It was three weeks before the start of his sixth year at Hogwarts and Remus had brought all of his things to Potter Manor to prepare for the new term just a day prior. Remus’ summer was average. Alone. No Marauders. His miserable father. Transforming into a werewolf once a month in an excruciating ritual against his will. But mostly he just read textbooks and tried to get ahead for the upcoming term.
Really, coming to the Potters was like a breath of fresh air. Peter was even set to come in a few days also, and the only Marauder that they would be missing was ironically the one that Remus’ heart ached for the most; Sirius. Remus had started dating the black-haired Gryffindor during his fifth year at Hogwarts, but quite honestly it feels like it had been longer than that.
The Sirius that he knew was loud, opinionated, steady, confident, abrasive, loving, compassionate, and has never wavered in his undying loyalty to his friends. The fundamental part of what made Sirius, Sirius, was his undying loyalty and his constant steady and assuring presence. Sirius provided stability without rigid consistency, and it was a combination that Remus never knew he needed until he had it.
The Sirius that Remus sees when Effie screams upon opening the front door of the Potter Manor is not his Sirius. This Sirius’ chest heaves up and down in such a rapid succession that Remus fears he isn't taking in any oxygen at all as he hyper-ventilates. This Sirius, is stuck frozen in between flight and fight as he stares up with imploring eyes that sparkle with tears. This Sirius is cradling a limp body in his arms. Sirius is dressed impeccably in fancily-pressed dress robes that he typically would have sneered at people for wearing while Regulus is wearing blood soaked pajamas. It takes a second for Remus to register that the blood all over both brothers is coming only from one of them.
Effie’s tea cup clatters to the floor and explodes in a million kaleidoscopic shards all over the entryway, but no one seems to mind the mess.
In his arms is Regulus, unconscious, bloody, bruised, and with his arm dangling at a sickening angle. Cradled in Sirius’ arms, the fourteen-year-old appeared so much younger and smaller than his age.
“Help him.” Sirius pleads, blood dribbling from a split lip.
Remus didn't know much about Regulus. From what he understood there were two versions of the complicated and complex youngest Black. There was the scowling, skittish, sarcastic, and sour Regulus Black that practically haunted the halls of Hogwarts. Then, there was shy, smart, and kind Reggie, who Remus only heard about in past tense in rare stories from Sirius’ childhood. Remus had trouble connecting the two humans as one individual.
He knew the past few years, and the most recent one in particular, had put a strain on the relationship between the brothers that threatened to crack and implode under the weight of the tension between them. But Remus also knew that no matter how much arguing, scowling, cursing, brawling, and cold silence passed between the two, he could always tell Sirius cared by how intently his eyes fervently tracked every move of his brother’s when he flew in the sky for Quidditch or how Sirius’ eyes automatically scanned him up and down out of reflex to check for visible injuries after spending the Hols apart. Remus knows that cracked doesn't always mean broken, but he truly had no idea of the scope and magnitude of the relationship between the two and just how far they would go for each other.
“Merlin!” Monty gapes, moving forward to shove everyone who was frozen in shock out of the way in favor of ushering the brothers inside.
“Jesus Pads, get him on the couch. Mom, dad, help!” James springs into action.
Sirius moved like a stiff corpse as he moved inside to deposit his brother on the couch, at Effie’s insistence as Monty ran around trying to find the right potions from their respective cabinets to help heal Regulus.
The extent of the youngest Black brother’s injuries were quite horrific, Remus surmised from the way Effie’s eyes filled with tears and a fierce determination after running a diagnostic spell.
Sirius sat at the edge of the couch, knees curled to his chest and face buried deep within them as he peered up with dead eyes to check that his brother hadn't vanished every so often. Any attempt to touch or examine him was shrugged off and met with hostility immediately.
“I don't have a scratch on me, focus on him.” Sirius growls, and it's true to his word, there has not been a drop of Sirius’ blood spilled that night except for the bead of blood on his lip from his own teeth biting down on it.
Regulus for his own part, didn't open his eyes, flinch, or show any signs of life at all during the entire ordeal.
