SECOND CHANCE

This story is my birthday present for Milva

He knelt, his ankles lashed to the rings in the floor and his wrists fastened to the wall. His legs were set wide apart and he kept his head lowered, dark curly hair hiding his face. I stalled for a moment, in surprise. I'd never seen his hair like that before - our mother had never allowed him to have it that long, considered it utterly improper for a Black to have 'ringlets'. I had stopped listening to her when I was, like, twelve, but Regulus was a different matter, ready to please her in everything, a neat haircut and hair-straightening charms including.

I wondered if he'd quit being her good little boy in the end or if his hair had just grown long while he was in prison.

I hadn't known when he was arrested. I heard he was on the opposite side but it was not my concern then, or so I thought. My family disowned me, what else? But it turned out nothing was so simple. And I could resent having to prove myself, showing once more where my true loyalty was - but it was not like I could do anything about it.

And he... he was my brother, after all. My responsibility, as Dumbledore said. I never cared much for him, he was annoying as a child and later I didn't know him at all. But if the choice was *that* - or seeing him die...

Our mother was dead; two of my cousins were dead, I had witnessed their execution, both Narcissa and Bella dying next to their husbands. And Regulus was my only family now, wasn't he?

He didn't move when my claws clattered on the floor. He looked tired, his shoulders stooped - most likely, he had to wait as long as I waited - so his knees must've been pretty bruised by now but there was no way he could change his position.

And he didn't know what was going to happen. And I couldn't explain to him.

He looked skinny - long-limbed and thin; four year ago when I'd seen him last time, he still looked very much like a child, even though he was seventeen. Now it seemed he'd gained height but not weight, with his ribs and the line of vertebrae clearly outlined. Even his hands were long and thin, bony fingers clasped tightly on the rings in the wall.

I had never seen him naked before, even when we were boys. Ours was a prudish family, never being undressed in front of each other. I remembered seeing James, Remus and Peter naked countless times, at Hogwarts, but not my own brother.

Especially not like that - with his cock hanging limply between his legs and the small circle of his anus that I could see because he had to keep his knees spread so widely. This thought made me faintly sick.

"You don't have to do it," I remembered James say, an hour ago, as he'd sat with me in the waiting room. His eyes behind the round glasses were concerned and a little angry, on my behalf, and I pretended not to notice it, trying to keep my hands steady as I lit another cigarette. "Sirius, listen to me. I'll push all the buttons and no one will say another word about you being a Black. They don't have the right to treat you like that just because of your name."

"It's not about me," I muttered, feeling like throwing up and smashing something at the same time. "It's about Reg."

Reg. At that moment I hated him quite all right - for starting all that, for getting me into it - it was all his fault, shouldn't have joined the Death Eaters, shouldn't have got himself caught...

"It was his decision to join those murderers." James said, as if reading my thoughts - only his insight was not what I wanted at all. "He can pay for it. There is no reason why *you* should suffer."

"But he'll be dead then." And the cigarette tasted like burnt pasteboard in my mouth.

Then I still could have turned back. But now it was too late, now I couldn't change my mind - without implicating myself, without showing what would be considered an unforgivable weakness. I had agreed; now I could have what I paid for. Only I would have given almost anything not to have it.

I didn't deceive myself - I knew before there were humiliating and strange punishments there. But I always thought it was right, the time was such that it needed extreme measures. It was right - as long as I was not a part of it.

I sighed. The sound was too loud in silence, and Regulus raised his head, looking back over his shoulder. His face had changed too - round cheeks gone, and he looked almost gaunt, pale and unshaven, his big mouth pressed in a tight, sad line. But one thing about him didn't change - and I wished it had, I hoped it would. His eyes - big, wide and dark - looking at me with the same silent wonder that I knew so well - as if I were a mystery he would like to solve.

How could it be? He'd been hanging around with those bastards, got arrested in the dark robes and the mask, had the skull mark on his arm. Maybe it would have been me in chains and waiting for execution now should his Master have won, should Dumbledore and Flamel have not killed him. How dared he look so innocent - so naive? So naive as he'd always been and it always made me want to break his toys and tear his collection of chocolate frog cards.

