Of Truths

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The w00t Girl: No worries! This story *does* have a happy ending! Thank you for the review!

ShiTiger: I'm glad you liked it! I'm sorry it took me so long to update!

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Of Truths

Chapter 2: Seduction?

Darius inspected his reflection in his mirror on his dresser, trying to form the most attractive glances he could muster without laughing at himself. The want to go to bed, of course, was nothing more than a lie to get himself away from Remus before he did something completely stupid. And to probably start getting himself ready for the first phase of his plan: seduction.

Needless to say, seduction was definitely not his forte. He had never even come close to seducing anyone in his life, but he had watched the best at work: Bellatrix, Lucius, and of course, Sirius himself. Darius snorted at that and mused how his cousin's constant flirting would be his downfall. Of course, after Sirius' little tantrum earlier, he had to tone it down to a near minimal or the man wouldn't even look him in the face. Not that he did much at this point, but it would still be no good.

He froze suddenly on one awkward expression when he heard the front door close, which most likely was Remus leaving, and then the heavy footsteps of Sirius on his way to the kitchen. He couldn't help but grin at himself. Things were going perfectly. Far too perfectly. At this rate something awful was surely going to happen on his behalf, and, just maybe, he deserved it. The smile fell from his face, and he looked up at his reflection almost guiltily.

No, no, a voice in his mind echoed, you have to be as confident as ever, no guilt. What have you done to Sirius that you should be guilty about?

It's more of what I'm *about* to do, Darius thought bitterly, heaving a sigh. But he decided that the voice was right, to a point. He needed to have the upmost confidence in himself and his abilities. And Sirius did deserve it, didn't he? At nine he knew that if Sirius was around, and even more smiling, nothing positive would come from it, only for Sirius and his friends. These thoughts gave him a bit more strength and he smiled at himself and tried to neaten his hair as best he could.

He waited a good ten minutes before he made his way down to the kitchen, or until he was sure he looked proper, for lack of a better word. Downstairs was dark, and he only prayed that Sirius was actually in the kitchen and not elsewhere to pop up and scare him senseless, or something worse. This had to be done without any flaws, or everything he had done for this would be for naught. He swallowed down a sigh of relief when he saw a thin slice of dull light streaming from the ajar door of the kitchen. He gave himself a last check over before sucking in a deep breath through his teeth and slowly pushing open the door.

Sirius was in mid-sip of a bottle of liquor when Darius opened the door. The fact that Sirius was drunk drove him on, and he did not falter when a death glare was sent direction. He simply smiled and made his way to the stove where Mrs. Weasley's food still sat.

This will never work, he thought suddenly.

It's too late to back down now either way, the voice in his mind growled.

He tried to move as smooth as he possibly could as he filled his plate and sat across Sirius at the table. To gain the other man's interest, he crossed his legs and let his foot brush against Sirius' knee, praying that that wasn't taking it a step too far.

Sirius flinched and glared up at his cousin accusingly. He opened his mouth to demand him to move away, but was struck silent by the way Darius simply let his eyes slide up toward him, a move the younger had learned from Bellatrix. Sirius snorted and settled for a sneer that lacked a great deal of conviction.

It was becoming increasingly hard for Darius to hold back the shock that forced to break through at how he was able to silence his cousin with the slightest movement of his eyes. He noticed Sirius' hand twitch when his tongue slid around his fork sensually, and nearly cried out "Merlin's balls!" at the look of confusion, disgust, and, to Darius' amazement, arousal that contorted his face. It was actually *working*, for Merlin's sake! As the other man reached to open another bottle, Darius beat him to it and placed his fingers on it.

"You wouldn't mind if I had this, would you?" He had uttered those words lowly, almost barely. He personally thought that it wasn't a very powerful request, but he had witnessed Lucius use it many times and had worked all occasions. When he spoke, his voice was smooth and suave, much like Lucius'.

Darius thought he had succeeded, but then Sirius gave another toothy sneer. "What the *hell* do you think you're doing, Ulrike?" Darius held onto his impassive facade save for a slight cringe at the use of his old name.

"I haven't any idea what you are talking about, Sirius," he stated quietly, now looking Sirius directly in the eye.

