Weep, Little Lion Man
"Are you sure you've got your mirror?"
Sirius rolls his eyes, "Yes mum, I've got it, just like I told you three times already."
"I want you to call me every night, even if it's just a mo' to see your face and make sure you're fine."
"You'll never be able to disprove the mother hen allegations at this point, Prongs," Remus says, nose in his book, feet on Sirius' lap.
James huffs, "Someone's got to, you're all a bunch of wrecks. I'm the overbearing mum, Moony's the emotionally distant but responsible father, and Pete's our daughter."
"Why am I a bird? Can't I be your son at least?" Peter protests, the buttons of his shirt all mixed up so it lay oddly puckered where he was slouched on the train seat.
"Pete's not nearly pretty enough to be a bird," Sirius says, twirling a lock of hair around his finger.
"Hey!"
"Fine, you're our son."
"When did I become a father?" Remus questions, turning a page of his book.
"See?" James gestures to Remus, "Emotionally distant, doesn't even know about our family. I'm so lonely in this relationship."
"What am I then, Prongs?"
James smirks, "Oh Padfoot, you're our very bad dog."
Sirius pretends to be annoyed by James' fussing because it was easier to downplay things and make jokes than let himself feel how scared he was to go home. It was always like this, the week of holiday break, he would pace and bite everyone's head off, and he would spend hours running through the forbidden forest as Padfoot to escape his anxiety. He would rather break each of his fingers than go home, but his parents had never allowed him to stay at Hogwarts either, and he was afraid that if he rebelled too much they'd remove him from school altogether.
James had good reason to be nervous. Sirius had come back to school more often than not banged up and more than a little twitchy. Sometime around fourth year, James had found an old family heirloom, a two-way mirror, as a way to contact each other, and it helped immensely since Sirius wasn't allowed post at home. Seeing and hearing his best friend even in the black hole that was Grimmauld helped make things a little easier, and gave him some hope.
Even still, Sirius could walk into Grimmauld in full body armor and still feel as if he was walking to the gallows, every holiday spent in that house seeped into his bones, stripped more away from him, stuck with him longer than the last time even at school. He couldn't bear to think about it too long, so he let James fuss and he pretended there was no reason to worry at all, it was just Christmas.
The boys exchange goodbyes in the compartment, knowing by now that Sirius saying goodbye on the platform in front of his parents was not worth the risk. James gives him a too-tight hug and fusses some more, Peter leaving with a salute and a promise to bring back his mother's famous shortbread, and Remus lingers until they are gone, closing the compartment door behind them and pulling down the shade.
"Don't get any naughty ideas, Moons, my parents are right outside, you know," Sirius says, smirking, shoving his hands in his pockets to hide his anxious fiddling.
"Oh, shut it, you're insufferable," Remus responds, tugging him in with a hand on the back of his neck, fingers tangled in black curls. He hunches slightly to press their foreheads together, Sirius tilting his face up to meet him, "You'll be fine," He murmurs.
Sirius releases a shuddering breath, pressing closer and closer until finally, they were kissing. The barest touch of lips at first, then bruising pressure and blossoming, warm and sure. Remus' hands in his hair, on his neck, holding him with such ferocity, opening Sirius' mouth and pouring devotion unspoken into him. Sirius taking hold of his waist, slipping under the fabric of his jumper, fingers tracing the divots of the deep scar on his left hip. They break away to breathe seconds after, flushed faces still inches from each other.
"You'll be fine," Remus says again like he was reassuring himself too. His thumb brushes the corner of Sirius' kiss-swollen mouth, "Just try to come back to us in one piece, yeah? For Ol' Jamie's sake, at least."
"Of course, I'm only going home," Sirius says with false bravado and a counterfeit smile, dropping his head onto Remus' shoulder and trying to infuse the safety he felt in his boyfriend's arms into his veins to take with him. Sometimes, maybe most times, Sirius doesn't feel very brave at all. "I can handle a week, easy."
Remus lingers for a few moments, wishing he could shrink Sirius and put him in his pocket to keep that look off of his face, to keep him away from that house, but students were emptying out of the train rapidly, excited to start the break, and they were running out of time.