Monty and Effie were frantically running around and casting spells, charms, and administering potions to the youngest Black sibling. Eventually, when he was considered stable, Effie spelled away his dirty pajamas and replaced them with clean ones. The blood and dirt were magically erased from his skin, leaving him looking cleaner than before. It was almost as if he was sleeping.
Regulus wouldn't even open his eyes for three more days.
It was determined by the Potters that Regulus Black had suffered the use of the cruciatus curse on him for an extended period of time, as well as a myriad of other painful jinxes, hexes, and curses far too dark to ever use on another human, let alone a child.
Monty and Effie were able to heal his physical injuries, but no one would know how that night really affected Regulus until he woke up. On the other hand, how it affected Siirus was plain as day; he wouldn't eat, sleep, or speak to anyone unless begged to. He just sat stoically in his chair and guarded the foot of the guest bed that they had slipped the sleeping Regulus into.
Regulus was a restless sleeper, from what Sirius remembers. He usually snores in his sleep, drools, rolls over constantly and kicks anyone within five feet of him, and even talks some in his sleep when he's really tired. But now, Regulus just lied there, unmoving and unflinching as he slept lifelessly. If it wasn't for the steady rise and fall of Regulus’ chest that Sirius watched like a hawk all day and night, he wouldn't even think his brother was alive.
Remus expected some huge, dramatic, and noisy moment when Regulus woke up. But on the third day, when he walked into the guest bedroom, which James had started calling Regulus' room and had convinced Monty to spell the walls, furniture, and bedding into Slytherin colors, to check on Sirius, Sirius was asleep and Regulus was sitting up a little further in bed with his eyes open, staring off vacantly.
“Oh my god.” Remus blinks.
Regulus does not react, but Sirius bursts out of his chair like someone had set off firecrackers.
“What's the matter?” Sirius splutters, groggy.
“Regulus is awake.” Remus points.
“Regulus is awake? He's awake. MONTY, EFFIE, REG IS AWAKE!” Sirius shouts.
Soon, the room is full with all three Potters, Remus, and the Black brothers.
Everyone is so busy chattering and sighing in relief that no one has noticed that although Regulus’ eyes are scanning the room, he doesn't look at anyone. His eyes are vacant and gray, never focusing on anyone as he stares forward lifelessly.
“How are you feeling darling?” Effie frets, fussing, fluffing, and cooing over Regulus instantly.
“Gave us quite a scare there, bud.” Monty smiles in relief, pulling out some potions.
“Regulus, how are you?” Remus asks.
“Reggie?” Sirius questions, hesitant to touch his brother. The mood dies down instantly when everyone realizes that Regulus hasn't moved an inch or reacted to anyone’s presence in the slightest.
It isn't until Sirius moves in Regulus’ direct eyesight that Regulus’ eyes show any flicker of recognition. The moment he sees Sirius he locks his eyes on him and a single tear rolls down Regulus’ cheek before his eyes flutter back closed.
It was determined, by a professional healer that is a long-time daily friend of the Potters’, that although Regulus was physically fine, his mental and emotional wounds were much deeper than any potion could reach. He zoned out and never zoned back in.
Technically, Regulus was selectively mute, as Effie had determined that there was no physical damage to his vocal cords besides normal strain from screaming, as normal as that could be. He was selecting, on some level, not to speak, so the problem was much more extreme than damage to a vocal box. The solution to that would be laughably easy, as Regulus could still have communicated by nodding, writing, BSL, or even just throwing a porcelain tea cup at the wall when angry and letting it fracture and shatter to express his displeasure. Being that he had physically retained the ability to speak, the lingering question was that, why wouldn't he rather than why couldn't he. Remus questions if he even knew what was happening around him.
Regulus didn't react too much. He didn't respond to pain or any kind, so no one had any idea if he was hurting and just gave him intermittent pain potions as a precaution. Sirius and the Potters were able to judge how comfortable or uncomfortable something made him by studying his body language carefully and forming their hypothesis based on how ever-so-slightly he leaned into or away from any new stimulus or where his eyes were looking. He made no noise, except for his soft sighs or snoring when he slept. No one could tell whether he was hurt, happy, scared, or sad for definitive.
