Drowning in my own sick
Lying to yourself is easy, Sirius finds – apparently, it’s even easier when the subject at hand is weird feelings towards one of your closest friends. When Sirius steps into the dormitory and is faced with making the decision of either approaching Remus’s argument or his younger brother, he’d like to say that the choice was difficult, that he thought about it for longer than a split second, that he considered all pros and cons.
He would like to have done that, but he really didn’t, so he’s simply left with the option of rewiring his train of thought with a quick lie and pretend that it took more than half a moment to choose to approach Remus first.
He can’t be blamed, he reasons, because he’d already assessed that Regulus is fine by the grin on his brother's face which is bizarre but not enough to tip the scales in his favor while Remus is clearly not fine - face red, arms crossed, brow furrowed - so really Sirius is just trying to be a good friend. Right.
The fight between Peter and Remus came to a complete stop when Sirius arrived and unfortunately he hadn’t been able to catch a word of it. So, immediately, Sirius’s jumbled and not at all helpful brain starts finding reasons as to why the argument is about him and something he’s done wrong. It’s not a completely baseless assumption, as he and Remus had been fighting so often as of late, and it's just reasonable enough that he manages to hurt his own feelings with it.
When Remus looks at him, the ball of stress he’d been nursing since taking those little stairs into the room dissipates and Sirius promptly forgets everything . There’s a sniffle from Regulus that almost pulls his focus, but Remus's hazel eyes swirl with gold and green so Sirius has little choice on the matter of staying put (it’s not weird – he just notices things about people's eyes, he’s observant. Right.)
“Quidditch?” Is all that Sirius is able to get out, cursing the mascara he wore as he starts to feel some of it crease under his eye. Remus tilts his head, asking for elaboration. Behind him Peter lets out a noise closer to a shriek than a celebration, “Christ, I forgot! We’ve got that match today, it’s meant to be something proper wicked.” he says, smile broadening until he reminds himself of their situation and lets out a weird cough, “‘Course we don’t have to go, all things considered.”
Remus makes no move to get ready for the match, which is just as well because he looks good in the clothes he’d picked out that morning – muggle clothes, loose and soft – and Sirius would rather he stay like that, for aesthetic purposes. Though, Sirius is admittedly a bit miffed that he won’t get to style Remus’s curls for him if he's planning on going as is. “Ready?” Sirius asks, posing it as a question to all his dormmates. Remus makes no movement or sound to respond, so Sirius turns to Peter who nods and begins to tie his shoes, and then to James who… also does not move.
Sirius feels a frown settling on his face because he’s been used to excusing his best friend's behavior over the past few months with his secret rendezvous but this is Quidditch and it’s James and nothing would ever get in the middle of those two words.
Yet, apparently, a sick Regulus Black is enough. Sirius remembers the first training week of third year when James woke up before the sun was even aware that its job started soon to go on a run and train. Last year James thought the that the quidditch captain binder held all the secrets of the world and the power of gods and that the day started and ended at Longbottom’s command, though Sirius was more inclined to believe that it was James’s morning runs and sunset walks that told the sun where to go.
All that’s to say, James adores Quidditch. He loves the feeling of the wind on his perpetually messy hair, loves the claps and whoops from the stands, lives for the competition and the adrenaline. None of this adds up to James now, sitting by his bed like leaving had never even been an option.
He looked slightly pleased when Sirius had walked in, still his only reaction to the imminent quidditch game was a slight twitch of his eyebrows when Remus mentioned that the game would be a deciding factor in who Gryffindor plays against next.
“I'm not going” Remus murmured, looking down at the scuff in Sirius’s boot. “I asked someone to take over commentating, I wouldn’t -” A pause, a slow look up to meet Sirius’s eyes again which is absolutely not as distracting as it was thirty seconds ago because that would be ridiculous, and Sirius Black is far from ridiculous. “I wasn’t going to leave you… you guys. Alone.”
Peter nods vehemently, like he hadn’t just finished looping his shoelace through and gathered his things. “Pete and I,” Remus continues, “are going to talk to Poppy, I’ve looked through some potions textbooks and there might be an alternative to the ingredient in the antidote that your brother is allergic to and I don’t want to do anything without her go-ahead.” and oh that’s just lovely, isn’t it? All Sirius had done up to that point is almost throw up at the sight of his baby brother looking happy and then have a minor breakdown with Lily Evans. But, here Remus is with a solution ready to go and having spared no thought to what he’s actually meant to do today, as if anything but helping Sirius is unfathomable to him.
