"Regulus. Arcturus. Black! What in the actual name of damnation were you thinking dragging outsiders here?" That was the least anger and fury and disgust he had heard Sirius address him with since he was maybe eleven. Would he cry? Could he cry? Did he deserve to cry? He didn't deserve anything. He didn't deserve to grieve something that was never his. Sirius was never his. Not really. He was an idea of what could've been if they were allowed to be normal. Regulus was a Black. He would never be allowed normal. So he would play the game of their normal.