I growled, with a quiet, guttural sound. My upper lip rose, showing the teeth, and Regulus' gaze froze, his face going blank with fear. I saw him clench the rings even tighter, his knuckles white.

What did he think was going to happen? They didn't tell him, I knew it, a factor of surprise, as they said. And knowing Regulus, I knew he couldn't even guess. He could never guess anything, just like with all those pranks I had played on him, every one of them being something totally unexpected for him. Unless he'd become a lot smarter during the past years. But I didn't think so.

And somehow it made things even worse.

He was not motionless any more, trying to shrink away from me as I approached him, pulling on his wrists to free his hands. His arms and shoulders strained in effort but it was futile, of course, the binds held. I saw his stare get wilder, the stare of a frightened rabbit, pupils huge, and then he started talking, his voice high-pitched and panicky.

"What? What do you want?"

So much like Regulus: talking to a dog as if it could answer him.

The last time he'd spoken to me was in the beginning of my seventh year. I had just spent the summer with James and come up to Regulus at the Sorting Feast, asked something about how our mother had taken my departure, as a matter of joke. And he answered, in a wooden, loud voice, for all the Slytherins to hear:

"Never talk to me again, traitor."

And my cousin Narcissa giggled and turned away, and my cousin Bellatrix looked at me with her lazy, dark eyes... Both dead now.

And now he was asking me this stupid 'what?' - and looked at me with his unhappy, frightened eyes and kept wrenching his hands as if it was possible to free them. I didn't know what he actually thought I could do to him. He always was kind of wary of dogs.

I could smell fear on his body. Fear and tiredness and a lot of pain. There had been other punishments, before this one, I knew it, could see purple lines of broken vessels left by a prolonged Cruciatus - and bruises, on his ribs, back and belly, the Aurors must've vented their anger on him from time to time. There were other, older marks of the binds on his arms and legs, red and imprinted deeply into his skin.

But these traces would be gone, I reminded myself, unlike the sign of his complete disgrace - the Dark Mark.

So who was the real traitor, Regulus?

He was lucky they hadn't proved he'd actually *done* something: neither tortured, nor raped, nor killed. Just was making a crowd with other poor sods like him. But the decision was to scorch the contamination from our society, with fire and sword, as Dumbledore said in his latest speech. For it not to happen ever again. To make the future of our children safe. And he was right. I thought of the little Harry, my godson. He would never wake up to see his parents dying, to see a green flash of Avada Kedavra aimed at him - as it had happened to other children.

And the little Draco, Narcissa's child, would be much happier in Andromeda's family than he would have been with his parents-murderers.

Dumbledore was right. Everyone with the Dark Mark had to pay. And if my own brother was a fool enough to get into it...

He stopped babbling finally - just his chest was heaving, ribs rising and falling wildly - and he bit his lip, gnawed on it, rather. I remembered this habit so well. Sometimes he'd chewed his lip bloody when being afraid, for example if he broke something and our mother was after him. He was more afraid of her anger at sixteen than I was at eight.

It didn't matter now, I reminded myself. She was dead, she was the past, and I had to deal with the present. I was doing it for him. For Regulus. Even if he didn't deserve it.

My foolish brother... the frightened fool with his legs set apart obscenely, exposed for me like some kind of sacrifice, convenient to take. And I could feel his smell, his intimate smell, sweat under his balls and in his groin and he was so frightened the smell got sharper, and I could see his buttocks try to clench, his anus tightening, and this sight suddenly made me think of it clenching on my prick and it was... intoxicating.

A part of me wanted to do it. A part of me wanted to punish him. For being such a fool, for getting himself into this situation. For getting me into it.

"It's your decision, Sirius," I remembered Lily say - talking to me even though her gaze was on Harry giggling on her lap. "But are you sure you can handle it? Or live with it later?"

I shrugged then. It was easy for her to ask, surrounded by her domestic bliss. And from my family I had only an empty house full of crazy portraits and one mad house elf.

And one brother who either had to die or to become my 'responsibility'.

My brother who was trembling now as he could feel my hot breath on his skin.

And I could feel that he was cold and his body ached and he was afraid and something in him was broken, if there ever was anything to break. Regulus was weak - I always despised him for it. And his weakness was what brought both of us here.