Sirius snarled menacingly and stood swiftly, slamming his hands against the table causing dishes and silverware to rattle and a few of the bottles of liquor to topple over with a chorus of clinks. "You know *exactly* what I am talking about!" he hissed. As Sirius towered over the younger, Darius' guise shattered to pieces, broken by his childish fear of his cousin. Although they were a good distance from each other, when Sirius poised his arm to strike, Darius shut his eyes and braced himself for the hit.

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Darius woke suddenly, warm and drowsy, yet still terribly shaken up by the dream—nightmare actually—that he had departed. He wanted to laugh when he discovered that it was nothing more than a dream and in reality was still dressed in his clothing from the evening before and was face-down on his bed. He did not fret over that then, however, and desperately tried to will himself back to sleep, hopefully not to be greeted with the ending of that nightmare, but his body failed to acknowledge the commands, and soon he found himself pulling back the curtains to the morning sun and beginning to dress.

He had a theory as to why he did so, though. Well, he knew exactly why he did so for it had happened plenty of times before. After being a Ministry lapdog for a long period of time, the body tends to remain with the rhythm, knowing very well the consequence of tardiness, even when it doesn't need to move at all. Darius sighed in defeat as his body started to run him through his usual morning routine, his first stop the kitchen.

Although it was probably late morning, the halls of Grimmauld Place were still dark since the muck and grime that coated the windows blocked even the slightest stream of light. Darius looked up at the familiar floating candles in question and realized that the light they gave off was so greatly dim that it would be near impossible for it to even come close to the crown of his head although they were a few feet above him. He felt sympathy toward Sirius for having to endure this every day. The sudden thought of his cousin refreshed the memory of the dream and left Darius suddenly cold.

"Lumos," he muttered quietly after having pulled out his wand from his back pocket, having forgotten the spell to brighten the candles. The light wasn't the best against the wide halls of Grimmauld Place, but it would do.

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After wandering aimlessly in the dark for what felt like an hour, he finally reached the first floor, perhaps even darker than upstairs. The journey itself wasn't in vain for he had discovered where the portrait of his Aunt was. He had chosen against speaking with her then although he was anxious to hear her voice again, but his instincts told him to hold off until later.

He stumbled slightly after stepping off the last step, clumsiness, he was told, was an awful trait he had gained from his mother from his mother, and lost grip of his wand. He watched in dismay as his wand skittered on the floor, plunging him in pitch black, a small sound of anguish escaping his throat. He stood there dumbly for a while, his weight on his right foot, his left behind and lifted slightly off the ground, his arm outstretched. He saw its faint glow still beneath some kind of object, most likely a desk, and he lunged after it, only to crash into something firm yet covered in cloth.

He let out a squawk of surprise and then tried to move away from it, but his foot hooked around the thing and soon he was falling backward. That is until a strong arm caught him around his upper back. It took Darius a few seconds to realize that there was a faint light gleaming in his face. He blinked a couple of times before being greeted by the face of his cousin in the pale light, looking rather vexed.

"Sirius!"

"What the hell are you doing?" Sirius asked irritated and Darius vaguely remembered the dream. He could only mumble a string of unintelligible sounds in response, his cheeks taking a fine rosy color at their positions. Sirius noticed the blush, but not the reason, and a little less than nicely let him go. As Darius straightened himself out, Sirius retrieved his wand.

"I was going to the kitchen—thank you—" he gratefully accepted his wand, "for breakfast."

Sirius snorted. "There isn't much food in there that you would consider 'breakfast.'

"Then we will have to simply make do, even if that means having Mrs. Weasley's supper," Darius replied with a soft smile, walking into the kitchen.

"*We*?" This was said with a slight smile, the truest smile Darius had seen from Sirius since he'd arrived, and, despite himself, his heart skipped a beat.

"Of course. I'm making breakfast for you, too."

Sirius seated himself at the table, watching his cousin with interest as he raided the cupboards, taking out spices from time to time, opening them to sniff their contents. He actually burst out laughing when Darius let out a loud yell as a horde of spiders spewed from a plastic container he had opened.