Remus brushes his hand over his boyfriend's hair to smooth it down, "Try to look less snogged, would you? You should leave first, I'll give you a few minute's head start."
Sirius squeezes his hand and brushes past him to get to the door, sending a last glance over his shoulder before leaving his boyfriend standing there empty-handed.
It was fine, at first. Normal. His parents were absent most of the first and second days, which suited Sirius just fine. Kreacher made them meals, spat at Sirius, and muttered under his breath, and Regulus spent most of his time reading in his room, sometimes agreeing to fly with him in the backyard. Sirius checked in and reassured James that he was alright, feeling lighter than he'd expected to.
But on the third day of break, on Christmas Eve, Mother called him into the sitting room. Nothing good ever happened to Sirius in the sitting room, and he felt his muscles tense in preparation as he stepped through the door, pushing his shoulders back to appear unafraid and nonchalant. He did a double take when he saw Lucius and Bellatrix in the room, Bellatrix draped lazily on the settee and Lucius standing by the fire, speaking in low tones to his mother.
"You called?"
Walburga turns around, regarding him with a peculiar twinkle in her eye, "Yes. As you are nearly of age, we believe it's time for you to start your training, and your cousins were gracious enough to offer their help."
"Training?" Sirius asks, alarm bells going off in his head. Lucius and Bellatrix were the two slimiest people he had the misfortune of knowing, and he knew if they were offering their help with anything, it was certainly nothing he wanted any part of.
"I'm sure you've heard of some of your fellow students being tested," Lucius says meaningfully, "The ones of pureblooded nobility."
"Tested?"
Bellatrix rolls her eyes, "I told you we should've chosen Regulus, at least he has some idea of what's going on, of what it will take."
"Nonsense," Walburga says, "Sirius is heir, it is his duty."
"Gryffindor is doing his head in, that bumbling headmaster is probably filling their heads with talk of rising against us. Your heir is corrupt."
"Shut your mouth niece, or I'll do it for you," Walburga cuts in sharply, "He will do what he must, I will make sure of it."
Sirius glances between them all, trying to catch up, what did Regulus know that he didn't? Who was being tested?
"Those who are joining in service to our Dark Lord must be tested, for loyalty and endurance, to the lengths of their devotion," Lucius explains, "As heir, you too, will be tested. But first, you must learn from us, so we can ensure that you succeed and carry your family's legacy well.
"What makes you so certain I'd do anything for you? For your Dark Lord?" Sirius spits, tensed for a fight he knew he'd lose, three against one, it'd be his blood on the floor. It wouldn't be the first time, anyway.
Walburga shoots a wordless hex at him, a slice across his cheek that leaks hot blood but hardly makes him flinch, a warning. "You will do whatever I say and whatever your cousins order you to. Your will is mine, now." Before Sirius could react, she casts another spell, "Imperio."
Bellatrix claps her hands and stands, dancing around him in excitement, "Oh, this is much more fun. I had wondered how you would get him to come along."
"The Dark Lord will want a willing participant," Lucius says skeptically, "I understand wanting your heir to be the one presented, but this one is hardly what is required."
"Don't you worry yourself, Lucius. This is only for now, this will be our tool in bending and breaking his will, in reshaping it into what it needs to be for the Dark Lord. By the time of his testing, he will hardly be able to recall his previous convictions."
Sirius could hear and see just fine, but he couldn't fully comprehend anything, so he was merely a silent watcher, a puppet waiting for the strings to be taken up and maneuvered. His mother's voice was in his head now, her voice his new conscience.
You will obey,
You will submit,
You will be perfect,
You will be the heir I've always wanted,
You will make me proud.
Regulus couldn't figure out what was wrong with his brother. Sirius was gone from the house for hours every day, and when he returned, he walked through the halls like a wraith or stared out the windows blankly. He didn't talk back to their parents, didn't slouch or refuse to eat the fish Regulus knew he despised for dinner, and didn't speak at all unless spoken to by his parents. He didn't move like Sirius; he was too stiff and stilted, or even really look like him, Sirius' face never appeared so blank, he was normally far too expressive, whether he wanted to be or not. Their mother was pleasant, nearly jaunty, and for once, their house was calm. As much as Regulus had always wished for a calm house, the sudden change made him motion sick, gave him whiplash, a gnawing anxiety and nausea sat heavily on his chest.
