"When?"
Lucius's eyes brightened, satisfaction flashing and gone, his tone settling back into elegant composure. "Whenever suits you."
Regulus considered. "Tomorrow morning. Come to Grimmauld Place, we'll go together."
Lucius nodded, crisp. "Good. What time?"
"Nine."
Lucius extended his hand, tone back to its usual reserve, a faint smile at the corner of his mouth. "My thanks."
Regulus took it, his own smile just as faint. "Not at all."
They released hands. Lucius stepped back, tapped his cane lightly against the ground, turned, and walked toward Narcissa.
When he had gone some distance, Regulus stood beneath the yew, watching his back.
The Blacks had mostly departed. Through the gaps between the yews, a dark figure flickered now and then, then vanished. The muffled cracks of Apparition came from beyond the tree wall, the intervals stretching longer.
Narcissa was walking his way, passing Lucius as she came. They exchanged nods without stopping.
Her hem brushed the dead grass. She stopped in front of Regulus, looked at him, then glanced back toward where Lucius had gone.
Her gaze returned to him, carrying worry. Her lips parted, then closed.
She had heard of Greyback. The way that Werewolf operated was enough to unsettle anyone sane.
She knew Regulus had agreed. She also knew he didn't need her worrying, and her worry would never become an obstacle.
She said only, softly, "Be careful."
He looked at her, at ease, and nodded. "Don't worry."
Narcissa stepped forward and embraced him, lightly, just a moment, then let go.
She retreated half a step, gave him a nod, and walked away toward Lucius waiting in the distance. He offered his arm. Her hand settled on it, and the two of them made for Abraxas, then Apparated, vanishing together behind the yews.
Regulus turned and headed for Sirius.
Sirius stood in a gap between the yews, staring at the spot where Lucius and Narcissa had disappeare.
Only when Regulus reached him did he pull his gaze back and fix it on his brother's face. It wasn't friendly.
"What did you two talk about?"
Regulus regarded him calmly and said nothing.
Sirius didn't wait for an answer before firing again. "What could you possibly have to say to someone like that?"
Someone like that. A Malfoy. A Death Eater. Voldemort's lapdog. A Pure-blood aristocrat in beautiful robes, speaking respectable words, with filth on his hands.
The look on Sirius's face went beyond disgust. Minutes ago he'd been bantering with Narcissa, nearly smiling. All of that was gone now.
Things churned behind his grey eyes.
He had watched Regulus walk aside with Lucius like two adults conducting business, and the image had slammed it back into his head: Regulus was still that Black. Still the Black standing on Voldemort's side.
He had nearly forgotten.
But here it was again.
The future he feared, Regulus in black robes standing behind Voldemort, had never gone anywhere.
Regulus read his face and knew what he was thinking.
The old Sirius would have raged, would have said ugly things. This one wasn't shouting. He was asking. Trying to work out what had happened. He no longer opened with how dare you talk to people like that. He was asking about specifics.
Progress.
Holding back the explosion, choosing to think instead of fight when he didn't understand. That was progress.
The relationship had thawed, had grown close. But the warmth lay like a thin layer of snow over the crack beneath. Melt the snow and the crack was still there.
Regulus had no intention of laying down fresh snow for him. Time wasn't that generous.
1974, 1975. The war was closing in, and everyone would have to choose.
Sooner or later Sirius would have to face it: his brother, his family, standing in a different place than he did. Better he saw it clearly early than late.
Sirius couldn't pretend forever that Regulus was only his brother and not the heir of the House of Black.
The thaw was real. The closeness was real. But this fundamental problem sat between them, and it wasn't getting solved anytime soon.
A thing that had to be faced eventually. So let him face it.
Abandon illusions. Prepare for the fight.
Regulus only shook his head and said nothing.
Sirius's expression worsened, his face going fully dark.
A shake of the head meant no explanation was coming. No explanation meant the answer was the one he'd already guessed.
Whatever Regulus had discussed with Malfoy touched the Blacks' position. Touched that circle.
Sirius stared at him for a long while.
Anger in the grey eyes. Helplessness. The suffocation of a man whose head reality was holding underwater.
Regulus's ties to that side had never been cut. All the ease and closeness of these past weeks, those had been real. But Regulus was still Regulus.
Sirius turned and walked away without a word.
Regulus stood where he was, watching him pass beyond the yews, and gave a small shake of his head.
Then he followed, through the wall of trees.
Beyond the reach of the graveyard's Anti-Apparition Charm, Sirius stood on a stretch of dead grass, hands still in his pockets, his back to him.