Realistically Sirius knows this makes sense, that this is the sort of caring friendship that the little ragtag group of marauders and company have cultivated with one another and he would’ve done the same for any three of the boys – the butterflies swirling up in Sirius’s stomach decidedly do not know that.
When Remus and Peter leave the room Sirius spins on the heel of his boot to finally face his brother and by extension - James. Regulus looks awful, well and truly awful. That’s to say - he still looks adorable, like the toddler and later shy kid that Sirius had hanging on to him since he was one. His cheeks red, he looks up at Sirius and mumbles. He doesn’t look as unreserved as before and, Circe bless him , it looks like he’s using all his remaining strength to try and school his expression back to its practiced detachment. It would work, if it wasn’t for the aforementioned red cheeks and watery eyes.
“I feel fine,” He says, again looking like it’s taking unspeakable amounts of effort to lie. It’s a side effect of the fever to be uncontrollably honest and it upsets Sirius more than it should to know that his brother would rather physically exert himself than carry on an honest conversation. In the interest of Black family style honesty, Sirius communicates none of his feelings and says, “Don’t lie, you’re too fucked up to be any good at it.” which is nothing like the softness he had imagined having for his brother and definitely not conducive to the proper conversation Lily had urged him to have but whatever.
It seems like that was the harshness that Regulus had expected because he nodded and furrows deeper into the red covers and the three blankets that James had thrown over him.
“You wanted to see me.” Sirius says, because he feels like he should probably extend his brother an olive branch (or maybe extend him a tissue for all the fucking sniffling he’s doing). Regulus nods again, like he doesn’t trust his words - which is fair, since he has little control over them at the moment. When Regulus seems to decide that he has nothing more to say, Sirius starts to get antsy. It’s just.. Well, he doesn’t really know what he’s meant to do.
Regulus was a sick kid, not in any critically damaging way but he simply tended to be more susceptible to the fevers and colds caused by the age of Grimmauld house than Sirius was. At age four, they had a routine down. Regulus would wake up feeling queasy and he’d paddle on over to Sirius’s room, having learned how to crawl out his crib soon after walking, and sneak onto his brother's small bed. Sirius, after grumbling and tossing about a few times (being a morning person was thankfully not a requirement for being a good brother), drew his little brother a bath and called a house elf – dreadful dreadful Kreacher who only ever did things for his mother or for Regulus – to make soup. They’d spend the day in bed reading to each other as Sirius tried to subtly make his brother fall asleep, because he’d stubbornly try to stay awake for as long as Sirius was.
They are way past that point now, no relationship between them left to bridge the gap between then and now. There’s no bath to be drawn, no soup to be ordered from a small evil-adjacent gremlin, no books to share. Sirius doesn’t even know his brother's favorite book anymore, highly doubts it's The Tales of Beedle the Bard – which had always been more Sirius’s thing anyway.
Sirius picks at the red and gold nail varnish that Marlene had done for him, most of it gone from the fussing he does. He focuses back to his surroundings to find his brother and James whispering to each other which is again weird but Sirius is feeling proper sorry for himself so he can’t be bothered to overthink it. James looks at him, big brown eyes looking pitiful but the effect is cut short by the determined smile beginning to tug at his lips. “Right,” He says, brushing his hands off on his trousers as he makes to stand and leave Regulus’s side finally, fucks sake.
“Mum sent me some soup recipes, so I’m just – I’ll run to the kitchen and get on with that.” Sirius has only a split second to wander when on earth James had the time to owl or floo call his mother and how Euphemia Potter had managed to get recipes to him in only a few hours while being on holiday with her husband. Potter family magic, he reasons, because if there’s one thing Potters do well it’s taking on strays. It’s easy to see the loyalty and care James pours into his friendships in pure Potter fashion. Sirius is utterly warmed through knowing that his efforts extend to Regulus even if he’s disliked Sirius’s brother and all Slytherins on principle since second year – though he’s starting to feel like he’s missing a big piece of the Regulus-James rivalry.
Before leaving, James takes the back of his hand to rest at Regulus’s forehead and Regulus doesn’t pull away. If Sirius had a sickle for everytime those two had confused him today he’d have enough money to not need his uncle's inheritance. James walks over to ruffle Sirius’s hair and reminds him in a whisper that he’s there for him and Regulus, that he understands how hard this and he’s proud of Sirius - well, fuck him. Now Sirius is going to have to talk to his brother, for James’s sake really.