In the end, they decided (actually Darius *insisted*, not wanting to go near another container) to have the supper Mrs. Weasley had left for them which consisted of a simple yet hearty onion soup. They were seated and about to eat when Sirius leapt up from the table suddenly.

"What's wrong?" Darius questioned, his voice laced in fear. He lifted his legs up from the floor and scanned beneath the table quickly for any sign of spiders. He had concluded from the incident that he would forever be terribly afraid of spiders. Sirius said nothing but pulled out two bottles of liquor from the fridge as his answer.

Trying to push back the growing feeling of deja vu, Darius said, "*Liquor*? This early in the *morning*?"

Sirius grinned and placed a bottle before Darius. "Well sure. But then again-" he snatched up the bottle before Darius could take it, "I'm sure that you can't handle your liquor."

Darius scowled and hesitated for a moment before snatching the liquor back. "I sure as hell can! Watch." Sirius smirked victoriously and plopped in his chair as he watched the younger down the entire bottle in one sitting, barely taking a breath between gulps. Darius slammed the liquor down on the table and Sirius clapped his hands.

"Impressive."

"Told you."

So the game was on, and soon the soup sat forgotten as the number of empty bottles grew. And it went on in silence. This silence was quite different from others, though. It held absolutely no tension between them. They almost felt comfortable in each other's company. Both paused from drinking at that musing and slowly glanced up at one another. Sirius snorted suddenly and shortly Darius was stifling giggles with the back of his hand. Then they burst into a fit of laughter, Sirius cradling his head with one arm and Darius nearly choking on his liquor.

"Well, this was unexpected . . . " Darius drawled after they had quieted down, leaning back in his chair with a smirk.

"Unexpected?" Sirius replied, cocking his head to the side with his eyebrow raised, tilting his bottle casually.

Darius chuckled. "Fine, fine. This is really fucking *weird*."

They laughed again. This time, however, when the laughter ended, it left a sobering clarity and an awkward silence.

"Darius?" Sirius said in a low voice, watching the liquid in the bottle swirl through the brown glass.

"Hm?"

"I was wondering-" there was a sigh, "did you ever really like me at any point when we were younger?"

Darius was quiet for a moment, childish grin disappearing, before he finally answered, "Yes, actually. Why?"

"When?"

Darius was about to ask why when he noticed the serious expression on the other's face and simply sighed. "Remember that time when you and the others scared the shit out of me with that damned charmed rubber snake in the attic? And then all the crap in there fell on me and I broke my leg?" Sirius winced at the memory but nodded. "That evening when you had to take care of me while Aunt looked for that spell, that was when I really liked you." Sirius glanced at Darius sadly as he smiled almost fondly at the memory, his head down to Sirius.

"So," Darius said jauntily to break the angsty atmosphere, "Did *you* ever like *me* when we were kids?"

Sirius chuckled and said softly, almost to himself, "When you were asleep." He frowned then stood suddenly and muttered an excuse before exiting quickly, leaving a bewildered Darius.

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Darius sat there speechless, trying to make sense of what Sirius had said. He had liked him when he was asleep? Well that made absolutely no sense at all! Unless, of course, if it was meant in a negative way, as in he liked him when he was asleep and out of the way. Darius nodded to himself. Yes, yes, that definitely made more sense since it sounded much like Sirius.

But that did not explain why he had ran out so fast. Or why he ran out at all. The liquor in his system, however, prevented him thinking about it more. Darius sighed and opened another bottle, too intoxicated to think any further.

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Sirius crashed into his door so hard that he toppled onto his back on the dusty carpet. He laid there for quite some time, his breathing erratic, clutching his head as if in pain. Clippings of an unwanted memory swarmed his mind like an angry blaze.

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Flashback

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It was only a mere week until the first term of Sirius' last year at Hogwarts, and yet he still had plenty of homework to finish. As he made his way to the library of Grimmauld Place, he wished he had asked Remus for help earlier, but of course, being too happy to see them it had slipped his mind completely. He smiled to himself. At least he would be seeing them later today, even if that meant they would have to hold off on doing anything fun so he could work on his essays.

He stopped himself from throwing open the door when a groan from inside reached his ears. Was Regulus . . .

A moan.

