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That evening at dinner, Sirius still isn't back.

Regulus hates seeing Sirius at mealtimes, but when he isn't there, he finds himself perpetually glancing back at the Gryffindor table, imagining he feels those grey eyes boring into the back of his head. All he sees are two of his moronic friends, Potter and Pettigrew, one stirring his potatoes morosely and the other looking anxious, trying to make conversation.

Lupin and Snape aren't back yet either.

'Good riddance,' says Avery with his mouth full of blood pudding. 'Be a blessing if they expelled the lot of 'em, don't you think?'

'Yeah,' Regulus says, picking again at the destroyed dinner roll on his plate. 'Definitely.'

*

The night after that, Slughorn invites Regulus to dinner again.

It might seem awkward to be sitting in a teacher's chambers, but Slughorn has ways of making it seem natural. His relaxed conversation makes Regulus feel at-ease and grown up. The candlelight flickers over the elegant meal; Regulus would probably like whatever they're having downstairs better — this reminds him of the lark's tongues his parents serve for parties — but he doesn't want to seem childish, so he pretends to enjoy it.

Slughorn's chambers aren't cramped, but he's set up his dining table in the same room as his spacious, green-sheeted bed. Regulus imagines it's because he likes to go from food to sleep in as few steps as possible.

The wine is making him feel fuzzy-headed and faintly like he needs to piss.

'Oh, I'd almost forgotten!' Slughorn says, dabbing at his mouth with the napkin and rising from his chair. 'I've got something you'd like...' He sits down on the edge of his bed and reaches back behind the headboard; there's a sound of wood sliding on wood, a small door opening. 'Come on, don't be shy.' He pats the bed next to him, and Regulus comes over — dizzy when he stands up. Slughorn's weight sinks into the mattress significantly; Regulus feels like he's sliding down towards him.

Slughorn comes up with a box of chocolates, wrapped in shiny violet paper. 'Gift from a former student of mine, lives in Switzerland these days. If you've only had Honeydukes, you don't know what chocolate is, my boy.'

He picks out one of the sweets, then hesitates, looking at Regulus appraisingly. Then, instead of handing it to him, he does something odd: he passes it over Regulus's lips, watching his reaction. Regulus is starting to feel terribly sleepy, so it doesn't feel as strange as perhaps it might. With a smile, he lets his tongue come out for a lick — the chocolate is good. Slughorn chuckles.

'Ah, this does take me back,' he sighs, patting Regulus's knee, then affectionately caressing his thigh. 'I used to have students for dinner constantly, constantly! But times change. It's been ages since I've had company like this.' He reaches over and moves Regulus's fringe away from his face. 'You have the most interesting eyes. Nothing at all like the other Blacks I know — and I've known a fair few. Must come from the grandmother.'

'They're just brown,' Regulus says. His tongue feels thick.

'Hazel, I should call them.' Slughorn runs his knuckles against Regulus's cheek. 'Classic features, though. No mistaking what stock you come from, is there?' He feeds Regulus the chocolate. It has a raspberry centre.

'You know,' Slughorn says after a moment, as if he hadn't been sure whether he was going to say this, 'I don't mind telling you that there's a strong possibility your brother may be expelled.'

Regulus should be happy to hear that, but instead his gut sinks, chewing unpleasantly on the image of Sirius's wand being snapped before him.

'I'd certainly like to be able to put in a good word for him with the headmaster,' Slughorn goes on. 'But it's difficult, of course, as I barely know the boy. It might be different if he'd ever accepted my dinner invitations...'

When Regulus bites into the next sweet Slughorn offers, he finds it's full of rum, sharp and darkly chocolate-flavoured. He swallows with an effort, and knits his brows.

'You mustn't worry, though,' Slughorn says soothingly, rubbing Regulus's shoulder. 'I'm sure you can persuade him to pay us a visit, and we'll work it all out.' He smiles. 'Come on, then...'

Feeling sleepier than ever, he lets Slughorn guide him to lie face-down in the smooth green sheets, and thick warm hands come up under his shirt, rubbing his back. It's not the first time Slughorn's done this, and Regulus doesn't mind. It feels nice. He can almost forget where he is, half-hypnotised by the rhythm of hands sliding from the waistband of his trousers up to his shoulderblades. He can ignore the strange tension he feels coming down through Slughorn's arms, and the sound of his shallow breathing, oddly quick.

