Regulus noticed his office door was open too late.
It was barely an inch, but he knows he kept it firmly shut, he always did. He was the only one who ever went in there. Sometimes James did, but that was only to call after him. James always hated that room. He hates that it’s in the house they built together, he doesn’t like talks of the war. He likes to pretend that they’re far past it even if he knows that they’re not. It’s been years since there were celebrations in the streets and yet Regulus knows it isn’t that easy. They can make signs and drink all night long. They can throw confetti and laugh like they haven’t in years and it won’t change anything. The flags might be waved but the war is far from over. He tries his best to keep it in the room. He never takes any of his work outside of it. Whenever James or Harry ask him to leave he does, putting up no fight. He doesn’t want it to consume him like he used to, back when he was young and too stupid; he believed everything he was fed.
But the door was open. The door was open and the air of his office spread throughout the house, and he doesn’t even know how long it’s been like that. He’d been out all day. James forced him out of the house for once, he wanted a day just the two of them. It had been months since they’ve been able to be together. It was nice, but Regulus’ office door was open. It was open and the darkness within was slipping through the floorboards. He looked behind him, as if James would come running but he didn’t. Regulus walked into the room alone. He was expecting to see Harry, but he was nowhere to be seen. All that was left in his wake was wrinkled papers spread across the floor and Regulus’ journal sitting open on the desk. His journal, that journal, the one he’s kept since he was eighteen and decided to make a decision of his own for once. The one filled with newspaper clippings and tales of a cave hidden away from the world. The journal Regulus promised James that he destroyed, and burned. He swore it was gone, but it was sitting on his desk.
Regulus doesn’t know how long he stood there, stuck in his body. Time was running out, the sands of life falling quickly and suddenly and yet he didn’t move. The sky was falling and he didn’t move. He stood in the doorway looking at that journal, the one he promised to destroy; the one he could never part with knowing the only person in the house was his fifteen-year-old son. Time bends and moves and he’s watching Sirius leave the house again. He’s sitting in the Potter’s manor, terrified out of his mind as he waited for James to come home from war knowing he couldn’t go with him. He’s standing in the doorway of his office, and his fifteen-year-old son isn’t home.
A loud crack coming from the living room breaks him out of the storm.
His legs start moving before he even registers it. He slides against the wooden floors. He knows what he’ll find before he even gets there, but he doesn’t truly believe it until he’s there standing in the living room. Harry lies on the carpet right next to the fireplace with blood on his lips.
“Harry-” The name punches itself out of Regulus’ lungs as he drops to his knees beside him. He’s not even sure how he got there. He was just in the office a moment ago. “Harry?”
Harry looks at him, his eyes darkened and wide; he’s never looked so young. Regulus holds his head in his hands, and he’s an infant again. He smells so sweet like summertime and Regulus is rocking him back to sleep. There’s a storm outside, but Harry’s not scared of it like Regulus was when he was his age. He never was. He just looked up at Regulus with gentle, peaceful eyes because he knew he was safe in his Papa’s arms. Harry’s giving him the same look right now, the same exact look.
“Papa,” Harry whispers, his voice weak. Regulus brushes away the blood from his mouth as if he can just clean it, it’ll be like there was no blood at all, but more comes up.
“What did…” Regulus’ voice dies on his tongue.
“I did exactly as you said,” Harry coughs, his eyelids fluttering like a dream. Harry’s weight is so heavy in Regulus’ arms; deadweight. Regulus looks down at the rest of his body, he finds slashes through his clothes. He’s wearing one of James’ sweaters. Harry never likes to admit to stealing their clothes, not at this age, but one time he confessed to finding some comfort in it. Whenever he had to be away from them for a long time, he’d put on their clothes, keeping his parents close, keeping himself safe. When he was younger and unafraid of sharing his emotions he used to tell them that when he was wearing their clothes, he couldn’t be scared. It soothed all his fears, and he’s wearing James’ sweater now. It’s much too big on him, he’s practically drowning in it.
“Mon cheri,” Regulus whimpers, the name slipping from his tongue. He hasn’t called Harry that in a long time. He started rolling his eyes at it once he hit thirteen. He doesn’t roll his eyes at it now, if anything, they start to glow.
“I saved everyone,” Harry smiles proudly, he moves despite Regulus’ protests slipping a locket out of his pocket. “Like you wanted.”
“Oh,” Regulus doesn’t reach for the locket, he doesn’t care, he just keeps his hands on Harry’s face, not able to look away. “Baby, why? Why would you…”
Harry hums, his eyes closing slowly as he pushes his face towards Regulus’ lap. “Tired.”
“No, no,” Regulus tightens his grip enough for Harry to open his eyes again, “No, no talk to me baby okay? Talk to me. Tell me what happened?” He looks away for a moment to look at the wounds again before pulling his wand out of his back pocket. His hand is shaking around the wood, he can barely hold it, the wand almost slips from his grasp. “Can you tell me?”
Harry practically glows, noble just like his dad. “I found your journal and your mission,” Regulus hums as he tries a spell, only for it to backfire. He tries another. “I wanted to save everyone. I did it, Papa, I did it. Look.” He coughs up blood as he lifts up the locket again, showing off his blood-covered prize. Regulus is brought back to this muggle place they went to when he was three. It was a little carnival, not that far away from home. Harry played this game that was impossible to lose but he gleamed with pride afterwards anyway. He jumped on his heels gripping his prize, a little stuffed lion. James bragged about it being a lion, and Regulus rolled his eyes. He never laughed more than he did on that day. They have photos of it in a book stuffed in the attic.