His eyes were desperate, staring at me - and for a moment it seemed to me, because of his terribly intense look, that he recognized me, I didn't know how, maybe by my eyes.

"Go away," he said, his lips white, and there was almost no sound in his voice.

I didn't want to listen to such stupid things; had to stop listening if I wanted to proceed. I sniffed between his legs.

He jerked so hard the binds would've probably snapped if they hadn't been magical - and like that I knew he only hurt his wrists. There was an expression of utter disgust and horror on his face - and no, he hadn't recognized me, it was just an odd moment, he was too much a fool to guess something.

"Go away," he muttered, like a mechanical doll. He pulled again, as if trying to withdraw his private parts from my reach. "Leave me alone."

I growled - and felt him go still. A fool he might be but even he could get a message - any further motion would get him in trouble. I needed him to be quiet. It would be difficult as it was, I knew it, but with him thrashing it would be nearly impossible. What, would I have to tear him open if he resisted?

"Leave me alone, you stupid dog. Leave me alone." Now he was whispering, the words nearly inaudible but falling from his lips unceasingly, and I didn't even know if he realized it. His childish, frightened whisper annoyed and distracted me. So I focused on his smell instead - the smell of fear, of accessibility. It was... exciting.

I licked his anus. I did it for his sake - there was not much I could do for him, but I was willing to do as much as possible. He would be grateful to me for it in the end - even if now he shuddered hugely and tried to get away from me. I put my paws on his legs and growled again, and his breath got hasty and shallow, like he was suffocating - but he didn't stop looking at me over his shoulder - as if not looking scared him even more.

I licked again, and licked some more, his taste salty and slightly bitter, and he groaned, not a sound of pleasure but of helplessness, like he just couldn't keep silent, and I pushed my muzzle between his buttocks, trying to shove my tongue in, to loosen him at least a little.

I didn't even know if he'd done it before, with a man, I mean. Come to that, I didn't know anything about him - whom did he date, what was he going to do with his life, did he still like to make ship models, as before? The only thing I knew was that he brilliantly ruined his life, and now he was getting punished for that, with his brother-Animagus buying his life by raping him.

Another shudder went through his body, and the smell changed a little, another adding to it. Regulus' cock was not limp any more but half-hard.

I looked at him and had time to see mortification pass over his face before he quickly looked away, lowered his head.

Somehow I was glad to see it - to see his arousal. He'd pay less attention to pain then, and I didn't want to hurt him more than necessary, I really didn't. But at the same time I knew he'd rather be in agony than be aroused... by a dog.

Yet I didn't leave him, licking his balls, and he shivered, his legs striving to press together - but of course he couldn't, and his erection didn't fall.

Stupid Regulus... stupid brother, see what you got yourself into?

He didn't look at me any more and he didn't say anything. I could only see his chest rise, very-very fast - but his expression was imprinted into my mind, the haunted, disbelieving look as if he couldn't accept something like this was happening to him.

I thought about it when mounting him.

He jerked violently; as if to the very last moment he still imagined something else could happen, not *that*.

"Oh God," I heard him say, "please... please no."

God. He should've prayed earlier. Before he committed his crime. He couldn't be spared now, I was doing everything I could, I was saving his life. And his wet, very hot anus was against the tip of my cock, and I couldn't wait any more.

I thrust in.

So tight. So tight that it was hurting me, it was killing me, and I wanted more of it, I snarled not caring if I scared him. I cared for nothing now - neither for him being hurt, nor for him being my brother - but only for his hole being the sweetest and tightest I'd ever entered in my life.

He wasn't my brother at this moment, he was my bitch.

I thrust in and in, straining, my paws on his shoulders, claws scratching his arms, and he was making small sounds, probably afraid to make more noise, despite the pain. But it was the point of it, to hurt him, wasn't it? To teach him a lesson, to punish him, so that he didn't repeat his mistakes.

"You also need a lesson, Sirius," I remembered Dumbledore say, his voice almost gentle but his eyes having the same empty, strange look that was in them ever since Voldemort's death - as if his eyes were made of blue mica. "You think that second chances come easily. But they do not."