Mother lets it slip during lunch that he was training with Lucius and Bellatrix, whatever that meant, it couldn't be good. They had to be holding something over him, some incentive to force his brother to cooperate, there was no other explanation. Regulus tried to speak to him, but whenever he did, Sirius would ignore him entirely, and wouldn't so much as look at him.
What worried him most, was that he hadn't heard Sirius call James in days. They shared a wall, their beds pushed against the same one, so it was quite easy to overhear what was happening in the other room, especially with how hard Regulus had been listening lately, desperate for any inkling of what might be happening. No matter what happened, Sirius wouldn't stop talking to his best friend, not when it was normally the only thing that kept him sane in the house.
One night, Regulus was absently drawing, sitting against the headboard of his bed, hardly paying attention to the shapes on his parchment, mind racing as he listened for Sirius. When he hears voices coming from downstairs, likely the room below him, floating through the vent by his bed, he promptly throws his drawing aside, crouching on the ground to hear better.
Sirius had been gone since early in the morning, and Regulus had been on edge since, waiting for the other shoe to drop. He'd always wished Sirius would act more like him, would stop rebelling and just submit, wished he were smart enough to see that keeping his head down to stay safe was more important than his pride, but now that he was doing it, Regulus wanted his brother back.
"Bellatrix said he broke through the enchantment today when she ordered him to torture it." His father's gruff voice sounded tinny through the vent grate.
"Only briefly," He hears his mother correct cooly, "He still did it. Otherwise, he's been doing quite well, the Dark Lord will be pleased."
"Do you really believe he will pass his test if he must be coerced? He cannot spend his entire life under your curse."
Regulus holds his breath, listening intently, biting the inside of his cheek hard enough to taste iron.
"I believe enough time under the imperius will alter his mind, weaken his convictions. I've read about those whose minds are so changed after, it is as if they are different wizards, they take on the traits of the caster and without prolonged connection to their own conscience, they look to the caster for guidance."
"You intend to erase him."
"I intend to remake him as he should've been in the beginning."
"It's quite a risk, Walburga, you could cause permanent damage to his brain."
"Yes, well, that's why we have Regulus, isn't it?"
Regulus rips away from the vent, running to the adjoined bathroom in his bedroom and collapsing on his knees in front of the toilet, his anxiety crawling up his throat, his mouth full of acid.
They imperio'd him, they took away what made Sirius himself, they snatched his brother away and intended to make him in her image, the one person Sirius hated most in the world. Oh, it made him so sick. Sirius, who made shadow puppets on the wall and read him bedtime stories when they were kids, who dropped everything any time Regulus needed him at school, who was stupid and brave and every inch a Gryffindor. They had stolen him.
When his stomach finally stops churning, he washes his face, trying to think of what he could possibly do. He paces the length of his room, throwing out ideas quicker than he was thinking of them. He could steal the mirror and call James, he could research a countercurse, he could send an anonymous letter to the Ministry—
Suddenly, he hears the crack of apparation and a thump as a body hits the floor with a cry. Regulus waits by the door, listening for his parents voices or footsteps, and after a few agonizing, quiet minutes, he slips out of his bedroom door, careful to keep his footsteps silent as he creeps into Sirius' room.
Immediately, Regulus can tell the curse had been lifted for the time. Sirius was more expressive than he'd been in days; sprawled on the floor with trembling limbs, writhing in pain and covered in soot, crying harder than Regulus has ever seen, great, heaving sobs that made him want to cut his ears off so he might never hear it again.
Part of his shirt was smoldering, burnt away around his shoulder, where the skin was blackened and bubbling. He'd been cursed, Bellatrix's no doubt, she had a penchant for knowing the cruelest spells, for always being a little too happy to utilize them. Regulus didn't know how to help, he couldn't use magic outside of school, and the little knowledge he had of muggle healing probably wouldn't help him here.
