Too Many Missing Pieces
Regulus can hear James and Sirius still shouting downstairs. Mostly Sirius. He doesn’t know where everyone else went, or if they all stayed to watch the show the best friends are currently putting on, but nobody is upstairs in the bedroom with him and he is very grateful for that.
He feels a little childish, having run away and closed himself off behind the bed curtains. But, at the same time, he feels a little bit entitled to thinking things through in private. And he really does need to think. His brain is bouncing back and forth between the same three thoughts and doesn’t seem capable of generating anything more helpful:
- I can’t believe she took my memories
- James Potter? I was secretly kissing James Potter?
- He didn’t want to leave me
To the first point: he’s lying to himself and he knows it. He can, in fact, believe that she would do that. His mother has proven time and time again that she will do whatever she thinks is necessary to produce a worthy Black heir. He just can’t get past the mechanics of it.
She’s a strong Legilimens and Regulus has never been as strong at occlumency as he would have liked, so the process of getting into his head doesn’t surprise him. But he didn’t even notice anything was missing. Which means she must have spent hours digging around in his head, viewing and selecting which memories would serve her purposes for him to keep and which would need to be removed. And then, after knowing all of the things he would never want her to know, knowing all the ways he wasn’t worthy, she didn’t retaliate.
That had always confused him. Sirius ran away and Regulus was never punished for it. Even though, to his own knowledge he did everything his parents asked, including raising his wand against his own half-dead brother, he couldn’t fathom how he had gotten off scot-free.
Turns out, he didn’t.
It also raises the question: what else did she steal? Tonight made it clear that she stole him helping Sirius and she stole away James Potter. But how will he ever know if those are the only things he can no longer remember? How do you remember something you were forced to forget?
And that’s as far as he can process before his brain bounces to the second point: James Potter.
He had been dating James Potter?! Was he even dating James Potter? Did they just kiss? Did they have sex? Does Regulus even want to know the answer to that question? Did they ever just talk? If so, what did they talk about? What did he learn about James Potter that led Regulus to voluntarily kiss him on top of the astronomy tower? Even more horrifying– what had James Potter learned about him?
And then he reaches capacity with point number two.
He doesn’t know what to do with point number three: Sirius didn’t want to leave him behind.
That revelation shifts his entire world a little bit out of focus.
And then point number three is walking up the stairs, to the foot of his bed.
“Reggie?” Sirius asks, hesitantly. Regulus hadn’t even noticed the yelling finally stopped downstairs. “Can we talk?”
Regulus doesn’t answer, but he waves his wand, undoing the spells that locked his curtains closed. If Sirius really wants to come in, Regulus won’t stop him.
His brother’s hands reach through the curtains and slowly push them apart, shifting the world even more out of focus. With what Regulus knows, he wouldn’t even have expected Sirius to try after not getting a response. But he barely even finished his question before reaching out. Which again brings up the question: what doesn’t Regulus know?
“Reggie?” he asks again, still at the foot of the bed, but visible this time. Regulus tucks his legs up under his chin, making room for Sirius to sit across from him. Sirius moves slowly, but doesn’t hesitate to take up the space. “Are you okay?”
“That’s your leading question?” Regulus says, with no particular emotion. “I’m gonna have to go with no. I’m missing some very fundamental knowledge about myself, so I think that equals not okay. But then again, my whole life has been one long string of not-okays so in a way I guess I am very much okay.”
Sirius looks very uncomfortable, like he can’t decide whether he should laugh or cry. Regulus can’t decide either, so he probably shouldn’t judge.
“Why did you come up here Sirius?”
“To check on you.”
“Funny, the last interaction I recall us having, you actively avoided me when all I wanted to do was check on you.”
It was barely even an interaction, really. He had sent Sirius a note on his birthday asking to have tea together, like they used to on his birthday when they were first in school. He had sent it via owl, and it was delivered that morning at breakfast in the Great Hall. Regulus watched Sirius light it on fire right there at the Gryffindor table.
“You read it,” Regulus continues. “I watched you open it and read it. So you knew it was from me. But that didn’t seem to matter to you.”
“Yeah well, I was mad at you. You avoided me first.”
Regulus doesn’t know what Sirius is talking about. Sirius must see his confusion on his face.
“I tried to talk to you at the beginning of term. I was terrified of what they might have done to you since I left. I found you on the train, but you brushed me off. You were with your friends so I didn’t push. But then I cornered you after the Welcome Feast and you still barely said a word to me. I tried to talk to you every day for the first two weeks of classes and you always ran off. Or when I did manage to catch you, you just stared right through me and didn’t respond to anything I said or did. And I still kept trying. I kept trying at least once a week until the middle of October and you never did anything to acknowledge my existence. And then you sent me a fucking birthday note?! You ignored me for two months and then asked me to tea?! What the hell was wrong with you?!”
“You tried to talk to me?” Regulus asks.
