You know that feeling when you feel like the air in your lungs isn't going out as well as it is going in? Like if you were drowning? You start to feel dizzy and your vision starts to blurry, do you know that feeling? No? Well, it is called a panic attack. And Regulus Black would like to call himself an expert in that area. He has had them for most of his life, when he was younger his brother would help him to either avoid them or confront them; Sirius taught him how to go through them.
But right now, he didn’t have his brother with him. He only had left what he taught him.
It’s been a while since Regulus had one or allowed himself to have one, but right now he can’t help it.
“This is going to be so cool,” Barty says, jumping up and down in excitement. Cool isn’t the word Regulus would use. Frightening, more like.
“Yeah,” is all he says.
Breathe, Regulus, just breathe. He says to himself. In and out.
“Wonder what mine would be,” Barty keeps talking. “You know, ‘cause I’m not really afraid of many things,” he says with a smirk. Regulus knows Barty is afraid of many things, but he gets why his friend is saying that. He is just trying to be tough, not let the real fear appear in front of him. Regulus wishes it was that simple.
“Such a dirty liar, Barty,” Evan says, shaking his head.
Regulus knows exactly what he is going to get. That’s the problem. When the professor told them what today’s session was going to be about, he immediately panicked. He tried to find an excuse to leave the class early, anything that isn’t going to expose him like that. The air started to feel short in his lungs, everything was getting blurry.
Five people were before he had to see the boggart. His deepest fear. By now he had heard about fifteen "riddikulus," and a lot of laughter, but he can’t manage even a smile. Barty and Evan seem to be doing alright. What he did manage to do is ask the professor if he could go to the loo, once he was out, he didn’t go there, he knew where to go instead. Who to look for.
He needs Sirius.
He started walking to the Great Hall, his feet moving but his mind doesn’t recall making that happen. He feels like his body is in control of his mind, it is so terrifying. He knows where he is going, but he can’t really see it.
When he stops it’s because he is in front of his brother, his back is facing Regulus, so he doesn’t actually know he is there, behind him. Sirius is laughing about something that maybe James is saying (he can’t really tell if James is even there, but he takes a wild guess). He tries to talk but he feels like his voice has been snatched out of him. He thinks it is because of the missing air in his lungs. He panics even more at the thought of him not being in control of himself.
“Regulus?” someone says, he believes it is Remus. That makes Sirius turn around to see him.
“Reg?” his brother asks and he feels his eyes watering, he can’t control the panic any longer, the panic is controlling him. And Sirius must have seen that, because his face changes a bit and he gets up quickly and puts an arm around his shoulders and without saying anything, he is leading him out of the Great Hall. Not even saying anything to his friends, as if Regulus was the only thing that matters in that moment.
When they are out of reach of everyone, Regulus notices that they are in an empty classroom, he manages to sit in one corner, without even thinking about it. The tears start to fall down his eyes against his will. He feels the concern in Sirius, but he also feels the warmth of his arms hugging him. Suddenly, Regulus feels like he is five years old again. He feels so vulnerable and fragile. He feels small. But just as when Regulus was five years old, there was a six-year-old Sirius, his older brother, making him feel safe and protected. Merlin, he misses him so much.
He feels like he is going to pass out, his air is nowhere to be found in his lungs. His head is hurting and spinning. He closes his eyes trying to make it stop. He is desperately trying to make the air go into his lungs but it is useless. “Sirius, please,” he manages to say, his voice is rough, his throat is dry. “Make it stop,” he whispers and he feels Sirius hugging him tighter, then resting his forehead against Regulus’. They used to do that whenever the other was crying when they were children. But they are still children. Sirius may be out of age but they are still children. Deep down, next to Sirius he feels like he is still a little boy.
“You are safe right now, Reg,” Sirius says and something inside of Regulus, his heart stopped to listen, his mind choosing to hear the voice that truly calms it. “I’m here, alright?” he keeps talking. “I’m here, Reg, just breathe,” Sirius says. Breathe? Okay, he can do that, he thinks. It is scary how good the air coming in feels. Like coming out for air after drowning. “That’s it, keep doing it,” Sirius says, their foreheads still touching.
It takes Regulus six minutes and a lot of caring words from Sirius to finally be able to breathe in a rhythmic way and for his head to stop spinning. Although his head still hurts, Sirius isn’t backing up or anything. They stay together a couple more minutes, Regulus starting to feel ashamed of what happened. Is Sirius going to tell his friends? Or anyone? What will he think about Regulus? It was pathetic, honestly.
“Are you feeling better?” Sirius asks, cutting the train of thoughts Regulus was having. He just nods. “Good,” he says nodding as well. “What happened, Reg?” Sirius backs up a little, just so he could see him in the eyes. Never pulling away from the hug.
Regulus remained silent, he doesn’t know how to explain this to anyone, because nobody ever seems to understand the magnitude of it. But who else if not Sirius? He knows. Vividly, Sirius saw it, Sirius felt it. Sirius lived it.
“Today…” he clears his voice. “Today at the class we were going to practise the riddikulus spell against a boggart…” he explains, Sirius only looks at him allowing him to keep talking. “I know you know how a boggart works, what it is,” Regulus says.
“Yeah, your deepest fears,” he says grimacing.
“Yeah,” his voice sounds so tiny he hates it. “Everyone was either excited or curious to find out what it was going to be,” he shuts his eyes. “The problem is I’ve always known what mine is,” he opens his eyes and looks at Sirius eyes, pleading, like if he needed to be saved or like he was asking for something. “I couldn’t, Sirius, it wasn’t even my turn,” he feels a tear roll down his cheek, he quickly cleans it. “I just couldn’t face her.”