He leaves Sirius on the floor to rush to the bathroom, pulling the muggle first aid kit out of the cabinet, and searching for anything that might help. There’s a small white tube labeled burn cream that he grabs, though it seems unlikely it would help much with a burn like Sirius'. He also grabs a towel and wets it with cold water, his heart racing in his chest as his brother cries out, incoherent words falling out of his mouth.
Regulus comes back in the room, his arms full of items that wouldn't help nearly as much as magic would, or potions, but it was all he had. He crouches in front of Sirius, dropping the supplies, his hands hovering over his brother, unsure.
"It hurts, it hur— I didn't want— I couldn't do it— please," Sirius sobs desperately, pleading with no one, face scrunched up in pain and pressed into the floor, tears tracking through the soot stains.
"Okay, Sirius, tu vas bien," He grabs the damp towel, wishing someone could tell him what to do, "I'm gonna put this on, it might help," He presses the towel to the burn, nearly gagging when he heard the hissing sound of fire being extinguished, the smell of burning flesh filling his nose. Sirius writhes under his hand, his cries growing dangerously loud, growing in pitch until Regulus slaps a hand over his mouth. "I'm sorry, please be quiet. Shut up,Sirius, Je suis désolé."
The burn goes from his collarbone to halfway down his bicep, and layers of skin come off with every pass of the cold towel, sickening shades of black and red. Regulus begins to cry too, wholly out of his depth and half wondering if he should go to his parents for help, but knowing they wouldn't particularly care. Eventually, Sirius succumbs to the pain, eyes rolling in the back of his head and his cries falling silent, which makes Regulus feel a guilty kind of relief.
He uses the entire tube of burn cream on his arm, grimacing at the feeling of seared flesh under his hands, and using the roll of gauze to wrap around the festering wound. When he finishes, Regulus rests his forehead against his brothers, taking a moment to breathe through the strangling grip fear has on him. After a few minutes, he pulls himself together and hauls Sirius up by his armpits, stumbling under his deadweight, and pulls him to his bed, managing clumsily to get him under the covers after several minutes and sliding into bed with him, unwilling to leave.
By breakfast, Sirius disappears again, blank as a sheet of parchment and silent as death. Mother proudly lays the Daily Prophet out on the table for them to see, a black and white moving picture of a burning house, the haunting image of the dark mark floating in the sky above it, subtitled: Supporters of the Dark Lord wreak havoc in muggle town, three dead, seven injured.
Regulus nearly drops his spoon in his porridge, remembering the soot and burning flesh smell from last night, and his parents' conversation, Bellatrix said he broke through the enchantment today, when she ordered him to torture it. His mother was so pleased, and Sirius was so still, staring at the image without an ounce of emotion on his face, not even pain from the burn Regulus knew was under his clothes, hidden. He still did it, Mother had replied smugly. Regulus pushes away his porridge, losing what little appetite he had in the first place.
Sirius hasn’t spoken in over two days. He was practically a marionette; allowing Regulus to move him without sound or complaint, checking his bandages or helping him dress, the only sound the occasional near-silent whine when his injuries were pulled, but only when she releases him from the curse for the night. The only times he was responsive at all was at night when Mother went to sleep and had no need to expend the magical energy keeping Sirius under. He'd taken to sleeping in Sirius' bed, afraid he would do something, though he wasn't sure what. Neither of them slept much, Regulus was too scared to close his eyes and wake up to find Sirius gone, and Sirius was plagued by nightmares and pain that jolted him awake too often to sleep much.
Regulus questions him every night, trying to pull something out of him, but Sirius only cries or stares into the distance. Regulus was terrified his brain had already been damaged permanently, and he pulled out every book he could find in the Black library about dark curses that mess with free will, but none offered any insight on healing.
Sirius wasn't called back for training with Bellatrix and Lucius again, it seemed that he had satisfied them for now, and Mother was happy. Potter called through the mirror incessantly, desperately, every night for hours, but his voice only seemed to make Sirius more upset and confused, so Regulus shoves the mirror in the bottom of his trunk, muffling his voice under heaps of clothes.
