tormented Regulus the most. He had already grown used to the curse of Siri. He had even found a twisted, sick pleasure in it.
Voldemort would likely summon him again soon. That meant putting the perfect mask back on. Pretending to be a devoted servant who believed in blood purity. In the superiority of wizards over Muggles. In all the garbage Walburga had force-fed them since childhood.
But the truth was, Regulus didn't care about Voldemort. He didn't care about the Death Eaters. He didn't care about the war itself.
He had joined their ranks for one single reason: to protect Siri. To be near her, even from the shadows. To leak information to the Order of the Phoenix that could save her life.
So that one day, his star would look at him not as the perfect golden boy, but as an equal.
The sharp crack of Floo powder from the fireplace made him flinch. Regulus straightened up. He listened to the rapid, hammering beat of his own heart.
Siri was back.
Siri stepped into the drawing room, shaking raindrops from her long dark cloak. She pushed the wet strands of hair plastered to her cheeks. Siri looked impossibly exhausted. Too exhausted.
"Reg," Siri looked at him in surprise. "You're here too."
"Where else would I be?" Regulus shrugged, feigning utter indifference. "It's my house too."
"Our house," Siri corrected. She slipped off her cloak and hung it on a hook. "Even if it's cursed."
Siria walked further into the room. She tossed her bag carelessly onto the sofa and collapsed next to it. Regulus remained standing by the window. He absorbed every detail of her appearance. The dark circles under her eyes. The lingering tension in her shoulders. Her lips, chewed raw from nervous habit.
Silly Siri. How could she run herself into the ground like this?
Oblivious to his internal interrogation, Siri kicked off her boots. She pulled her legs up under her and reached into her pocket for a cigarette.
"Since when do you smoke?" Regulus couldn't hold back the biting question.
Siri shot him a dark look from under her eyelashes.
"Since the world got too damn complicated to handle its bullshit without bad habits."
Siri lit the cigarette and took a deep drag. The smoke wrapped around her face like a ghostly veil. Regulus watched her get tangled in that veil. All he could think was that even smoking suited her.
Even out of this filthy Muggle habit, Siri managed to create something painfully alluring.
"How are things at Hogwarts?" Regulus finally asked. He pushed away from the window and stepped closer. "You were there, weren't you?"
"Same as always," Siria scoffed cynically. "The war is bleeding into the castle walls. Dumbledore called me and Moony in to sort out a few issues with the defensive wards. The students are already splitting into factions. The professors barely have enough time to break up the fights and try to maintain some illusion of normalcy."
"And James?"
Regulus didn't want to ask. But he couldn't help himself.
He didn't want to, because Siri flinched as if he had struck her.
He couldn't help it, because he was a total masochist.
"James... James is still in love with Evans. Still entirely blind to anything but her red hair and green eyes."
Raw, unfiltered bitterness bled into Siri's voice. And in that pain, Regulus found his own twisted satisfaction.
James didn't love her.
James was blind.
"Idiot," Regulus muttered.
Siri chuckled. There wasn't a single drop of amusement in the sound.
"Yeah. Idiot. But I'm no better. Ten years, Reg! Ten fucking years I've been in love with a boy who only sees me as his best friend. Just one of the guys around him. It's not even funny anymore. It's pathetic."
Siri crushed the cigarette out on the armrest and leaned back against the sofa, closing her eyes.
"Sometimes I think it would've been easier if I was born a boy. Then everything would at least make sense. Then Walburga wouldn't scream that I'm a disgrace to the family line. Then James wouldn't treat me like... like his damn sister."
Regulus sat down on the edge of the sofa. He maintained a respectful distance, even though his fingers itched to touch her. He just curled them into fists instead.
"You're not a disgrace to our line," Regulus murmured quietly over her. "You... you burn brighter than all of us, Siri."
"Reg..."
"I'm serious. You've always been brighter. Braver. Freer. Everything I ever wanted to be."
Something in Siri's face faltered, contorting into a grimace. She straightened up and turned her entire body toward him. There were only a few pathetic inches left between them.
"Don't say that. You shouldn't want to be anyone else. You... you're perfectly fine just the way you are."
"Like a mama's boy?" The words tore out of Regulus sharper than he intended.
Siri flinched, her eyes widening.
"Merlin, Reg! That was so long ago. I already..."
"You didn't correct him then." Regulus couldn't stop. All those years of silence stubbornly ripped their way out. "When James called me... that, you just... left. You ran after him. You left me completely alone."
"I was eleven!" Siri snapped. A shadow of sheer desperation fell over her face. "Eleven, Regulus! I was a child who, for the very first time in my life, met someone who didn't look at me like a freak or a blank slate! Someone who saw me as... just Siri. Not the Black lady, not the future bride of some pureblood bastard, but just a girl!"