The moment that Regulus heard Sirius’ voice or saw Sirius’ face, his whole demeanor would perk up ever-so-slightly and his eyes would lock and train on Sirius with excitement. Sirius had barely left his brother’s side since arriving at the Potter Manor, needing to be practically threatened and held at wand-point to do simple things like bathe and get fresh air. Monty had charmed a second bed into the room, so Sirius really had no reason to leave. Even though it was his brother who was mute, Sirius didn't speak or react much more to anyone either.
Sirius woke up one night in the middle of the night to see Regulus twitching slightly in his sleep with silent tears streaming down his cheeks, and ever since that night, they gave him dreamless sleep to avoid the nightmares that no one had any idea he was having. Sirius wouldn't hear of taking any himself, despite the fact that his own nightmares woke him up at least three times a night, but the only thing that helped was scrambling over to Regulus’ bedside and feeling his brother’s pulse underneath his finger tips.
Regulus physically could move, but wouldn't often without any prompting and assistance in the matter. He mostly stayed in bed and would sit up or lay down on his own, but didn't love to stand up and walk unless he was being led by the hand. Sure, magic helped some with dressing and bathing, but simple things like feeding were a complex ordeal for Sirius to tackle.
Remus swears the name “Potter” should be synonymous with “saint” in the dictionary because those three were nothing but saints. They hadn't asked to take in two severely traumatized and fragile teenagers off their doorstep and provide for them, but they took it in stride regardless. James and his parents were all the poster people for their love language being a cross between acts of service and physical touch. Having known James since they were eleven, Remus was all too aware of this. While he himself didn't particularly love physical touch, he would always indulge James the moment he flashed his puppy eyes if he was sick or sad.
Remus also knew that the opposite was true of the Black family. Walburga and Orion certainly didn't hug their children when they were sad or rub their backs when they were sick. Sirius had taken a while to adjust between being averse to touch and being touch-starved before things balanced out and he was just status quo. However, from what he has heard and seen, the same was not true for Regulus. At least not before, well before whatever happened to Regulus happened.
Now, Regulus seemed to lean into every touch. He probably would have snarled at Effie calling him baby before, but now he always seemed calmed by her gentle voice and loving demeanor. From what he's heard, Monty and Regulus would have had much in common with their intellect and love of potions. Even though they didn't have those things in common anymore, Regulus also seemed to be drawn to Monty now. The Potter parents read him books, brought him to the living room and helped him cuddle up on the couch with him, brushed through his hair after he showered, made sure he was comfortable and dressed, talked to him, and generally included Regulus in everything they did. Every night, Effie sat with Regulus and brushed through his hair with her fingers and sang the same lullaby she sang to James as a child.
Two mornings ago, Remus had gone downstairs early to find Regulus laying across the Potters, with his head in Effie’s lap as she twirled his hair and read a book to him and his torso in Monty’s lap as he brushed gentle fingertips over the youngest Black’s forearm. Regulus appeared to be completely “zoned-in”, head tilted back and eyes locked on Effie with total captivation as he listened to her tell the story.
Besides Sirius, the person who could understand Regulus the best was James. A simple squint, minute flinch, or the most imperceptible blink meant nothing to Remus, but James could always somehow tell what Regulus needed anyway. James treated Regulus like he was a brand new teddy bear, always cuddling him. He figured out that Regulus practically purred when people played with his hair, so James held onto that information and never forgot it.
Yesterday, Remus had walked into Regulus’ room in search of Sirius, and flicked on the lights. James had practically growled at him to turn it off because Regulus had a headache. Remus glanced at the fourteen-year-old who was laying down with his head tucked into James’ chest as James played with Regulus’ curls and asked how on Earth James could gather that information from Regulus just laying there doing nothing. James had shown him how Regulus squinted and shied away from the light while his body tensed up when the light was on, but honestly Remus had no clue how James even put that together. James also showed him how when he stopped playing with his hair, Regulus’ eyes would narrow like he was annoyed and he would glare right at James until he continued.