Regulus levitates both of their trunks next to him as they navigate the train station so he could keep a hand wrapped around Sirius' elbow, ushering his brother through the crowd. Mother had smoothed a hand down Sirius' hair before they left, a delicate gesture fiercely contrasting the violent flinch Sirius gave in response, but she ignored this, telling him in a sickly sweet voice to keep being a good boy at school. Their mother had a talent for making even the blandest, vaguest of comments feel like a threat. She patted Regulus' cheek and told him to watch out for his brother and remember to write (which really meant to spy on him and report back to her), and then Kreacher apparated them to the station, both brothers sick to their stomachs.
Regulus ushers them onto the train, slipping his hand down to his brother's wrist as the walkway narrowed, compartments full of chattering students on either side of them. Sirius lets out an almost canine-like whine at the touch, but keeps up with Regulus' pace, stumbling every now and then. He was desperate to get his brother to his friends, hoping they could fix Sirius, they knew him in a way Regulus didn't, in a way he couldn't, no matter what Regulus wished could be different. Regulus foolishly hopes all Sirius needed was to be with them, to be surrounded by Gryffindors and their foolishness to come back to himself. Regulus releases his wrist to tug at his sleeve instead, muttering an apology, his head on a swivel as he searched for the right compartment.
He sighs in relief when he catches sight of a scarred face underneath a fringe of wavy brown hair, head bent close to the other two boys, Potter and Pettigrew, a deadly serious look on his face. Regulus throws open the door to their compartment with perhaps a little too much force if the boys' reactions were any indication, Lupin mid-sentence, mouth still open, Pettigrew half out of his seat, having jumped up in surprise, and Potter, appearing as tired as Regulus felt, staring at them wild-eyed behind his smudged glasses. They all were frozen, the boys watching Regulus, Regulus watching them, realizing belatedly how frantic and harried he must look.
His eyes linger on Potter for a little longer than the rest, swollen eyelids and unnaturally frowning mouth, wearing a soft maroon jumper that made his cheeks look flushed, unfairly beautiful, even in his current state. Regulus clears his throat, trying to adopt a calmer expression, "Hullo. Er, I'm just delivering my brother."
All eyes fixate on Sirius then, who was watching his fingers idly twist in his robes, completely ignoring them, or unaware they were there at all. Regulus gently pushes him into the bench next to Potter, who sits up abruptly, all furrowed brows and concern written in every line of his tired face. Sirius slumps into the corner easily, exhausted, silent, unreachable.
"Sirius!" James exclaims, a little too loudly, seeming barely able to contain himself, "I've been trying to reach you for days, mate, did you get your mirror taken? What happened? Are you hurt?"
"Pads?" Remus says in the silence that should've been filled by Sirius' voice, sitting across from him and leaning closer, trying to catch his eyes, "Sirius?" When he was unsuccessful in getting a response, he turns angry amber eyes on Regulus, who hovers like an intruder in the compartment, caught between desperately wanting to leave and never letting his brother out of sight, "What the hell is wrong with him? What did your family do?"
Regulus licks his lips, backing toward the door, sensing danger, "I healed what I could the muggle way, but I didn't have any potions and I can't do magic outs—"
"What did you do to him?" Remus growls, standing to his full height and glaring down at Regulus.
Regulus lifts his chin to meet the challenge even though he felt like shrinking, he would not show fear to a bloody Gryffindor. "I did nothing, I helped him after. But he—"
"You're damned right you did nothing, you never do, do you? A cowardly snake you are, letting him take all the hits for you while you play perfect son," Remus spits, hands clenching into fists.
"Didn't you hear me? I helped him! Who do you think gets him back on his feet every time? Cleans the blood up? Stitches him?" Regulus takes a tremulous breath, face twisted angrily, a head shorter than Remus but with enough fury to match, "I may be a coward, but it keeps me safe. Bravery is worth nothing in that house, all it will do is get you killed! You should be grateful that I was there—”
"Grateful?” Remus nearly roars, stepping further into his space, “I shou—”
The word punches out of Remus in a puff of air when a hand shoves harshly against his solar plexus, making him stumble back. Sirius stands suddenly between them, silvery blue eyes icy and more than a little wild, appearing almost lost, body completely covering his little brother’s. Time stands still in the compartment, tense silence stretches across all of them, only broken up by the occasional harsh breath from Sirius, who seemed to be gearing up for a fight. It was the most present Regulus had seen his brother in days, and it cut him up inside that it was in defending Regulus that he finally came back to himself.