I wondered if he'd meant the Shrieking Shack, that I had never been punished for that, because of Remus. Dumbledore had been so angry with me for it then, for his precious Snape, Snape who also was a Death Eater but never paid for it, a double agent and everything...

So, it might have been a punishment for me as well, what I had to do to my brother. But I hadn't known it would be like this. I didn't expect to take such pleasure in it.

Regulus' arousal was gone. I half-regretted it but at the same time I didn't care, couldn't care for anything but the tightness of his hole around my cock, the heat of his body under me. His head dropped, his hair nearly touching the floor - and he was holding my weight on himself, he had no choice - and I worked and worked my hind legs, sliding in and out of him.

Poor Regulus, stupid Regulus, I didn't want to do it, but I have to, I have to... you'll live thanks to me, I'm buying your life, my God, how tight you are, why are you breathing like this, are you hurt, are you hurt, I know you are but I can't help it, I can't stop, I can't stop, I don't want to...

And his body was burning hot around me, the smell of his sweat intoxicating, his muscles trembling under my paws. I slammed into him, deeper and deeper, and then there was just one thing that mattered, achingly near, and I had to reach for it, to batter it out of him, at any price.

And finally it was there, heat and shiver, and almost pain shooting through me, and I whined with unbearable intensity of it, coming, coming...

It was over. My cock was still inside him, still clenched tightly by the walls of his rectum, and I was still leaning heavily onto him. But now I felt so tired. I felt empty; nearly floating, pleasure still a phantom sensation inside me but already fading.

I couldn't leave. A dog thing. Our bodies were locked - so, I stayed as I was, my paws still on his shoulders. I didn't know what to do if he tried to get free - I hoped he wouldn't try.

I could see blood on his arms where I scratched him with my claws - and could smell more blood below, mixed with my own come, leaking out of him. And there was something terribly real in it - now when my mind was not fogged any more, now when the deed was done.

I had fucked my brother. It was the thing I had tried not to think about, not to focus on. But now it was there and I knew I would never forget it.

He didn't try to get away. He didn't even move, very quiet under me, and only his breath was hasty and odd, little gasps resounding through his body - too much like sobs to be anything else. And the salty smell I could feel, coming from his turned away face, was the smell of tears. Regulus was crying.

He was punished enough, wasn't he?

"There is only one thing that can't be mended," I remembered Nicholas Flamel's calm, quiet voice - every word hammering into my mind despite the soft tone. "It is death. Everything else can be repaired. So appreciate the chance that is given to you to save your brother's life."

Finally I felt the knot go down - and then I moved, withdrawing from him. There was more blood leaking over his legs, and I tried not to look there. I didn't do anything else, didn't lick him - I knew he wouldn't take it as comfort, would take it just as more torment.

It was over; now I could get away from here.

He raised his head when I was almost at the door - I felt it and looked back. His face was pale and streaked with tears, his eyelashes sticky. And yet he looked at me, with those wide, wondering eyes, as if there was something there that didn't stop fascinating him.

And that made me want to howl.

An hour later he was brought to the room where I waited, two Aurors behind him. His eyes were still puffy and he looked like he was totally exhausted. He stumbled a little on the threshold when one of the Aurors pushed him forward. I stood up and felt James' pacifying hand on my elbow.

"Sirius," he said quietly, "don't."

He was right; I didn't need to get in trouble.

Regulus' dazed eyes found me, widening in surprise, getting that vulnerable, innocent look that I hated so much.

"Sirius?" he said as if he expected to see anyone but me.

"Yeah," I said, grinning, my voice suddenly hoarse - must've been all those cigarettes I'd smoked, "one and only."

"Sirius," he repeated, and I recalled the same voice begging faintly a short while ago: "No, go away, leave me alone, please..."

He made a step towards me and then his legs seemed to give because he was falling, and I caught him, his body feverish hot against mine. He was taller than me, I thought with surprise, my little brother was taller than me.

He shivered when I hugged him but didn't try to pull away. On the contrary, he wrapped his arms around me tightly, not letting me go - and it was like he didn't care if anyone else was there, James or the Aurors. His hands clenched on my robe, his forehead pressing to my shoulder, his face hidden.

"Please," he whispered, holding onto me. "Can we go home now?"

"Of course," I said. "We're going home. Where else?"

THE END