"And me?" Regulus's voice dropped to a barely audible whisper. "Did I not see you as my Siri?"
Siria went dead silent. A hurricane of different emotions reflected in her eyes, but Regulus couldn't grasp a single one of them.
"You... you were my brother, Reg. You always saw me as someone else. Someone completely unattainable."
"Because you are."
The words slipped out before Regulus could swallow them.
"What?"
Regulus stood up. He turned his back to her and dragged a restless hand through his hair.
The Mark burned.
His heart hammered so violently he thought it might break through his ribs.
Just a casual conversation with Siri.
"Forget it."
"Reg..."
"How's your Order?" Regulus forcefully changed the subject, spinning back around. "Is Dumbledore still convinced he can defeat Voldemort with universal kindness and forgiveness?"
Siri frowned, tossing her hair back.
"Don't mock me. The Order is doing everything it can. We..."
"You're losing," Regulus cut her off brutally. "Voldemort is gathering strength. More wizards join him every single day. Even among those you call your so-called 'allies'."
"How do you know that?"
"I know a lot of things, Siri," Regulus laughed grimly. "More than you think."
Drilling him with a heavy stare, Siri finally dared to step closer. She carefully placed a hand on his forearm. Regulus froze. The searing heat of her touch flooded through his entire body.
"Reg. If you know something... If there's any way you can help..."
Regulus stared at her hand resting on his sleeve. Directly over that damned Mark. If Siri only knew what hid beneath the fabric. If she only saw what he had endured for her sake.
"I'm already helping," Regulus exhaled. "You just don't know it."
Siri frowned, trying to read whatever he was so desperately trying to conceal.
"You're speaking in riddles. As usual."
"And you're blind. As usual."
"To what?"
To the fact that I love you.
To the fact that I have always loved you, and only you.
To the fact that I am ready to burn in hell for just a single glance from you.
But out loud, he only offered a clipped response:
"To the fact that the world isn't black and white. Not all Slytherins are dark wizards. Not all Gryffindors are heroes."
Disappointed, Siri let out an irritated sigh. She abruptly dropped his arm and stepped back.
"I know that. Do you really think I can't see the shades of gray?"
"All I see is you following James around like a devoted dog." The sheer bile in his voice could have poisoned the air. "Waiting and begging for the moment he finally notices you and sees you as a woman."
It was a low blow. Regulus knew it. But the agony that had festered for years demanded an exit.
Siri paled with fury, her jaw clamping shut.
"Shut up."
"Why should I? Does the truth hurt your pride that much?"
"Because you have no right to judge me!" Siri's voice jumped an octave, ringing with barely contained rage. "You have no idea what it's like to love someone who doesn't see you! To be near them day after day and know that to him, you're just... just background noise!"
"I have no idea?" Regulus let out a half-crazed laugh. "Do you honestly think I don't know what that feels like? I've spent my entire life trying to reach my star. A star that never even glances in my direction. And you think I don't understand you?"
Tears finally spilled down Siri's cheeks, leaving wet trails on her skin. But for the very first time, they evoked not a single ounce of pity from him.
"You're too cruel," Siri choked out, biting her lip.
"I'm honest. For the first time in years, I am completely honest with you. And yes, it is cruel. Because let me open your eyes, Siri — the truth is always cruel."
Regulus abruptly turned on his heel and headed for the door.
"Where are you going?" Siri's voice was hoarse with tears.
"Far away from you. Because if I stay a minute longer, I'm going to do something I'll regret."
Or something he wouldn't regret. And that was the most terrifying thought of all.
Regulus walked out of the drawing room and climbed the stairs to his bedroom. He slammed the door shut and leaned his back against the heavy wood, briefly closing his leaden eyelids.
Maybe everything was exactly the way it was always meant to be.
Maybe this was just his life.
Maybe some stars were created only to be looked at from afar. Desired, but never reached.
Drained of everything, Regulus sank onto the edge of his bed. He buried his face in his hands. And for the first time in years, he allowed himself to do the one thing he swore he never would.
He cried.
Because for the first time, Regulus clearly and sharply realized that Siri would never be his. Not the way he wanted her. Not the way he dreamed about her every single night, waking up in a cold sweat with her name on his lips and a burning ache in his chest.
Siri would love James. Siri would wait for James for years and keep on hoping.
And Regulus would do the only thing he knew how to do. He would love Siri from his shadows and burn away, expecting absolutely nothing in return.
Because that was his fate. His sole purpose.
He was Regulus. The heart of the Lion. A dim, fading star next to the blinding brilliance of Sirius.
And Regulus would never shine as brightly as she did.