Regulus steps out from behind him, sending a stony glare toward Remus, before reaching out to his brother, “He’s not going to hurt me, Sirius. No one is,” Regulus tries to nudge him back into his seat, worried at how pale he was, but Sirius didn’t budge, sharp gaze analyzing everyone in the room as if waiting for them to lunge at him. “Sirius, regardez moi," He waits until Sirius finally glances at him to continue, "No one can hurt me when you’re here, right? You won’t let it happen, so it’s fine, okay? It’s just your friends here.”
Sirius’ shoulders relax a little at those words, though he still watches them all carefully, especially Remus, who he scrutinizes as if searching for an ulterior motive, as if he didn't recognize him and didn't know to trust him already.
“I won’t hurt him, Pads. I promise,” Remus speaks up, standing still so he wouldn’t be perceived as a threat, nausea roiling in his gut, wondering how many times Sirius had stood in front of his brother like this, defending him because nobody else would. It made him sick, it made him furious. "We're on the Hogwarts Express, heading to school. Nobody is going to hurt anybody."
Sirius watches him for a few more minutes before he seems to believe him, nodding to himself before dropping back into his seat, taking what seemed to be deliberate breaths to calm down. James nudges his calf lightly with his shoe, waiting for any sort of response. Everyone seems to be waiting for Sirius to speak, to crack a smile and make a crude joke and defuse the tension, but he only sits there, staring at his shaking hands.
"What the hell is going on?" James asks Regulus, sounding more scared than angry, his gaze hardly leaving his friend.
Regulus sighs, "He won't speak, he hasn't in days. I— Our parents—" He scrubs a hand over his eyes, he'd been awake too long, watching Sirius sleep fitfully every night, waking him from nightmares every few hours. He wasn't sure he should tell them the truth, wasn't sure a bunch of Gryffindors could be trusted not to make a bigger mess out of things. "He was hurt, and he's been out of it since. He needs to be healed, I did what I could, but.." He trails off, unable to finish, shaking his head.
"Okay Reg," James says, sounding strained, tearing his gaze away from his friend to meet Regulus' eyes, "I believe you. We'll take care of him."
He takes a breath, relaxing slightly, leaning on the door as he glances down at his brother, "I gotta go, Sirius. You know I can't be seen with you, but if— if you want, we can meet in secret any time. I'll be around, okay?" He waits for a minute, but the only reply he gets is a twitch of Sirius' fingers as if he wanted to grab Regulus and make him stay.
Regulus nods to himself, heart sinking, casting one last look at the boys in the compartment and turning to close the door and leave. James watches him go, watching for any winces or stiffness in his movements but finds none. He'd always thought Regulus experienced a different kind of abuse in that house, he didn't believe anyone got out unscathed. They just survived it differently. Remus returns to his seat, his gaze never leaving Sirius, mouth downturned, wrinkling a scar on his cheek.
"Are you hungry, Padfoot? My mum packed some extra shortbread," Peter offers, breaking the tense quiet and rummaging through his rucksack. He holds it out but doesn’t react when Sirius doesn’t move to grab it, only places it next to him with an easy smile.
The boys look at each other helplessly when Sirius merely closes his eyes, shrinking into the corner, taking up as little space as possible. They wait until he was limp with exhaustion, mouth slightly open in his sleep before they began plotting, the three Gryffindors hunched together, whispering feverishly.
"Can you smell any blood Moony?" Peter asks, picking at a loose thread on the sleeve of his button-up.
"On either of them?" James adds, needing to know.
Remus scoffs under his breath, "As if they've ever hurt Regulus. But no, dried blood maybe, on Sirius, but nothing fresh as far as I can tell."