Bloody hell, Sirius thought with a childish smirk. Just wait until he told James that his brother—his stuck-up, impotent arse of a brother—was having a pleasant little wank in the library. Sirius was already pushing the door slowly ajar at this thought, wanting to get as much embarrassing evidence as he could. Maybe blowing off his essays was a good thing . . .

His smile quickly vanished.

Regulus was indeed inside, and his pants were well beneath his knees, though not alone. And *Merlin* did Sirius wish he was. There, entirely nude below the torso, excluding his shoes, seated in his 'brother's' lap and wrapped in his arms in the most evocative way, was undoubtedly none other than ten-year-old Uldaricus Black. He gasped and arched as he rode Regulus, wrapping his arms tighter around him as Regulus did likewise, a moan escaping his bruised lips.

Sirius' mouth went dry. What in Merlin's name was going on! He watched in horror as Uldaricus rocked his hips against Regulus' haphazard thrusts with all the ease and skill of an experienced whore. It was then that Sirius realized that it was his brother who was making the most noise. Just what had this child been through? The answer was simple enough, really, and Sirius wondered why he had asked it; Uldaricus' mother was a whore, and obviously had taught her son to be as such. Sirius' expression turned disgusted. And here was Regulus, taking advantage of this 'talent' like any Slytherin would do. Was he *that* much of a sick fuck?

He wanted to burst in there and tear Uldaricus away, *save* him. He still didn't like the boy any more than he did before, but his Gryffindor side would not stand for a damned Slytherin to exploit him like that.

If it's so bad, why doesn't Uldaricus just stop? A darker voice in his mind asked.

Because he— Sirius' mind started, but he himself couldn't find a decent reason why. Uldaricus could have simply run to mother, but he didn't. It was as if he was willing to comply to Regulus' foul wants.

Sirius stifled a gasp when their lips crushed against each other, their tongues swiping at anything in a sloppy kiss, leaving their cheeks glossy. Sirius' knees were shaking so hard he was sure he was going to collapse. It was so revolting, vile, nasty, and unbelievably *horrible* to watch, only Sirius couldn't pull himself away. Regulus gave a hoarse cry. Sirius concluded that he was either a virgin . . . or Uldaricus was just that fucking good. He preferred the first.

He—he—

He wanted to know how it felt to be in Uldaricus. He wanted to feel what Regulus felt, having Ulrike's body taking in as much of him as he could. He—he—

*He* was the sick fuck.

He ran then. He couldn't stand it any longer. He had left his school bag there, but he didn't care at all, he just needed to get as far away from that room as virtually possible. He slowed down at the drawing room door, too exhausted to continue any farther. He swung open the door and was greeted by a pair of spectacled green eyes.

"Prongs!"

He hated them so much.

James cocked his eyebrow.

Regulus for being a goddamned, sick fuck of a Slytherin . . .

"What's up Padfoot?"

. . . and Uldaricus for making him want him so much.

"Prongs, mate, do you think your grandparents would mind if I moved in with you?"

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End Flashback

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Why couldn't Azkaban have taken *that* memory? Sirius was close to sobbing, wrapping his arms around him. He wanted to make up with Darius, he really did. He seemed to be the little of his family that still considers him kin, not disgusted to be in the same room with him, but that memory, that horrid, horrid, memory, prevented him. After all the memories Azkaban took, why not that one?

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The alcohol helped Darius brush off the thought a little afterwards and was finishing his fourth bottle when he heard the latch of the front door come undone. A few moments later Remus walked in with a large and apparently heavy basket. He looked startled from what Darius presumed were the bottles of alcohol, and he returned it with a foolish grin, unable to stop himself. The fact that Remus was here pleased him in such a peculiar way he didn't care that he was seeing him in such a vulnerable way as he normally would.

"Darius—"

"*Yes*?" Darius drawled, resting his chin on his hands, grin widening.

Remus' expression grew even more alarmed. "Are you—Are you *drunk*?"

Darius laughed. "Maybe just a bit . . . "

Concern settled at the bottom of Remus' stomach. He nearly dropped the basket on the floor, but managed to place it on the table and kneel beside the younger. Had Sirius done something to make Darius so distressed that he needed to drown himself in rum? He grasped the man firmly by the shoulders and shook them slightly, trying to break some rationality into his head. "Darius . . . did Sirius do something to make you end up like, well, *this*?”