It was almost impossible for someone to not like James, he was pure sunshine after all. But Remus knew he was different, he was moody and quiet, quite the antithesis of both Sirius and James’ outgoing and magnetic personality.
The hardest part for Remus of everything that was going on is his relationship with Sirius. Since arriving at Potter Manor, Sirius had been closed and distant to everyone. Granted he was going through an awful lot, having seen his brother cursed and hurting, but he looked absolutely haunted. Remus knows that he probably feels guilty for not being able to stop it, but he has told Remus countless stories of Sirius getting cursed when he was younger and Regulus being unable to stop it. How Regulus would crawl into Sirius’ bed when they were little after Sirius got punished and sob with guilt. Sirius had said he never blamed Regulus, so why was he blaming himself? Every touch from Remus was shrugged off. He was moody and distant and never smiled. It was all killing Remus.
Remus doesn't mean to finally uncover the real reason that Sirius has been so closed off and cold only two weeks after Regulus wakes up. He really doesn't. If James didn't insist on hogging the bathroom for his skincare routine, Remus never would have wandered into the bathroom next to Sirius’ room to use the loo. And if he wasn't so furious at James and his pores, he would have remembered to knock.
There wasn't some strange dramatic reveal and Sirius, who was wearing nothing but a towel, didn't even try to hide it. There was no hiding the grotesque dark ink on his forearm in the shape of a serpent consuming a skull.
Sirius looks up, eyes bloodshot and irises a shade of pure icey blue as he takes Remus in with a feather of his jaw.
“You said that there was nothing they could ever do to you to make you take that mark!” Remus spits, betrayal mixing with tears and stinging his eyes. He knows that he should walk away and give himself some time to let cooler heads prevail, but he can't stop the words from tumbling out of his mouth like water through a strainer.
“There was! But they did it to him, and I care about him more than I care about breathing.” Sirius snaps as his eyes grow icy frigid and wild all at the same time.
“More than me? More than the future we planned?” Remus accuses.
“If you cared about me, you wouldn't ask.” Sirius mutters, swiping his tears from his eyes and stalking to leave.
“You're just going to walk away from this? From us?” Remus yells, feeling the urge to throw something at him, scream, cry, or do whatever it takes to wake up from this god awful nightmare.
“I'm just going to check on Regulus and get dressed. No one's walking away, Remus.” Sirius says cooly, voice devoid of any emotion; good or bad.
“Check on him? He doesn't even know that you're there. Regulus is gone Sirius! There's just a shell of him left.” Remus cries. Remus is a mess. A bleeding open-wound. And he wants for one second to feel like he's not alone in that.
“No. That's not true.” Sirius breathes, faltering for a second.
“He is! He doesn't even respond to his own name. Whatever your parents did to him sucked the life right out of him and you're too scared to admit it. You're taking care of a breathing corpse.” Remus pushes on, screaming and sobbing.
“Maman cast the crucio curse on him and refused to stop until I took the mark while the rest of my cousins took turns having their fun with him. This mark was the only way I could get it to stop before they killed him.” Sirius practically whispers, eyes blown wide and nostrils flared.
“What's your plan when we leave for Hogwarts in three days?” Remus knows he's already dug in way too deep, but he can't seem to stop himself.
Nothing.
“Are you going to stay behind and take care of your brother who can't even put his own socks on?” Remus pushes.
Silence.
“Effie wants to bring him to Saint Mungos to have him evaluated psychologically.” Remus reveals the one card he had left up his sleeve in order to force Sirius to react.
And react he does. The door slams, shaking the frame of the room, but Remus doesn't notice it because it blends right in with the shake of his shoulders as he sobs.
Sirius had always vowed that there was nothing his parents could ever do to him that would ever make him even consider joining the Death Eaters. While there was nothing that they could ever do to him, what he had failed to calculate was that there was someone in his house that he cared about more than himself. Regulus.
And in turn, Remus vowed that there was nothing that Sirius could ever do to make Remus question his love for him. Until he does.
“Regulus.” Sirius bursts into his room, not caring about knocking or pretenses. “It's time to wake up now.”