Regulus lets his breath out, the sigh muffled against the mattress. Slughorn pauses, his hands at the top of Regulus's trousers, thumbs rubbing in circles on either side of his spine.

'Much more relaxed now,' Slughorn murmurs.

'Mm-hm...'

And Slughorn gently lifts up Regulus's hips and slides his hand underneath, to the buttons of his trousers. Undoes one. Then the next. There's a tickle against his lower back — Slughorn's moustache, he realises, as the man kisses him there.

With an effort, Regulus gets up on his elbow and twists around sleepily. 'What're you doing?'

They look at each other for a moment, Regulus's eyes falling half shut. Slughorn lets his hip back down, passes his broad palm over Regulus's back where he kissed him.

'Nothing,' he says hoarsely, with a smile. 'Nothing at all.' And then: 'It's getting a bit late. I'm afraid you'll be missed at the dormitory.'

Regulus is very wobbly indeed as he's getting up, rebuttoning his trousers, his face warm-flushed with drink.

As Slughorn holds the door for him, he hesitates and says, 'You won't forget to ask your brother if he'll come to dinner, will you?'

*

Regulus always has a funny sense of where Sirius is, like they're tied together with an invisible string. The pull leads him down to the boys' showers the next day, and as he pushes the door open James Potter is storming out with wet hair, buttoning his shirt; he knocks into Regulus's shoulder as he passes.

'Get out of the way,' Potter snorts, not even seeming to notice who he's hit, and stalks off.

The hot steam contrasting with the rainy cold outside makes Regulus's ears hurt as he goes in. Sirius is under the hissing spray of the shower, scrubbing at his pink-flushed flanks angrily.

'The fuck do you want,' Sirius snarls, not even turning around.

'How's it going?' Regulus says loudly, to be heard over the water.

'You bloody well know how it's going. The whole school knows.' Regulus can hear him forcing his voice down cooler, snide: 'I'm about to be expelled for giving your little friend what was coming to him.'

'Snape's not my friend.' Regulus crosses his arms, flecks of hot water flying against his face, his hair dampening.

'Whatever.' Sirius brings soapy hands down to his cock and balls, washing there. The trail of black hair from his navel is slicked-down wet.

'We miss you at home,' Regulus says, and as soon as it's out he half-hopes it'll be drowned by the water.

Sirius scratches his arse rudely, leaving red fingernail marks. 'You might get me back soon enough. Got a feeling the Potters won't be interested in keeping me about anymore.'

Regulus knows Mum and Dad won't take him back, but he doesn't say that. 'I came down here for a reason, you know.'

'Other than gloating, you mean?' He bends over to wash his feet, and Regulus can see his red bollocks between his pale thighs.

'It's Professor Slughorn,' Regulus says. 'He told me he wants to put in a good word for you.'

Sirius shuts off the water with a clunk that echoes down the plumbing behind the walls. He eyes Regulus hard, dripping water onto the white tile. 'What?'

'Well... you know how he's got Dumbledore's ear. And it involved one of his students and all. He said if you'd just come to dinner with him—'

Sirius rolls his eyes, grabbing a towel and starting to dry off roughly. 'Never quits, does he?'

'He wants us both to come. I'd do it... I mean, if you wanted to, I'd come.'

Sirius chucks him under the chin as he walks over to his pile of clothes, drying his hair with the other hand. 'That's sweet of you, treacle tart.'

Regulus flushes — that's one of Aunt Elladora's names for him. 'I guess you've got a better plan for not being expelled, then, have you?'

He can see plainly in Sirius's eyes that he doesn't. Sirius sighs, pulling on his pants. 'What's he serve at these little dinners of his? Roast rattlesnake? Boiled house-elf heads?'

'The food's pretty good, actually,' Regulus lies.

'Well, how could I turn that down,' Sirius mumbles sarcastically.

Regulus smiles.

*

When the two of them show up at Slughorn's chambers, the professor is grinning so wide Regulus thinks his head might split.

'Now this is what I've been wanting to see,' he chuckles. 'Come in, boys, do come in...'

Sirius drinks heavily all through dinner, putting away the wine as fast as Slughorn can fill his glass, smirking miserably. His talk becomes looser, his eyes brighter, but Slughorn seems unperturbed, keeping up the conversation and pouring again.

