So Tired
“Regulus?” came a soft voice from behind him, and Regulus froze in his tracks. He turned slowly around, and yes, he’d heard right, there stood James Potter. He looked a little lost, a little unsure, but he was there all the same. Regulus could barely believe it. James Potter, talking to him? They’d stolen a few words here and there the year before, but now, after everything… Regulus could barely believe it.
“What is it?” he managed to ask in a reasonably even voice.
“I just…” James hesitated, “I wanted to apologise, about everything. I feel like… Well, I just don’t want to come between you and Sirius.”
So that was why he’d wanted to talk. He was sorry for ‘everything’, but what exactly had Potter done? It was Sirius who had run away. It was Sirius who had abandoned Regulus. He was the one who should have been apologising.
“He really loves you,” continued James.
Then why did he leave? Regulus didn’t dare say the words. Couldn’t bring himself too. For some inexplicable, impulsive reason, Regulus got the feeling that a cutting remark like that would make a boy like James burst into tears, and he couldn’t bear to see him cry like that.
“He misses you terribly,” he added, “I just… I wish we would all be friends again,” he was fiddling with the edge of his shirt. Regulus despised fiddling. “Remus misses you,” a beat, “I miss you.”
Regulus felt like he’d been punched in the gut. James Potter honest-to-Merlin missed him.
“You miss me?” he blurted out. The words had barely finished forming in his mind before he was asking them.
“Of course,” replied James earnestly.
Another punch to the gut.
“Look,” sighed James, when Regulus remained silent, “I know it’s strange coming from me, and you probably don’t even want to hear it, but please, please, can you try and make up with Sirius? I can tell it’s really bothering him…”
Bothering him? Bothering him? Regulus seethed with envy. Didn’t it matter how he felt?
“No,” he returned simply, his voice flat and final. James looked pained. “Did he put you up to this?” asked Regulus jealously.
“No! No, of course not!” denied James. It seemed like the truth.
So James Potter had tracked him down all of his own accord, then. All just to speak to him. Well, all just out of concern for Sirius.
“Is there anything else you’d like to say to me?” he asked, a tone of finality in his voice. He was about done with the conversation.
“Um, you look really nice,” James blurted out.
“What?” replied Regulus blankly.
“You look pretty today,” repeated James, “Not that you don’t look pretty everyday! You do, you just look really– especially nice today.”
Regulus blinked. He was so shocked he wasn’t even embarrassed. Where on earth had that come from?
“Goodbye, Potter,” he said, turning to go.
“Bye!” James called after him, rather pathetically.
***
He headed back to the Slytherin dormitories, the encounter refusing to leave his mind, not even for a moment. James bloody Potter, talking to him . Asking after him.
Regulus was furious. The gall of it. What right did Potter have to ask him things like that? What was he thinking? He wasn’t, Regulus reminded himself. James was like Sirius; he didn’t think. He just did.
I miss you. The words played on his mind.
He entered the Common Room and spotted his friends on one of the leather sofas by the tall windows, beyond which was the great, green expanse of the lake. Sunlight filtered in through the water and into the large room. Regulus could see Pandora trying to speak with a mermaid who was on the other side of the glass.
“Look who it is,” proclaimed Barty as he approached. Regulus didn’t grace his statement with a response, only sat down on the sofa opposite him.
“Where’ve you been?” wondered Evan.
“Library,” he explained.
“Dorcas is looking for you,” trilled Barty, getting up to come and sit next to Regulus.
“Where is she?”
“Here she comes now.”
Regulus looked over and there she was, making her way over to the group, her long dark braids swinging lightly.
“Well?” he asked her, once she was close enough.
“Maybe we ought to talk privately…” she suggested.
“He doesn’t mind,” answered Barty for him, wrapping his arms around Regulus’ waist in a loose hug. Regulus quickly extricated himself from the embrace, he wasn’t trying to get himself murdered by Evan Rosier. Not today, anyway.
“I don’t mind,” he said for himself.
“Well,” began Dorcas delicately, sitting on the edge of the black leather couch, “Sirius would really like to talk with you. He wants to make up.”
Not again. Regulus’ jaw tensed. He felt as if it might snap off, he was so wound up. He was tired of this. So, so tired.
“He’s not ready yet,” came Pandora’s ghostly voice from behind him. He turned around, and there she was, decked out in her usual array of colourful skirts, necklaces and bangles. Today her eye shadow was a light green, and she’d stuck three gems on her left cheek, though it was unclear whether that was intentional or not.
Dorcas pressed her lips together, but said nothing more of the matter, only gave a soft little nod.
“Want to get hammered?” asked Barty, breaking the silence. His arms were snaking their way around Regulus’ waist again. Regulus held him at arm's length, a hand pushing against his chest.
“It’s a Monday,” said Dorcas, dryly.
“So?” whined Barty, “He clearly needs a drink.”
“I do not,” huffed Regulus, still trying to keep Barty at bay.
“Sure you don’t, sweetheart.”
Evan blasted Barty to the other end of the sofa, and Regulus finally had some personal space. He straightened his shirt compulsively.
“Come on,” decided Pandora, who had circled round to the front of the couch and was holding out a ringed hand, “Let’s go for a walk, Reg.”
It wasn’t a suggestion, though she had said it lightly enough. He took her hand and she dragged him up and they were off. Pandora didn’t mention Sirius once for the whole of their walk, only gave his hand little squeezes now and then. Regulus was very grateful for it.