Regulus’ eyes immediately snap on Sirius’ at the sound of his voice and a small twitch of a smile plays at his lips. Sirius slides in bed next to Regulus and turns to him with urgency.
“You need to start talking. Something. Anything. Tell me to fuck off and sneer at me like you used to, please.” Sirius asks, shaking Regulus’ shoulders while looking into a pair of eyes that matched his own and begging.
“I know you're hurting, but you need to wake up. They're gonna send you away to Saint Mungo’s if you don’t. You need to get up, talk again, put on your own shirt, feed yourself, and go back to being my annoying little shit of a brother. Please.” Sirius begs, placing a hand on Regulus’ cheek. Regulus leans into the touch, but doesn't show any sign of comprehending what is being said.
“Please, I need you. You're all I have left, I can't lose you. I'm sorry I couldn't save you from them. Please, I just need you back. I can't do this without you.” Sirius pleads. Regulus drops his head on Sirius’ shoulder and nuzzles his head, ever-so-slightly, and Sirius breaks down into sobs.
“I can't do this without you.” Sirius dissolves slowly, and Regulus just stares off into the distance.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Remus walked down the street to the nearest restaurant, begged to use their phone, and called his mom to come get him. He couldn't stay at Potter Manor anymore, not after knowing the truth, Besides, they all had enough on their plate. Peter wasn't coming anymore. Their Marauders reunion was in flames. Remus just wanted his mom.
Hope wasn't able to make the trip for at least two more days, leaving Remus to chew at his sweater sleeves with anxiety as he walked back to the house. He sat in the park for a while and just stared at the sky until the sun set and storm clouds had started to release their tears to join Remus’. He had to go back. He dawdled. It was late and the streetlights were on. He didn't want to go back. He couldn't close his eyes. Everytime he did, he saw the snake tattoo on Sirius’ forearm. He couldn't face him at breakfast. Did the Potter know the price that Sirius paid to keep Regulus alive? Did they mind? Were they as conflicted as Remus?
When he walked in, the lights were off and no one was on the main floor. Except for Regulus. He was sitting up with a blanket tossed over him on the couch, staring at the raindrops on the window as he sat with his chin tucked over his knees that were hugged to his chest.
“Regulus,” Remus called in concern, stepping closer to the boy, knowing he never went anywhere alone nowadays, so something was amiss.
Regulus looked up to face him and tears were dried on his cheeks. Remus had never really interacted with Regulus, he didn't even before all of this. But now Regulus was looking at Remus and his eyes were different. They were heavy and clouded, not free and innocent like before. Blood trickled down the side of his face from a cut on his head.
“Holy shit!” Remus exclaims, turning his head to call for everyone else
“No.” Regulus croaks, eyes snapping with intensity as he glared at Remus. Hold shit he spoke.
“No, what? Your head.” Remus stammers.
“No.” Regulus repeats, eyes burning with a fire of hatred.
“Reg-”
“NO! NO! NO!” Regulus shouted, voice booming.
Well that gets everyone in the house’s attention and Remus is left gaping in shock at just how bad this looks. Regulus, who is known by everyone not to talk, is sitting here with a bleeding head as everyone hears yelling.
“What the fuck?” Sirius yells, taking the stairs two at a time as he races down to the living room. The three Potters were not far behind, James rubbing his eyes like a cat.
“What happened to his head?” Sirius accuses instantly, wheeling on Remus.
“What was that yelling about, dear?” Effie asks, baffled, as she immediately rushes to tend to Regulus’ head.
“Moons, you can't yell at him, it's not fair.” James defends.
“He yelled at me!” Remus exclaims.
“You know he doesn't talk.” Sirius narrows his eyes and glares.
“Moons, if something happened it's okay, just tell us.” James placates.
“Your frustrations with me are with me! There is no reason to take it out on my brother when you know he can't defend himself.” Sirius scowls at Remus.
“He was sitting on the couch like this when I walked in the door. I swear to Merlin, use Veritaserum right now.” Remus dares.