James opens his mouth to protest but decides it’s not the time. He doesn’t know Regulus very well, and he certainly doesn’t understand why he always acts the way he does; the picture-perfect heir, pure-blooded and snobbish, but also, a scared little brother who does his best to keep his big brother alive in a home that wanted him submissive or dead, a scared little brother who’d learned that to be safe he must be quiet so he had. James saw him; purplish bags under his eyes and careful touches to not hurt or scare Sirius, and also, clenched jaw and fists and snapped straight spine from keeping it all inside like he was constantly trapping a soul-tearing scream behind his teeth because to be safe he must be quiet so he was.
James drags a hand through his hair anxiously, hastily making a decision and standing abruptly, startling the two boys across from him, "I'll be right back."
"What? Where—"
"Prongs!" Remus whisper-yells, but James is already out the door.
James didn't really have a plan, he didn't even really know what he was going to say, he just follows his instincts to the Slytherin compartment of the train. Luckily, he doesn’t have to go that far into snake territory, catching Regulus as he was opening the door to the tiny bathroom, and seeing his opportunity, he shoves Regulus inside and closes the door behind the two of them. Regulus stumbles and whips around, his wand drawn so fast that James doesn’t see him do it.
"Potter, what the hell are you playing at?"
"Sorry, sorry, I wasn't thinking properly. I just wanted to talk to you privately."
"So you ambush me in the loo?!" Regulus says incredulously, brandishing his wand still, "I don't have anything else to say to you or your bloody band of Gryffindors, so I suggest you leave before I curse you thirty ways to Thursday."
James nods vigorously, "Yeah no, wasn't the best idea I've had, but give me a minute before you start cursing, yeah?"
Regulus rolls his eyes, casting a muffling charm on the bathroom and gesturing for James to continue. James tugs a hand through his hair nervously, "I just— are you okay? I'm sorry about Remus, he seems to think that you're just as much at fault as the rest of your family for what happens to Sirius, but I don't think you are," James rambles rapidly, continuing when Regulus only looks confused, "I reckon you're stuck, and you don't think you have options, so you do what they say and keep out of the way, but I wanted to give you an option. I wanted— Reg, I wanted to tell you that I'm here for you, too. That if you're hurt or something, you can come to me."
"You don't know me," Regulus snaps, scrutinizing him distrustfully. "You don't know me or my situation, Potter, and you're not intelligent enough to understand it either, so don't try to."
"I know you care about Sirius. I know you don't want him hurt, and you can't stop it from happening, but you heal him every time he does, which means it's not your fault."
Regulus' breath hitches at the words, a flash of vulnerability passing his face, and James took a step closer boldly, Regulus backing away compulsively, knees hitting the toilet in the small space. "What really happened? You weren't telling us everything, I know you weren't."
"I can't," Regulus swallows, it feels like his heart was trying to burst from his chest with how hard it was beating. He wants to trust James with this, he cares about Sirius, but what would he think when he found out what he'd done? What they were trying to turn him into? "It's complicated, I can't, James. Just fix him, please."
"How could I, if I don't know what happened to him? How could I, when he keeps going back to that house?" James demands, voice rising in frustration and hurt. Regulus covers his mouth with his hand, trying to stifle the cry that was threatening to escape, the hopelessness that wraps like vines around his throat, suffocating him. He is so tired and so afraid all the time. James reaches out, his gaze softening, pools of honey, "Reg? Are you hurt, too?"
Regulus shakes his head shamefully, he almost wishes he was, he deserves to be. He chokes on a sob, a week of carrying this awful terror still heavy on his shoulders, Sisyphus and his rock, Regulus and Sirius, trying to get his brother through what he shouldn't have to. Breaking and mending, only to break again. Another holiday, another nightmare, another roll of bandages.
"I was so afraid. The whole time, I was so afraid. I'm not good enough to help him, I don't know how and I'm so—" He breaks into a million pieces, in front of this kind boy that loves his brother, and somehow seems to care a little bit about him too.
"Regulus," James murmurs, catching his hand, well aware he could be hexed for it, but looking at this tortured boy, and thinking about his best friend broken somewhere on the train, he pulls Regulus into a tight hug, unable to help it. The boy freezes up when James wraps his arms around him, but slowly begins to unravel under his hands, sobs muffled into his chest, molding into his body like he was meant to be there. "It's alright, you're safe now. You don't have to be afraid anymore."