Everything in Sirius goes still, his touch is more tense. He knows who Regulus is talking about. Sirius lived it.
“And I couldn’t let everyone see the truth, Sirius,” he says looking away. Sirius is going to ask something, but Regulus talks first. “No, I’m not trying to protect her. But it is just not theirs to see, it isn’t something they get to know,” he says. “It isn’t theirs to judge,” he feels angry now.
“Regulus,” Sirius starts talking with a soft voice, but everything in him is so rigid. “Why are you still there?”
“So that you won’t.”
“Oh, Reg,” he could hear the heartbreak in Sirius’ voice. “You can’t be there, I won’t allow it anymore,” Regulus wants to laugh.
“It’s not up to you anymore, Sirius, this was my choice, you don’t get to take that away from me,” he says sharply.
“I’m not trying to take anything away from you, I’m trying to protect you,” he replies with the same tone Regulus used. Exactly the same. They may have distanced themselves from each other, but they are brothers nevertheless. Nothing and no one will ever change that.
“And I’m trying to protect you!” Why can’t he see that he doesn’t care about himself as long as Sirius is okay and away from all the danger?
“Regulus, it’s breaking me seeing you like this,” he gestures at him. “Living in constant fear. It breaks me more than whatever she ever did to me,” he says in such a serious tone. Regulus wanted to cry again. “What are they doing to you, Reg?” His voice softens but his tone is still serious.
“They…” Regulus breathes in. When he lets out the air the tears are falling down again. “They are making me join him. They want me to join him, Sirius,” he is crying so hard again, he is sobbing. He hopes Sirius can see the terror behind his eyes. “I don’t want to, I really don’t want to, but they- they say I have to, but I really don’t want to, I- I just can’t join him. He is pure evil and I like- I like to believe I am not like that, like them… like her,” he mumbles.
He keeps crying and his brother just holds him through it all, when he stops crying is when Sirius finally says something.
“You aren’t going back there.”
It isn’t a question or an order. It was a fact. A decision being made.
“I- I have to, Sirius,” he says.
“No, you don’t,” he says sharply. “You say that you are protecting me, but they can’t touch me anymore, Reg. I’m in custody of the Potters. The only way they can keep hurting me is when they hurt you and they know that,” Sirius says and the pain can be heard in his voice. “You want to protect me? Get the hell out of that house.”
Regulus does want to protect Sirius, more than anything. He wants to be able to provide the same security Sirius did when they were younger.
“Where would I even go?”
“With me,” Sirius answers as if it was the most obvious thing ever.
“Sirius, you live with James and his family, I don’t-”
“They will take you in, you may not know James or his parents, but I do, believe me, they will.”
Regulus just nods.
He is doing it, he is going to live with Sirius, he can do that. He is going to leave the torment behind.
He feels like he is breathing. Actually breathing. It’s then when he realises that he has been measuring his breaths since the moment Sirius left the house, but now he lets the air come in and out, freely.
Months later after the incident (and a detention for skipping the class), it is the last day of his fifth year, he and Sirius are alone in the classroom. Not even James (who hadn’t left his side since they talked to him about leaving his house) or Remus (who Regulus really like and actually has started to consider him a friend) or Peter (who makes him laugh so much he forgets all his problems) or even Lily (who has been surprisingly supportive) or Barty and Evan (who have been like rocks to Regulus, supporting him and encouraging him to be free) are there. Just the two brothers.
“You’re ready?” Sirius asks next to the giant wardrobe.
“Not really,” he answers and Sirius only laughs. He opens the door of the wardrobe with a flick of his hand.
Walburga Black steps out of the wardrobe, her black dress without a single wrinkle, her hair perfectly held in a bun. She starts to walk to him, Regulus instinctively takes a step back wanting to be far from her. He then notices that she has her wand in her wand, the way she holds it is a sign of her going to throw a spell at him. But he has been good, why is she going to punish him? He hasn’t done anything wrong. Please, please, please, don’t, not again, please. It’s all he can think of. His eyes shift from his mother to his brother, Sirius is nodding and his eyes telling him ‘you got this’, but his hand is holding his wand like he is ready to fight if he needs to.
Regulus got this. He does.
Walburga is about to lift her wand but Regulus does it first, “Riddikulus!” he says and her mother is now holding a flower in her hand instead of her wand, her hair is no longer in a bun but it is dropping off her shoulders with small white flowers all over it, her black dress is now a bright pink one, it is less scary for sure.
Sirius watches from the side, tilting his head, he snorts. “She is still scary, shame” he scoffs.
“Can I ask you something?” Regulus asks Sirius, once the boggart is back in the wardrobe. They are sitting on the floor looking at the ugly wardrobe shaking a bit.
“Sure,” Sirius shrugs.
“What’s yours?” He has been wanting to ask him for a couple of weeks now.
“A year ago, I would have said something completely different to what it is today,” he says. Regulus looks at him expecting more. Sirius sighs. “It was also her, a year ago, but like exactly what she was wearing and the expression on her face when she threw the first crucio at me that night.”
Regulus remembers that night.
“What is it now?” he asks instead, no longer wanting to think or talk about that.
Sirius looks down, but despite the little strands of hair covering his face, Regulus can see there’s a small sad smile in his face, he shakes his head and only says, “Me.”