***
“I hope you haven’t come to talk to me about my brother,” warned Regulus darkly. James Potter was back, this time lingering around Regulus as he returned books to the library shelves.
“Er…” He clearly had. Typical , thought Regulus.
“Whatever it is, I don’t want to hear it.”
James shifted uncomfortably beside him.
“Well, I just–
“If all you want to talk to me about it my brother, then don’t bother talking to me at all.” He turned to leave, making his way swiftly down the bookshelves, hoping James would call him back.
“Wait!” exclaimed James in a high whisper. Regulus fought a smirk. “I’m sorry,” said James, catching up to him, “It’s not my place to say, I know. I don’t want to annoy you. It’s like I said, I just want us to be friends again.”
Regulus’ jaw hardened. “Again?” he asked cruelly. Hurt flashed in James’ eyes and he instantly felt regret.
“What, you don’t think we were friends? Don’t you like me?” wondered James. Regulus felt his heart lurch into his throat and swallowed, hard.
“I despise you,” he cut back, sending his last book flying up to its place on the top shelf.
“Then why talk to me?” pressed James.
“I do it out of sympathy,” quipped Regulus, now searching the many shelves for a new read.
“You like me,” smirked Potter, and Regulus frowned darkly, “If you really despised me, you’d tell me to go away.”
He was in half a mind to say it. Go away. It would be as simple as that, but he couldn't bring himself to see the hurt flare up in James’ features again, so he bit his tongue.
“How do you know?” he said instead.
“I know you,” replied James, grinning that lop-sided smile. Merlin, this boy was tugging at his heart strings. Regulus pretended to be engrossed in the title of a book in front of him.
“Do you?” he countered, sliding the thick tome out to flick through it.
No, James didn’t know him. Not really. He didn’t know the depths of cruelty and brokenness that Regulus could stoop to. He hadn’t the slightest idea.
“I could get to know you better,” he suggested. What a mistake , thought Regulus.
“And why would you do that?” he asked, catching sight of a book he’d been searching for. It was several shelves up, and Regulus had to get on tip-toe for his fingers to brush the spine. It was too high. How embarrassing.
“I’m curious,” supplied James, still smiling, as if it were the most natural thing in the world. He reached up and easily plucked the book Regulus had been reaching for from the shelf, holding it out to him. “Tell me about yourself.”
“Absolutely not,” he replied bluntly, practically snatching the book from James’ outstretched hand. He carried on through the library, making his way back to his bag. James followed eagerly.
“Please?” he asked. Regulus looked back at him, over his shoulder. He looked so earnest, so genuine and wholesome. He really did want to know about Regulus. No one ever wanted to know about Regulus. He walked a bit further, trying not to do anything stupid.
“What do you want to know?” he asked eventually (which was about the stupidest thing he could have done).
“What’s your favourite colour?”
That hadn’t been what he’d been expecting. In truth, he wasn’t sure what he’d been expecting, but it wasn’t that.
“Green,” he replied after a while. Was that really his favourite colour? He loved the green of the dormitory he shared with his friends, but hated the green in the wallpaper at Grimmauld Place.
“You’re such a Slytherin,” teased James as they reached the table where Regulus had been sitting.
“You’re a complete Gryffindor,” he returned, beginning to pack up his things.
“Ok, next question then,” said James, “If you had to be a different House, which would you be?”
Regulus fought off a smile. “Well,” he mused, unsure why he was even entertaining these questions in the first place, “I was a hat-stall between Slytherin and Ravenclaw, so I suppose I’d be in Ravenclaw.”
“Interesting,” replied James, and he seemed as though he really did find this interesting. “I’d be a Hufflepuff.”
“That’s embarrassing,” quipped Regulus.
“What’s wrong with Hufflepuff?” scorned James, looking slightly upset at this dismissal. Regulus’ only answer was to quirk an eyebrow, which made James laugh. “Which other House d’you think I’d be, then?”
“You’re too much of a Gryffindor,” he replied, picking up his bag and pushing in his chair. “They’d never be able to put you anywhere else.”
“Maybe I could be in Ravenclaw with you,” suggested James. Regulus began to set off back to his dorm.
“Dream on, Potter.”
“Fine, next question,” he decided, “Why did the hat decide to put you in Slytherin and not Ravenclaw in the end?”
Regulus faltered in his brisk walk. His mind was plunged into the past, into the evening where he’d entered Hogwarts for the very first time and sat on the small stool, the sorting hat falling over his eyes. Why had he been put in Slytherin? Because Regulus had seen what had happened to Sirius when he came home after being sorted into the wrong house. Because Regulus had to be the perfect son to make up for the imperfect one. Because Regulus had asked the Sorting Hat, begged it even, to put him in Slytherin.
His plea to keep up the Black Family façade and follow what his parents wanted to avoid conflict had been deemed ‘cunning’ enough to get him into the infamous House of the snake. Perhaps it had also been his ambition to play the part of the perfect son, no matter the cost. It was an ambitious goal indeed. Either way, he wasn’t in Ravenclaw, and he wasn’t a traitor either.
“I think that’s enough questions,” he told James curtly, as they approached the library entrance.
“Oh come on,” urged the other boy.
“I’m afraid you only get three,” he teased, coming to a stop in the hallway where they would have to part ways.
“Ok then,” agreed Potter, biting his lip softly, “I’ll ask you another three tomorrow.”
Regulus could’ve died, right there, in the hallway. He turned and left in the direction of the dungeons.
“Bye!” called out James.
“Goodbye,” he replied without turning around.