rock a bye baby (do not you fear)
It had been two weeks since Sirius first resolved to keep a closer eye on Regulus, and he didn’t like what he saw: constant use of glamour charms and a horrid appetite. Often, he would skip meals altogether. Add that to the faint but unmistakable scent of a terrified little that Sirius could always smell near Regulus, and Sirius was crossing the line from concerned to scared. That's why he was here.
Sirius looked around at the two other people at the library table, Lily and Aidan Green. Finally, the third, Emma Vanity, came in and sat down. They were the four caregivers in Hogwarts' seventh year. Over the last year, they’d gone from just peers to a tight-knit group of friends.
“Is everything all right, Sirius?” Emma asked as she sat down. “It seemed quite urgent when you told me to come here.” Sirius gave her a small smile. “With me? Absolutely. But maybe not with someone else.” He launched into an explanation about what he’d been so distracted with the past few weeks. As he explained, he saw the others’ faces morph from confusion to understanding to worry. “So, I have a favor to ask you all. Can you guys keep an eye on Regulus? Especially you, Emma; you’re in the same house.”
“Merlin’s fucking balls,” Aidan cursed.
“That,” Emma agreed. “Absolutely, we’ll do our best to keep an eye on him at all times. I’ll keep an eye on him in the common room. Lily keep an eye out during your rounds, Aidan, the hallways whenever you can."
As they made their way to the common room, Lily spoke, “He’ll be okay, Sirius.” Her eyes were kind and understanding. She was no stranger to complicated sibling relationships, he knew. Yet, the noose around his neck only grew tighter, and he found himself struggling to breathe. Regulus was alone, and it was his fault.
Regulus thanked Merlin, Morgana, and every deity known to man that the curtains of the dormitory were silenced. It wasn’t like he was doing an amazing job of keeping up appearances anyway.
His penmanship had rapidly deteriorated, and while his writing had never been print-like, it was rapidly approaching illegible. As a result, his grades worsened, prompting teachers to keep a far closer eye on him than he wished. So far, he’d successfully played it off as being out of rhythm after the OWLs ended, but he wasn't sure how long that would excuse him.
He could barely keep any solid food down; his diet consisted mostly of toast and butter, mashed potato, and pudding. Any attempt to eat food that had more fibre or spice only led to him puking it up within an hour.
And of course the most humiliating of all - the incidents. The first episode, caused by a particularly bad nightmare, had made him feel smaller than he ever had before.
Regulus jerked awake, shivering, cold to his bones, his words stuck in his throat. His brain took far longer than it should have to process his environment. Then a wave of horror slammed down onto his head. He avoided looking down, trying to avoid visual confirmation of what his senses were telling him.
His wet pajamas stuck to his skin, and as his attempts to move simply increased the size of the wet spot on his sheet. He had not wet the bed like some Little. He. Had. Not. How could this happen? What would Mother say?
Regulus curled up in the foetal position on the still wet bed, ignoring the way his soaked, freezing pajamas stuck to his legs. Once again, the tears came unbidden, and this time, like most, he couldn’t stop them. He laid, small and alone on sheets that were soaked in his urine and cried.
Regulus’ initial assumption—or rather hope—that the first time was an isolated incident was quickly and ruthlessly squashed. Every time he slept for more than two hours, he played a game of chance, risking being in a similarly humiliating manner. The odds were not typically in his favour.
In an attempt to deal with the threat of humiliation hanging above his head like a cursed Sword of Damocles, Regulus had set for himself a strict routine. He would only sleep for an hour and a half at a time, setting alarms for each interval. In the morning, when he was at his freshest, he would write a letter to Mother in the best handwriting he could muster. He’d make his way down to breakfast with his dorm mates and eat exactly half a toast before leaving. He was always careful to visit the washroom before every class. The indignity was bad enough in the privacy of his own bed; he didn’t need it to make an appearance in front of everyone else. Lunch was a similar, bland affair.
Classes again, then he would sleep for an hour. Then he would work on any homework he’d been given. By the time he was done with tasks that should have taken him less than half the time they did, it was night. It wasn’t quite curfew, but the lack of sleep ensured he had no energy to do anything but walk back up to the dorm and collapse into bed.
That gave him the added advantage of being able to avoid Sirius and his friends. It seemed like everywhere he was, either Sirius or one of his caregiver friends was as well. During meals, in between classes, and after classes had ended. Even in the common room, Emma Vanity would nearly always be somewhere close to him. Never close enough to be suspicious and always with a plausible reason, but he only had to look up, and sure enough, one of them would be staring at him with eyes full of worry. Regulus steered clear of them, especially Sirius. If they did cross paths, Regulus would either end up yelling, which would shatter any semblance of a relationship they had, or would crumble into his brother’s arms and beg him to never leave. Neither option seemed particularly appealing.
Regulus was currently holding out for only one thing. This weekend was Hogsmeade weekend, and all of his dorm mates would be going. In fact, almost everyone would be away from the castle for at least six hours. The prospect of being able to walk around the castle or sit in the dorm without having to worry about someone watching him embarrass himself was all too enticing.
He couldn’t wait.