Chapter 9
Regulus didn't panic easily. He had a temper, sure. Could lash out in anger or hurt sometimes, but he didn't panic. He kept his mind clear.
Except, right now his mind wasn't clear. He still wasn't panicking, obviously, but there was a strange feeling of unease creeping up his spine and his foggy brain kept pointing out that maybe the reason he wasn't panicking right now was simply that his body was incapable of it anymore.
It was a reasonable assumption because as far as he could see there really was a lot of blood. It had soaked every piece of fabric Regulus had pressed to it, slowly but surely. And it was still running down his torso, just a trickle really, but it had been trickling for a long time. A really long time.
They should have closed up by now. He knew that. Of course he knew. But he'd tried every healing spell he knew, taken every potion he had and the one he hadn't tried yet was next to the door on his desk. He thought about reaching it, about convincing his body to get up from where it was slumped against the bed and get that last piece of hope. But his brain was more than sluggish and his body was worse.
His parents were out. They were always out when he did this, he made sure of it. Nobody would find him until the next day and he was pretty sure he would not live to see said next day.
He would have laughed if he could have: wasn't it ironic? The only Black heir left, killed by his own magic because he was trying to get rid of his tits.
If Sirius were here ... Or James. Sweet, kind James, who would help in an instant ... He hissed as he pressed his hands onto the two bleeding slits right beneath his chest. And then he froze. The mirror.
The goddamn mirror. That he hadn't transformed or used even once since he'd arrived here almost two weeks ago. The mirror that could get him in contact with Potter. The mirror that was laying ... on his bedside table. As a book. Fuck.
But that was his only chance.
He had to go slow or he'd pass out. But he also really had to hurry because he wasn't sure he'd wake up again once he did.
With a soft noise of pain his hands managed to push him into a more seated position and he shimmied upwards slowly, resting his tired head onto the bed every few seconds. Maybe he could close his eyes, just for a minute ... He was almost there. He grabbed for the book, close enough to reach, but also too close to see up onto the nightstand.
When he heard a toppling sound he thought for a heartbeat he might have pushed it over the edge to the other side. But then a purple bound book fell into his lap and he suppressed a sob.
Mumbling hurried words he pressed his wand onto the book and suddenly he held the shard of sharp glass. When he started croaking James's name over and over into the window between spaces his heart sank.
James had no reason to carry that thing with him since he hadn't tried to make contact. It was early morning and if Regulus knew anything it was that if you shared a house, a life, with Sirius Black you didn't go to bed before midnight.
He closed his eyes. His throat so dry and his voice so hoarse, he almost missed the little sounds coming from the shard clutched in his hand. There were voices, distant laughter.
"Regulus? Regulus!" He jerked up the mirror staring at James who grinned broadly. "Hey! It's nice to- What?" Suddenly he was gone from the frame again and the unmistakable voice of Regulus's brother drifted from it. They argued for a minute and Regulus used the time to sit up a little straighter, force his eyes a little more open.
"Reg?" The background noises from the mirror had subsided and he tipped it back towards himself, quickly pinching his cheeks to get some colour into them. Potter gave a sharp inhale and it took Regulus at least two beats too long to piece together the fact that his hand was covered in blood. Which was now most definitely on his face. Well, so much for colour.
"Reg, what the hell, what's going on? Are you hurt, is that your blood?!"
He took a deep breath. "Need you ... to get my ... my parents." He'd need to beg on his knees for forgiveness but right now it was the only option.
"Your parents?" Potter's eyes were widened in shock. "What the hell? Where are they? Are you alright? What happened?"
Regulus closed his eyes for a moment. He was so tired. Why wouldn't Potter do as he was told?
"I'm coming to you."
That sentence had his eyes open immediately. He shook his head frantically and regretted it when he became violently nauseous.
No. You can't see me like this. You can't know. And you can't help me anyways. Was what he wanted to say, but when he opened his mouth it croaked out ".. wards."
"I'm keyed in on your wards. Sirius got me in once." James said. He was moving quickly now, throwing glances at Regulus's ashen face from time to time and gathering things Regulus couldn't see.