'The Wasps haven't a chance this season,' Sirius says, talking with his mouth full. 'They're shit since Bagman left.'

Startled, Regulus glances at Slughorn — but the professor is still smiling merrily.

'Ah yes, Ludo. Taught him too. Hopeless at Potions, I'm afraid. Hopeless at most things, really, apart from Quidditch.' He shakes his head, chuckling. 'Just the other night Regulus and I were saying...' —he leans in to pat Regulus's thigh, and leaves his hand there, rubbing casually— '...there's too little of the old Greek way of education these days. Body and mind, you know.'

Regulus doesn't remember saying anything like that (and the body-and-mind thing seems a bit rich coming from Slughorn), but Sirius is looking at where Slughorn's hand is, eyes interestingly half-lidded.

'Yeah, too right,' Sirius mutters, leaning back in his seat and fingering the stem of his wine glass.

The house-elves bring dessert, a crème brûlé that Regulus really isn't in the mood for after the heavy meal.

'I can't tell you how pleased I am you finally decided to join us,' Slughorn says, putting his arm easily over the back of Regulus's chair.

'I finally had a reason,' Sirius says flatly.

'Indeed,' says Slughorn. 'One of the principles you learn in my House, isn't it, Regulus? Quid pro quo.'

Sirius is twisting the edge of the tablecloth idly between his fingertips, and doesn't answer, a wary look in his eyes.

'I don't suppose you're a virgin,' Slughorn says lazily, running his finger through the crème brûlé and licking it off.

Regulus's eyes go wide. He looks to Sirius with alarm.

'No,' answers Sirius, an intoxicated smile sparking at the edge of his mouth.

'No, you wouldn't be,' Slughorn says. 'You're the bad one, aren't you. The wicked one.'

Regulus looks from one to the other. Surely, he thinks, Sirius is going to stop. To laugh. To tell Slughorn he's out of his damn mind and walk out in a huff.

Sirius does laugh, but it's a low, self-deprecating chuckle. He lowers his gaze, then looks back up at Regulus, eyes gleaming.

'This is what you've been coming up here for? Having it off with this one?' He jerks his head at Slughorn.

'Not at all,' Slughorn interjects calmly. 'What on earth do you take me for?'

Sirius laughs breathily again and finishes the dregs of his wine. 'Well. I've got to take a piss, if you don't mind.'

Slughorn gestures cordially towards the loo, and Sirius pushes himself up out of his chair, his step a little shaky.

'I think this is going splendidly, don't you?' Slughorn murmurs to Regulus, giving him a bristly nuzzle on the cheek. Regulus suddenly feels blindingly stupid for not having guessed what Slughorn wanted Sirius to come here for, but decides the only way to save face is to pretend he knew it all along. His mouth has gone dry, and another sip of wine doesn't help.

The toilet flushes, and Sirius swaggers back into the room, buttoning his trousers ineffectually. Instead of returning to the table, he flops down on Slughorn's bed and pushes off his shoes. 'God, I'm full,' he exhales.

'Why don't you go have a seat with him, Regulus,' Slughorn suggests, pouring himself another drink.

Regulus looks over at his brother lying there gazing at him sideways, arms above his head, cheeks flushed with drink. Some part of him is convinced that this is all a dream, and another part wishes he'd had more wine tonight. He goes over and sits down on the edge of the bed, next to Sirius's knee.

'Now aren't you two lovely together,' Slughorn muses, swirling his glass. 'Hardly worth having one without the other, is it?'

Sirius's hand is sliding up Regulus's side, and then he uses Regulus's shoulder to push himself up into a sitting position. Regulus turns to look, and Sirius's face is very close, and then he presses their mouths together.

'Mm-hm!' Slughorn hums into his drink in happy surprise, and swallows hard. 'You do catch on quickly, don't you?' he breathes, hand to his chest.

Sirius's tongue has the sweet bready taste of wine, and his chin is rough with stubble. The sudden reality of I am kissing my brother sends a tingling shock through Regulus's body, and he pulls away, gripping the mattress with his fingernails, mouth hanging open.

'C'mon,' Sirius murmurs, stroking Regulus's wrist idly with his knuckles. 'You don't want me to be expelled, do you?'