Regulus knows that he was a little bit out of it at the start of term. After it was clear he wasn’t going to be punished for Sirius’s departure, after the terror he felt every moment for at least a week died down, he kind of shut down. He’s been known to do that on occasion– hide inside himself when things get to be too much. He wears the mask of the Black heir, responds to direct questions on reflex and doesn’t even remember the question or his answer after, but doesn’t really experience anything. He hid so deep that last time that he didn’t find his way back out until Halloween. He still doesn’t even know what really pulled him out. He’d basically been missing since August and then suddenly he was back, he was in his dorm room with Barty and Evan.
The two other slytherins had been bickering, as they always tend to do. Barty had said offhand, trying to win his argument with Evan, “Regulus thinks I’m entertaining, don’t you Regulus?” Regulus responded with a cheeky, “Depends on the day,” and both the other boys had frozen in shock.
Their shift in demeanor had been so abrupt Regulus had taken half a step backwards. “Sorry, but it’s true. What’s the big deal?”
Evan seemed incapable of speech, and even Barty took several moments to open his mouth.
“Did you just make a joke?” Barty asked incredulously.
Regulus still didn’t know what the big deal was. Almost any words out of his mouth were sarcastic comments.
“Yes?” he responded, utterly confused.
“Welcome back to the land of the living mate–Want to tell us where the hell you’ve been?”
And then they explained to him that he had basically been a walking corpse all term, barely eating or speaking. Definitely not making jokes.
Sirius’s birthday was three days later. He had sent the note on a whim, knowing Sirius probably wouldn’t come given what had happened that summer– what Regulus had thought had happened that summer. But it still hurt to watch his relationship with his brother officially go up in flames.
“Sorry,” Regulus whispered softly, but not insincerely. “I wasn’t really with it in the beginning of term, I don’t remember that. Evan told me it had been like living with a zombie until Halloween.” He tries to say it lightly, like a joke, but he doesn’t manage it.
Now that Regulus knows his mother stole his memories, that might explain why he shut down so completely for so long. It was usually an intentional choice of when to hide within himself and when to come back out, but not that time.
“Jesus, Reggie. Why–”
“I hated you,” Regulus interrupts. He doesn’t want to hear what Sirius was going to say. Not right now. “I think I still hate you.”
“Yeah, right back at you,” Sirius says darkly, though he doesn’t attempt to leave or throw a punch.
“I thought you just up and left. Left me there. With them. Without even saying goodbye. I thought you put all of your responsibilities as the heir on my shoulders without even thinking about it. And on the one hand, how could I blame you? I pointed my wand at you, I hurt you, just like they wanted me to. But I still hated you for leaving me behind.”
“And now I come to find out, that didn’t even happen. You didn’t leave me. I went back there all on my own. But I think I still hate you. Because that wasn’t the first time you left me. You’ve done nothing but leave me since I was ten years old. But now I hate me a little bit more too. Because I went back. You did the only thing I ever wanted you to do. You asked me to stay with you. And I didn’t. I couldn’t have, not if you were really going to get out. And I hate you for that too. So don’t sit here and say anything that will make me hate either of us anymore than I already do.”
Regulus can feel that his cheeks are wet with tears, which is odd since he doesn’t feel the tightness in his throat that usually comes with crying. He couldn’t even pinpoint when the tears had started falling.
Fuck, how much did she mess up my brain? Regulus thinks. How the fuck am I supposed to win a war, when I can’t even fucking think straight?!
“Okay,” Sirius says.
And then he’s moving towards Regulus, crawling up the bed to sit beside him by the pillows. And then he’s putting his arms around Regulus. And then Regulus truly falls apart.
He can’t find any air. Which is stupid, he knows it’s stupid. There's literally air all around him. Except there isn’t. All there is is Sirius and pillows and curtains. Regulus wants to kick and scream and escape and breathe– he would really like to fucking breathe. But his mind won’t let him. Or maybe Sirius won’t let him. His stupid brother is stronger than he looks. And the air won’t let him because apparently it has decided to wink out of existence.
- I can’t believe she took my memories
- James Potter? I was secretly kissing James Potter?
- He didn’t want to leave me
He didn’t want to leave me. He didn’t want to leave me. Not the last time, at least. Maybe not anytime. He didn’t want to leave me. And now he’s here. He found me. He didn’t want to leave me. I hope he doesn’t leave me– and then Regulus closes his eyes, still wondering where all the air went, and falls asleep in Sirius’s arms like he’s four years old again.
—----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Regulus wakes up in the dark. He wakes up in a confined space he can’t make sense of and he’s too warm. He tries to move away from whatever object he’s up against, but as soon as he does hands are pulling him back in.
No. No. Please no. Regulus panics. Hands. Whose hands? Why are there hands touching him? He’s not in the lake– he’s too warm to be drowning in a lake. And the hands aren’t scratching. Not the lake, he’s not in the lake.
No drowning to death today, that’s a future problem.