Darius snorted and turned his head slightly. "It's that bastard's fault in the first place!" At the furrowing of Remus' brows, he waved his hand absently. "No, no, not like that. We had breakfast together and everything, and then *he* brought out the liquor."

Remus smiled weakly yet still looked a tad disturbed as he straightened himself. "I take it you and Sirius are getting along, then?" Darius simply nodded, his attention set to the large basket. Remus noticed this and chuckled. "Molly thinks that you're too thin, so . . . " he gestured to the basket in which Darius laughed.

"Would you mind having breakfast with me?" He asked abruptly, perhaps too eagerly. He had already eaten and the alcohol filled the places the soup didn't cover, but he just didn't want Remus to go so soon, he just wanted someone there, a common side-effect when he was inebriated. The werewolf looked quite taken aback by the desperation in the other man's voice, but agreed nonetheless. "Of course Darius." Darius gave a wide smile that held the childish cheerfulness that only liquor could bring forth. Remus couldn't help but grin himself.

As he sat down after they had finished setting out the food, Remus asked, "So, where is Sirius anyway?"

Darius frowned at the mention of his cousin, now remembering how he had ran out earlier. However, he felt that Remus didn't need to know about that little detail, and instead said, "I think he's asleep."

Remus laughed again. "I thought so."

"It smells good," Darius commented with exaggerated admiration, using no way to conceal his desire to change the subject, "I can cook myself, but there isn't much food to work with here," he flinched when he recalled the event with the spiders, "I'll have to go shopping after work—"

"I can," Remus said carelessly, "I can do the shopping for you."

Darius shook his head, "No, no, I can do it after work tomorrow. I really don't want to be a burden. Besides, the Ministry isn't too far from a small market." He then smiled brightly. "You've always been so nice to me, Remus, even after twenty-eight years . . . "

Remus took Darius' hand, his cheeks flushing slightly, taking note that the younger had said his first name, "Someone needs to be, Darius. What do you do in the Ministry?"

Darius grew embarrassed from the mention of his job, not the fact that the werewolf was grasping his hand. Talking about his job was one thing he had planned not to do, for he knew he would spill something without even realizing. Heat snaked it way up to his cheeks as he proclaimed, "I work with Lucius."

Remus nodded, curious of the other man's odd expression. Perhaps that was shame? "It's nothing to be ashamed of, Darius," he assured, gripping his hand a little tighter, then he smiled, "A real slave driver, I take it? What do you do for him?"

Darius' face split into a smirk, blush still there. "I suck his prick for a living." He then burst into a fierce bout of sniggers, apparently unaware of what he had just confessed, as he had feared would happen. Remus laughed as well, but he couldn't shake off the sincerity he had felt from that statement.

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It little afterward, after they had finished and washed the dishes, and neither Remus nor Darius had seen Sirius. Remus was growing more and more worried, and despite himself, so was Darius.

“I’d better go check on him,” Remus said absently, standing from the table. Darius jumped up and stopped him.

“I’ll get him!” he said, jutting his thumb at himself.

Remus shook his head. "You don’t know what Sirius is capable of when he’s drunk—" Darius waved his hand to dismiss him and was already bounding up the stairs.

Remus sighed and slumped back in his chair. If those two continue this, he thought, but it was cut off by a happier thought.

At least they’re getting along . . .

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Darius knocked on Sirius' door again, his ear pressed firmly against the flaking door. Still nothing. He sighed. Why wouldn’t he Sirius open his door? Darius continued to flick his eyes towards the knob, but kept choosing against it. If Sirius’ door was closed (which, funny enough, it always was) Uldaricus was not able to enter without permission. Not like he would be getting in any other way.

But that was ten-year-old Uldaricus Black, he thought, You are thirty-eight-year-old Darius Black, therefore the rule doesn’t bound you.

He smiled and nodded at his logic and opened the door, "Siri—"

Said man was curled up on the floor.

"—us?"

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End Chapter 2

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A/N: Reviews appreciated and if you see any mistakes, I would like to know.