He stopped suddenly his expression serious. "Should I bring Sirius?" Regulus couldn't move anymore, couldn't speak, could barely think. He hoped that James could read the answers somewhere on his face and was flooded with relief when James gave a curt nod. "Okay. Hold on Regulus. I'll apparate. I'll be there in just a minute. Hold on."
He did. He tried. But he still had to pry his eyes open when a sound came from outside his bedroom door and he had no idea how much time had passed.
When Potter opened the door he froze and Regulus managed a grin. Oh how he wished he could eternalise that expression; pure shock on James Potter's face. A dream. A nightmare. He must look like one too, sitting in a pool of blood, grinning manically.
Potter cursed. He stepped inside, looked at the mess on the floor, at Regulus and then dropped to his knees right into the pool of blood. When he reached for the hem of Regulus's shirt every alarm bell in his head went off. He jerked away, his hands uselessly clutching the wounds underneath the soaked clothing.
"Reggie, please, please let me ... I need to see it. What happened? Please."
There was no other option. He knew that. Even if he could convince Potter to go get his parents he wouldn't be able to stay conscious, possibly alive, that long. He inched his fingers towards the hem of his shirt, slowly exposing his blood covered belly. He looked away.
Willing the tears not to drop from his eyes but once he pulled the fabric over the open skin he hissed, bunched it up to keep himself at least partially covered and looked at James.
James took in the situation. His eyes flickered from his chest to his face and back before he turned, rummaged through the giant brown bag he'd brought and pressed gauze onto the bleeding slits with more pressure than Regulus had managed for some time.
"How long have you been bleeding?"
"Dunno'," he managed, his breathing ragged. He was trying to watch James's face, gauge his reaction, his thoughts, anything. But his eyes were growing heavier and heavier, the last bit of adrenaline induced frenzy fading away.
"You don't know. Long though?" James asked and Regulus managed a slow nod.
"What were you doing?"
"Off ... wanted them ... off ..." he tried to gesture to his chest but it only translated into weird spasms of his hands. James immediately grabbed them, held them still. He had his intense gaze focused on Regulus.
"How Reggie. What where you using ... Regulus please, oh Merlin ..." Regulus' felt his eyes flutter close, his mind slipping from him.
With his last bit of strength he let his right hand fall from his body. It hit the ground with a hollow sound, knuckle to wood, but he didn't recognise the pain. He just hoped it was close enough for Potter to find the book hidden under his bed. Otherwise the irony of his death might finally be complete.
With that last thought, his mind went dark.
~~~
There was something cool pressed to his lips, a silky freshness running down his throat when he came to. Regulus blinked, tried not to cough and became very quickly very aware of the large hand cradling his head and James's gaze focused on his face.
James moved the bowl from his lips, put it away but didn't let go of Regulus. Instead his thumb gently wiped at Regulus's mouth. He was so close, eyes sweeping over his face.
"How are you feeling?" He whispered and Regulus swallowed.
"Bad." He croaked. "Pretty bad."
He was put down carefully, still wincing at the stabbing pain in his chest. "What did you do?" He asked and a little part of him was thrilled even now by how deep his voice sounded. It felt like someone had put sandpaper down his throat, but he could live with that, he had to.
"I bandaged you. Tried to stop the bleeding with spells first and used potions then." James's own voice was rough and he looked tired.
Regulus felt and immediately squashed a stab of guilt. He couldn't feel guilty. Or thankful for that matter. He had just given James Potter ammunition so great it was basically a bomb. Nuclear. Devastating. Catastrophic.
He didn't just know Regulus's worst secret. He had seen it. Had seen him.
Regulus knew that Potter was a goody-two-shoes at heart. He apparently hadn't outed his friend the goddamn werewolf, but this was different. And, maybe more importantly, Regulus was not his friend.
Regulus was ripped from his spiralling thoughts by James carefully taking his limp hand into his own. It looked pale and small and James covered it with both of his.
"Regulus, what did you do?"