But there are still hands on him.
He throws himself away from the hands, away from the object– the body. Away from the heat. And the hands release him and he goes tumbling through the curtains to the floor.
He leans against the cool, stone wall as he catches his breath. He looks up at the bed, the hands that had been holding him. He sighs in relief.
The fingers have chipped black polish on the nails. A few more breaths and Regulus can remember exactly how he got himself into this situation. It was just Sirius. Sirius came to check on him and apparently stayed with him all night.
And he sleeps like the dead– all the commotion Regulus generated didn’t seem to disturb his brother at all. Regulus adds that to his list of things to hate.
Unfortunately, someone else did notice the commotion. James Potter is standing a few feet away in red pajamas, pushing his glasses into place. His dark hair is even more unruly than normal. Regulus really hates his life.
“Reg?” the other boy whispers. “Are you okay?”
“People should really learn to stop asking me that,” Regulus whispers back sarcastically. “They never like the answer.”
James chuckles. “Yeah, fair enough.”
The other boy takes a few steps closer, until he can see around the curtains of the bed.
“Oh,” he says. “Sirius freaked you out with all his cuddling didn’t he?”
Regulus just stares. Based on the words alone, he would think the other boy was making a joke, but his tone was full of concern, maybe a little regret too, though Regulus doesn’t know what for.
“Can I sit with you?” James asks
Regulus just stares some more. Unlike Sirius, James doesn’t take the lack of response as an invitation, but he doesn’t move away either. Regulus locks eyes with the other boy, trying to figure out what’s going on, but comes up short. Eventually he nods.
James sits cross legged next to Regulus, careful not to let their shoulders touch as he leans back against the wall.
“Wanna talk about it?” the older boy asks
“Talk about what?” Regulus replies
“I don’t know, whatever you might want to talk about?”
“No,” Regulus says. He really doesn’t want to open a can of worms.
Any of the cans of worms. There could be multiple. The lack of memories, the lack of James Potter memories specifically, the freak out that led him to tumble out of bed in the middle of the night, his mother, his brother, the war, his life. All of it is a can of worms he doesn’t want to deal with.
“Okay,” is all James says. And then he sits there. Quietly. For many, many moments. James Potter sits quietly with him, without fidgeting or speaking or doing absolutely anything except breathe. Regulus wasn’t aware the boy was capable of such a feat.
Regulus knows he probably shouldn’t say anything– saying anything is bound to open up at least one of the aforementioned cans of worms– but he’s sleep deprived and his brain isn’t working right and he says it anyways.
“I don’t like it.”
James remains quiet, but turns his face to look at Regulus. He can see hazel flecks in the older boy’s eyes, like confetti falling through the deep brown. Regulus can’t remember ever being close enough to see James Potter's eyes, but he knows he has been before. He hates that too.
“I don’t like knowing that there are things missing from my head.”
James winces. “I can’t even imagine. I’m so sorry this is happening to you. I know that doesn’t help anything, but it’s still true.”
James is still looking at him. He has a scar above his eyebrow.
“Even more than that, I don’t like that you probably know things about me that I don’t remember ever telling you. I don’t like not knowing how much you know.”
“I’ll tell you anything you want to know– all you have to do is ask,” James says earnestly. He has a lot of freckles up close. His skin is too dark to see them from afar, but they’re all over his nose and spill out onto his cheeks as well.
Regulus wants to take him up on the offer, but he doesn’t know what to ask first. He should probably ask what they were to each other, exactly how intimate they had gotten. But he’s pretty sure he doesn’t want to know just yet. He should probably ask what secrets he knows of Regulus’s, but he can’t stand the thought of James knowing anything about him. He genuinely feels nauseous just thinking about it. He should probably ask what Sirius yelled at him earlier tonight. But he doesn’t want to know if he’s the reason his brother lost his best friend. Regulus really does hate Sirius, but he knows there is love for his brother in the mix too. And he also can’t deny that James Potter helped save Sirius’s life, so being responsible for their friendship falling apart wouldn’t be a fun revelation to have right now.
But really, Regulus doesn’t want to know anything from James. Because anything he learns from James he will learn through the rose-colored glasses James has from his idyllic childhood and school popularity and Gryffindor friendships. Anything he learns from James Potter’s words wouldn’t be the same information as if he had witnessed it himself.
What Regulus really wants to know is what he himself thought about all of the things he’s missing. What did James do to make Regulus want to kiss him, maybe even fall in love with him? What did he learn about James that potentially led him to reveal parts of himself he’s never shown anyone before? What information is he missing about both James and Sirius that would give him the ability to guess exactly how bad off the best friends’ relationship is right now?
So Regulus doesn’t ask James any questions.
“Thanks,” is all he replies with. And then he turns his head away from the other boy to stare across the room. He can feel James’s gaze leave him as he turns to follow suit. They continue to sit quietly together, neither saying a word, as their classmates sleep semi-soundly around them.