“Bullshit! He won't even walk down to the couch alone and you know it.” Sirius fumes.
“Guys.” James points to Regulus with a quizzical expression.
Meanwhile, Regulus squirms uncomfortably as Effie dabs at the cut on his head and Monty tries to apply a salve. He never usually reacted like this to pain, at least not since waking up.
“Stay still, baby.” Effie instructs, gently stroking Regulus’ curls in an effort to calm him.
“Now he's all worked up and out of sorts.” Sirius complains. The room erupts into more and more arguing among everyone until it's interrupted by one tiny word from a small and soft voice.
“Table.” Regulus says, pointing at the coffee table.
“Come again?” James splutters.
“Table.” Regulus repeats, looking right at Sirius and pointing.
“Ta- table?” Sirius frowns, looking at Regulus imploringly.
“Yes sweetheart, that is a table.” Effie smiles softly.
Regulus’ eyes screw shut in frustration, as he furrows his brow like he's concentrating.
“It's okay Regs, let's get you back to bed.” Sirius starts.
“Table.” Regulus insists, “ Hit. Table. My head.” Regulus looks frustrated and baffled at his own speech and frowns.
“Did you hit your head on the table bud?” Monty guesses.
Regulus smiles, body relaxing in relief at being understood.
“Wa- water.” Regulus says.
“Take it slow, no rush.” Effie promises, rubbing his back.
“Wanted water.” Regulus gets out, looking to Remus expectantly.
“Uh, when I came inside he was sitting here crying on the couch with the cut on his head. Maybe he tripped and hit his head on the coffee table when coming down to get water.” Remus surmises.
“Water.” Regulus pleads, looking up at Effie.
“James, go-”
“On it.” James promises, running off and hurdling the kitchen chair to grab some water.
“Regulus.” Sirius starts out carefully, “Do you remember, the last two weeks? What happened to you?”
“Everything.” Regulus confirms before fainting in Effie’s arms.
This time, when Regulus wakes up, it's with all his facilities intact. The healer that Monty calls guesses that the fall might have kick-started his brain. Sirius jokes that if concussing Regulus would have helped him, he would have gladly punched him in the face weeks ago.
It was four am, and everyone was huddled around Regulus on the couch as the healer left.
“Time to get some sleep I think, honey.” Effie suggests. Regulus was curled against her side, as he had been since he fainted. Regulus was exhausted and frustrated as he tried to talk and things still came out a little more jumbled then he wanted it to.
“Don't be mad.” Regulus insists.
“No one's mad at you.” Monty promises.
“Sirius.” Regulus clarifies.
“Oh buddy.” Sirius sighs, “I could never be mad at you. It's not your fault. Don't ever-”
“No, at Sirius.” Regulus struggles, looking right at Remus.
“Why would Moony be mad at Pads?” James inquires.
“He saved me.” Regulus says, looking up at Sirius with sad eyes.
Effie gets it first, the clues clicking in her head as her tongue clicks out loud. Remus can tell Monty gets it too, by the way he instantly pulls Sirius in for a hug.
“My boy, you did nothing wrong.” Monty promises him.
James, however, needs things spelled out sometimes, “Why would we be mad that he saved you? Regulus, you are so special and important. You deserved to be saved.”
“I took it James.” Sirius admits.
“Took what?” James frowns.
“The mark. They did this to him because I wouldn't take it and only stopped when I let them give me it.” Sirius comes clean, pulling up his sleeve.
James turns around and tackles Sirius into a hug without a second thought, “Thank you for keeping him safe.”
“Remus.” Regulus says, insistently.
“Nothing you could ever do would make me love you any less.” Remus promises, joining in on the hug.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Effie had always wanted a big family and now, she had three sons. Picking them up from the Kings Cross Station for the Winter Hols was the highlight of Effie’s month as she stood holding hands with Monty and marveling at how much bigger and stronger they had gotten.
Regulus, thankfully, suffered no more long-lasting effects from the curses he had been put under, Sirius and Remus had rekindled their relationship, and James was the same sunshine as always. Just looking at them, Effie knew that this was going to be the best Christmas ever.