Regulus does, and he doesn't, and his heart is beating very fast.

'You can do it, Mr Black,' Slughorn says carefully from his chair. 'He's younger, you know, you'll have to ease him into it...'

'Yeah,' Sirius says, and he fumbles to undo the top buttons of Regulus's shirt, his eyes filled with that awful wolfish look he used to get when he was about to play a trick. It's hard for his drunken fingers to manage, and after a minute he gives up and pulls Regulus's shirt off his shoulder as far as it'll go, plants a wet kiss there. Regulus's hand is trembling as he starts to undo the buttons himself.

Sirius watches him do that, and his own hand drifts down between his legs — Regulus's mind flits to him in the shower, washing there. Sirius kisses him on the mouth again, and Regulus is acutely aware of Slughorn's intent blue gaze upon them.

When Regulus shrugs out of his shirt, his lips break away from his brother's, and he only gets a flash of narrowed grey eyes before Sirius grabs him by the throat — not hard enough to choke, but hot instinctual fear floods up through his body, and he freezes. (Slughorn tenses in the corner of his eye.) Sirius gives him a rough look and then kisses him bruisingly, holding his throat, and as he pulls Regulus's shirt the rest of the way off with his other hand, Regulus is getting hard.

Sirius shoves him down onto his back and straddles his legs, almost falling over, but managing to steady himself. Regulus is lying uncomfortably on his crumpled shirt, the buttons pressing into his back, but he says nothing, his chest rising and falling rapidly.

'Oh good, very good,' Slughorn says, but Sirius doesn't seem to be listening. He's pulling Regulus's trousers down and giving his body an appraising sneer.

'Well, look at this,' he says, touching the sparse hair on Regulus's chest, running his hand down the trail to the hair above his half-hard cock. 'My little brother's all grown up. You think you're a man now?' And Sirius pulls his shirt off over his head (chest and pale belly stretching), then undoes his own trousers, pushes them down. He starts to stroke himself, and Regulus thinks of that one time after first year when he walked into Sirius's room unannounced and caught just a glimpse of damp red penis in his brother's squeezing hand before Sirius bellowed at him to get out, get out—

And now he's kneeling over him and rubbing himself slowly with his trousers peeled open, his face flushed and lip twisted in what might be the beginnings of disgust. 'This is what you wanted?' he says, slurring his words a bit.

'Let him up,' Slughorn says, and they both turn to look. The professor's hand is under his robes now, obviously stroking — Regulus is shocked, but tries not to show it. 'I would like you both to be naked now,' he explains with a kindly smile.

Sirius looks for a moment like he's going to be angry, but then he gets off Regulus's legs, almost toppling over again. As he's taking off his trousers, he smiles lopsidedly at Regulus with just a hint of an eye-roll, and Regulus feels a strange moment of kinship — both of them toys in someone else's game. Sirius snatches up Regulus's foot pseudo-playfully and takes his shoes off him, then drags his trousers all the way off.

'Finger him,' Slughorn says distinctly, and Sirius looks over, head cocked. 'He wants it. Don't you, Regulus?'

Regulus nods quickly, though he isn't sure what that means — and he thinks Sirius senses that, because he snickers irritatingly as he presses Regulus down onto the bed again. Pushes his knees apart, and another wave of anxiety twists Regulus's stomach.

'Use the— the—' Slughorn points to the bedside table with a trembling hand. Sirius looks, and fumbles there, carelessly knocking over an unlit candlestick; it falls to the floor with a loud clang, and Regulus jerks, his heart racing forward even faster.

It's a bottle of some kind of clearish jelly that Sirius's got. 'You really think he wants this?' he asks lazily — ostensibly to Slughorn, but his eyes never leave Regulus's. He spills some of the stuff out onto his hand, dripping onto the bed.

'Oh, yes,' Slughorn says, seeming delighted that Sirius is playing along. 'Just look at the boy... He's dying for you to touch him.'

Regulus flushes, his fingers clutching nervously at the bed sheets, all too aware of his exposed erection.

'I think so too,' Sirius says, and runs one of his cold-slicked fingers up the crack of Regulus's arse.

Regulus gasps, breathing hard through his open mouth as he cranes his neck up, trying to see what Sirius is doing. He's never been touched there before, and Sirius's fingers feel shockingly good under his bollocks and teasing around his arsehole.

