Nocturnal Emissions - 2. Who's That Sleeping in my Bed?

#12 Grimmauld Place is bleak and silent, as Sirius regards it from the quiet street with a frown. But when is it not? That alone is not an indicator of the family's presence or lack thereof within. He approaches the house apprehensively. Luckily, being the middle of the night, no one is about to see him, as he slides open the door and steals into the house.

The foyer is completely dark, and not a sound does Sirius hear as he snakes his way up the narrow stairway toward the second floor, where his room is located. He wills his footfalls to silence, as if by the strength of his wishes alone, he can remain undetected. Foolish thought, for if that were true, then he would be able to.... He stifles that line of reasoning quickly, not wishing to be reminded of what he has left behind, not right now. Or who.

So far, luck is with him. He eases open his bedroom door, quietly glides inside, and shuts it noiselessly, breathing a quick prayer of relief as he allows his vision to adjust to the different shades of darkness there, before he makes his way to his large armoire, which sits against one wall. He'll just grab something, anything. And then what? Where will he go then? He can't return to the Pettigrews' house, although he hasn't thought far enough ahead to wonder what they will make of his absence in the morning, or what Remus will do or say to explain it. Perhaps he should spend the night here, in his own bed, hide himself away until he can decide on his next move?

SIrius is startled by a noise behind him, a disembodied cough, and he freezes in place. Surely one of the house elves hasn't chosen this unfortunate time of night for some sort of cleaning ritual. He waits what feels like an eternity before he dares to move, slowing turning around, to discover what he hadn't noticed before—there is a lump in his bed, and his eyes widen at the sight. Regulus! That means that his parents are in the house as well. But what the devil is his brother doing in his bed? He hates him. At least that's the impression he gives off, the attitude he cops in their infrequent encounters.

But what does it matter? He is here, so Sirius has to leave, as quickly as possible. He reaches blindly inside the hulking piece of furniture. He would use his wand to help him see, but it has just occurred to him that he left it behind. Great. He's really been a grade A fuck-up tonight, hasn't he?

"Sirius? Wha-?" He hears the incredulous voice behind him, and he knows the jig is up. Damn. What to do now? He turns once more, half sheepishly, half defiantly, to face down his brother, who is quickly scooting out of the bed toward him. Sirius is completely defenseless, should Regulus decide to hex him. And he knows his parents will back up their younger son in anything he does. Short of murder. Well, maybe even that. Sirius wouldn't want to bank on that either.

But Regulus does not pull his wand. Nor call his parents. He simply stands by his brother, as if he cannot believe he is there, still partially under the influence of Nepenthe, rubbing his eyes as if that will dispel the image of the boy standing before him. "What are you doing here?" he whispers, for once forgetting their enmity.

"I... I just needed some clothes," Sirius says lamely, aware of how poor his excuse sounds, even to himself.

"Clothes? Why? And why aren't you with your friends?" There is more than a hint of suspicion in the voice, and Sirius begins to edge toward the door, holding whatever he’s managed to grab from the armoire. He prays that it’s at least a complete outfit, and that it matches even a little bit.

"Wait a sec!" Regulus holds up his hand, as if to forestall Sirius' exit. "At least take a look at what you've got, for Salalzar's sake." He sounds exasperated as he reaches for his wand, muttering a quick lumos. He points it toward his brother, and bites back a giggle. "You really intend to wear that somewhere, Sirius?"

Sirius looks down at his hands, where he is holding a blue silk pajama top, and a pair of old faded blue jeans with rips in both knees. "Damn," he mutters, not sure which is more embarrassing—these clothes, or his current predicament.

Regulus turns the wand toward Sirius' wardrobe, rummaging through the garments until he finds a pair of tan corduroy pants, and a white button-down blouse—Sirius has all of his T-shirts with him, at the school, of course. But it's better than nothing. "Here," he said. "Siri, what's wrong? Did something happen?" The dark eyes he turns toward his brother are filled with filial concern.

Sirius sighs, tempted to tell his brother, well, if not everything, than something. At one time they’d been so close. But not now. Not since Sirius had entered Hogwarts and was sorted into the "wrong" house. "Had a little misunderstanding," he compromises the truth. That’s too close for comfort as it is. "I just wanted to be alone, that's all..."

"So you came back here?" Regulus frowns, before understanding begins to dawn upon his face. "Oh, you didn't think we'd be here, did you?"

Sirius shakes his head, too dispirited to dissemble. "Why are you in my bed?" he finally asks, having remembered that little bit of information.

"Um... well..." Regulus hems and haws, "I just..." But there is a noise in the hall, and Walburga Black's voice can be heard.

"Regulus, sweetheart, are you talking to someone?" The two brothers hear the knob rattle as it begins to turn. Sirius' eyes turn saucer-sized as he wishes to die right this very minute.

"Just a minute, Mum," Regulus replies, as he frantically waves Sirius toward the window. "Go," he mouths, "I'll cover for you. Hurry!"

Sirius pauses for just a fraction of a second and, without hesitation, hugs his little brother, whispering, "Thanks, Reg," before he heads to the window. Opening it quickly, he shinnies across the roof and to the ground, something he's done many times before, and runs off up the street to consider his next move. All he knows is that he has to get away from this place—the sooner, the better. Get dressed and then take stock of the situation.

Mere seconds after he’s out of sight, there is the pop of an apparation, and Remus Lupin, clutching his cloak about him, his eyes filled with deep concern for the boy he’s chasing after, arrives upon the scene—again, mere seconds too late, although he doesn't realize it yet.