The spell backfires again.
“I see, baby,” Regulus whines. “How’d you get it?”
Harry swallows before choking but he manages, “Went on a boat,” his breath rattles, “And had to drink a potion.”
“Uh-huh,” Regulus hums and tries another spell.
It backfires.
“I got it, but I was so thirsty, Papa,” Harry confesses, “I’ve never been more thirsty in my entire life. I went to the water and there were these monsters.”
Regulus is getting woken up in the middle of the night. Harry’s five and standing at his edge of the bed talking in quick whispers about a nightmare he had. Harry swore there were monsters under his bed trying to grab at his ankles. Regulus didn’t laugh, or tell him he was being silly, he let him climb in the bed with them. Tucking Harry between the two of them. He promised he was safe with them, and that no nightmares would come. He stayed up until he fell back asleep, holding him to his chest and brushing through his hair.
“They got me,” Harry continues, “They got me and I…” he trails off and Regulus tries another spell. It. Backfires. “Tired, Papa.”
“I know, I know,” Regulus’ vision turns blurry, and he feels like he’s drowning himself. He thinks it would feel like this. “Just stay with me. How’d you get here?”
“I don’t know,” Harry whispers. Regulus looks back up at his face and his eyes are so wide, they’re crystal clear. “They got me in the water and I- I just really wanted to be home. I missed being home.” Regulus goes to speak but his voice fails him. “Papa, I’m tired, can I tell you more in the morning?”
Regulus chokes, tears slipping down his face. They sink into Harry’s wounds and Regulus thinks for a second maybe it could save him. Maybe his tears have magic in them that can heal the impossible, but Harry’s still bleeding and more tears fall down Regulus' cheeks.
“Can you stay awake just a little longer?” Regulus croaks, “For me?”
Harry takes a breath, it’s shaky and small, and he nods, “Okay, Papa”
He sounds so young. Regulus wants to burn down the world, and he never wants to look away from him again.
“Stay with me baby,” Regulus tries another spell, knowing the results will be the same. “Just stay with me.”
The clock above him ticks, time continues slipping, and his hands keep shaking. Every spell backfires. Every single one. He keeps going. He can’t stop. He can’t look away.
“Harry!” James’ voice breaks Regulus away from the present moment. Oh, James. “Harry,” James mumbles repeatedly as he runs forward falling to his knees. “Harry. Harry. Harry.”
“Dad,” Harry smiles over at him as he takes his face in his hands. “Dad.”
He looks so happy, so innocent. It’s December in his first year at Hogwarts and he’s running over at them, so happy to see them after so long. He was talking a mile a minute, despite all the letters he still had so much to tell them.
“What happened?” James cries, “Reg? Reg, what happened? What…”
“I-” Regulus puts down his wands. “I don’t-”
“Reg!” James doesn’t look away from Harry’ face. Regulus doesn’t either.
“I can’t heal him,” Regulus admits in whispers, “I can’t.”
“I’m sorry,” Harry murmurs, his head lulling as he closes his eyes. “I’m so tired, Dad. Papa.”
“Harry,” James wipes away his tears. More blood smears on Harry’s face but he doesn’t notice, his eyes are still shining. “Regulus! Help!”
Regulus doesn’t do anything. He doesn’t move. He can’t.
“You’re gonna be okay,” Regulus reassures him.
Harry’s four, and he’s just had a nightmare.
“You’re gonna be okay, mon cheri, we have you.”
He’s eleve,n and it’s the night before he’s leaving for Hogwarts for the first time.
“Regulus!” James cries out.
Regulus doesn’t look at him, he can’t. Harry blinks tiredly over at him.
“Papa,” Harry whispers, his eyes far away. “Look.”
It’s deja vu as Harry lifts the locket up again.
“I did it,” Harry laughs, so innocently, so small.
Regulus whimpers, “You did so good,” he promises him, “You did so good, Harry.”
Harry smiles, he looks between the two of them and he’s smiling.
“Reg,” James whispers. He’s still looking at Harry.
Regulus looks over at James for only a moment, watching as the tears fall from his face. It’s only a second later when his gaze follows them back over to Harry. He watches as the tear falls on Harry’s cheek and he finds Harry’s eyes changed. They’re still shining. Harry’s still smiling, but he’s far. Too far.
“Harry?” James whimpers, his chest stalling as he hiccups, “Harry?”
Regulus doesn’t even register that his face has fallen into Harry’s chest, he feels his blood on his skin. His beautiful boy. Oh his beautiful boy. The world shifts, and yet it keeps spinning anyway. Despite it all the world keeps moving and Regulus’ heart still beats even if it’s ripped from his chest.
“Reg?” The name echoes and it sounds like James has been calling him for a long while but it takes so long for Regulus to register it. “Did you know? What happened?”
Regulus forces himself to sit up, his hand tangles in Harry’s blood soaked sweater, James’ sweater, “I’m sorry,” is all he manages before he looks over at James.
He watches the realization spread over his face.
Together, soaked in the blood of their beautiful, beautiful, boy they know they’ll never touch the sun again.