'Dear me, what would your old father think now...' Slughorn's voice is dreamy now. 'What would he say, walking in on this charming scene?'

Sirius grunts in annoyance and shoves two fingers in hard; Regulus lets out a yelp at the sudden pain, but Sirius's other hand is gripping his shoulder, keeping him in place.

'Now, now, be gentle with him,' Slughorn warns. 'He's your brother, teach him well...'

'Sure,' Sirius mumbles, and draws his hand from Regulus's shoulder down to his prick, watching his face for a reaction. And as he strokes him, it starts to feel good — his arsehole squeezing on his brother's fingers — he finds himself arching his back, pressing down against Sirius's hand.

'Ah, he likes that,' comes Slughorn's voice. 'Don't you, Regulus?'

'Yes,' Regulus breathes in spite of himself, and then 'yes' again when Sirius's fingers curl inside him.

'Spread your— Spread his legs wider.' Slughorn's voice quavers, and Sirius's hand leaves Regulus's prick for a moment to push his thighs apart, letting the professor see. He slowly pulls his fingers out, then pushes in again — the feeling of his knuckles popping in and out makes Regulus groan, dragging desperately at the bedsheets. He's so ashamed of himself.

'Now.' Slughorn swallows hard. 'Now... you want to take your brother's virginity, don't you, Sirius?'

Sirius pulls his fingers out and wipes his hand on the sheets, smiling wickedly down at Regulus. He nods. 'Uh-huh.'

Regulus wants to say no, but he's so afraid of what'll happen if he does — and oh god, he's so hard. He's trembling as Sirius strokes more of the lubricant onto his cock, still with that leering smile.

It's happening before he's ready (would he ever have been ready?), Sirius pushing his legs back almost to the point of pain, and oh god, Sirius's prick pressing against his arsehole, and it hurts, it hurts, and he finds himself saying it out loud, 'Oh my god—'

Sirius lets out a laugh that turns into a ragged groan when the head of his cock pops in, and slides in further, stretching him, deeper than his fingers...

'Oh god, stop,' Regulus gasps, but at the same time he's grasping at his brother's arms, holding on, and Sirius snickers again. Slughorn isn't talking anymore, but Regulus can hear his heavy, hitching breathing, still wanking as he watches them.

And then — oh no — it's Sirius's hand on his cock again, stroking with the rhythm that he's screwing him, and Regulus doesn't want to come this way, he doesn't, not with his brother's thumb pressing against the base of his prick, his brother grunting above him—

'I love you,' he hears himself gasp as the inevitable feeling comes washing up between his legs. 'Sirius. I love you—' And Sirius laughs, and Regulus comes helplessly onto his own stomach, eyes shut tight.

As he's finishing, Sirius shoves in hard with a loud groan, and Regulus can't look. He only hears his brother's shuddering breath, feels his hips pressed flush up against him. They stay like that for a long minute until Sirius backs out, and then falls down onto his side, as if finally overcome by drink and orgasm.

Regulus doesn't want to, but he finally turns to look over at the table, and Slughorn is slumped down in his chair, sated and relaxed — Regulus must have missed it when he came.

'Well,' he says eventually. 'It seems your brother is quite spent, Regulus. I hope you'll ensure that he gets back to his dormitory bed safely... I believe he will be returning to classes tomorrow, and will doubtless want some rest.'

*

The next morning at breakfast, Slughorn is exceptionally jovial, eating heartily and telling Dumbledore his best jokes. He glances at Regulus once when he comes in, but doesn't look at him again after that.

Snape is back from the infirmary, sitting alone at the end of the Slytherin table, as far from the High Table as possible. There's a bandage poking out from the sleeve of his robes. Regulus sits down not quite next to him, but near him, not really wanting to sit near the High Table either.

Sirius comes in late, obviously hung over, James Potter talking quietly at his side. A murmur goes up when he appears; probably a lot of people weren't expecting he'd be back. Snape hunches lower over his food, glowering, and Regulus feels an odd sort of sympathy towards him that he never has before.

Sirius and Potter sit down at their regular spot in the middle of the Gryffindor table, and the whole meal, Regulus doesn't feel Sirius's eyes on him once.