The look on Sirius' face when he closes his eyes, that instinctive terror of Regulus, makes him want to die on the spot. He'd deserve it, after all. For making Sirius afraid of him like they'd been of their parents. (Like Regulus still is. He can't speak for Sirius, with a new home, a new family--) Bellatrix's words strike him suddenly like hot irons against his skin but he can feel his heart in his throat. He's going to vomit.

He's going to get punished. He's going to get killed for failing and he's going to deserve it, but not for the reasons the Dark Lord thinks.

"Bellatrix," he whispers, and it's pleading even though she's still holding his wand arm and he can't go anywhere, can't do anything. His mind is racing and he thinks he's come upon something, maybe: "let me try other methods. I know you love this--" torture, he means, "--but you know I prefer ways far more subtle. Your style is far more rightfully grandiose than mine, but I've my ways. Let me talk to him." Merlin, he's doing his best.

She almost seems to be considering it for a moment, but it's too little, too late. "No," she says finally, that danger still there. Still lurking. "No, that won't work this time, Regulus." This time has so many more implications. "You are going to cast the Cruciatus on him. This is the only way with his type, I'm afraid."

No. Even if he did try it would fail, and he can't. His breath shakes and he inhales, exhales, inhales again. "He's my brother, Bellatrix!" It's a shout when the rest had been quiet and even.

Bellatrix reels back and slaps him without a second thought. "You don't have a brother!"

The slap strikes him still: Bellatrix has never hit him before. The expression on Regulus' face will be painfully familiar to Sirius.