Not wanting to take the awkward chair that James had pulled up, Sirius sits on the edge of the bed facing Regulus with his knees touching his chin. He had kicked off his boots and rolled up the sleeves of the jumper he wore - black and torn, which is a bit ironic. Regulus sniffles and eyes red, he meets his brother's stare. He says nothing, so Sirius waits. Regulus, in response, picks at the skin around his nails, plays with the edge of the blankets covering him and fusses with his hair. Sirius focuses back to his brother’s face and notices the physical toll that not speaking is taking on him. Of course, Vertigo fever is weakening his filters and of course Regulus continues to use his remaining strength to spite Sirius. Again.
If Regulus isn’t going to talk then.. Well, then it’s up to Sirius to start. “I never… You’re my brother.” he says, fighting against the lump that’s forming at the base of his throat. “When I realized I’d lost you, when I first – Merlin, when I first realized you wouldn’t leave with me.” A steady mantra of Don’t cry. Don’t cry. drums through his mind. “Reggie, that was the worst moment of my life.” Regulus’s eyes have closed but he’s clearly listening, his hands tensing and his frown deepening. His cheeks are nearly bright red. “The fact that you would rather stay with them than go with me…” He trails off, cruising at the warm and uncomfortable feeling of silent tears falling down his cheek and surely ruining his makeup.
- - -
He remembers the moment as if it had just happened, feels the pain like he isn’t two years removed from it. The plan to leave had been set since the winter hols before, formed through hushed ideas the two-way mirror Fleamont Potter gave his son (his sons) and polished with the help of Remus and Peter immediately upon their return to class. Come hell or high water, those first two weeks of summer would be the last that Sirius would ever spend in the haunted halls of Grimmauld Place. By the end of fifth year, Sirius and Regulus had fallen into their estranged relationship. They didn’t speak during school and took the better part of Summer to get used to each other - at which point the imminent return to class and reminder of what separated them once again soured the relationship.
By the end of fifth year, Sirius was completely sure that he could get his brother out. He knew his brother, knew that the prick he saw every day at Hogwarts was an act and that Regulus would clearly want out. Those two weeks were emotional and tense. Sirius didn’t sleep, waiting until the tell-tale signs of his parents going to sleep before uncovering his trunk and continuing to pack. The lack of sleep made him grumpy, snappy at his parents who retaliated by separating Regulus from him lest the youngest Black be influenced.
His parents were both brilliant wizards, in that they were skilled at two things – painful curses and emotional manipulation. They’d created the perfect storm in their two sons. Sirius, brash and reckless. Regulus, cold and calculated. Both equally emotional. Both raised to be utterly dependent on each other. They had grown up in the lonely house with only each other as company, Sirius knows that Regulus would have counted Kreacher as company but Sirius refuses to give that creature the time of day, and loved each other as easily as they breathed. Thus, separating them consistently proved to be the perfect punishment and way to wear down the children. Unfortunately for their parents, after four years of both of them at Hogwarts with friends and pride in the way, the brothers had grown more used to being apart and fighting than together.
The Sunday of the second week that summer, the Black family was hosting a reunion. With enough wine, classical music, and heaps of cousins around that the sudden disappearance of two boys would go completely unnoticed until the next morning. With his packed bag, hair just barely down to his shoulders and boots unscuffed, Sirius knocked on his brother’s door. No answer.
Sirius clearly remembers smiling to himself as he walks further down to the library, so utterly fond that his little brother would take the last few moments they would ever spend in this wretched house to read. The little prince that he was.
The doors are open when Sirius makes it down the hall, getting a full welcome into Regulus's sanctuary. He figures it makes sense this is the room that his brother will miss, with its thick curtains, paintings and shelves lined with classics, it was always more for him than it was for their parents or for Sirius. Even more than his bedroom, which afforded neither of the brothers any privacy or safety, the library was his place. At that moment, Regulus was lying on one of the couches, gazing hard in a way that suggested there was no way he could be focusing on the actual pages of the book he held.
“C’mon then, we haven’t got much time” Sirius remembers saying, looking thrice at the hall to make sure none of his nosy cousins had gotten the idea to come looking for them. He’d seen Narcissa earlier and convincing her to stay away only took once mention of the latest gossip (which drew in all his cousins to hover together with glasses of wine, chattering about everyone and everything – never noticing the missing brothers.)
“Have fun.” was Regulus’s reply, voice dry and hard even at fourteen. "Don't come back, it's not wroth your precious time. Clearly." Sirius remembers the way his heart had sank in that moment. Maybe it was reckless optimism that convinced him all along that his brother would follow him but the realization that he wouldn’t almost completely shattered Sirius’s resolve to leave. His inner monologue of constant insisting he get out immediately warped and changed to ‘not without him.’
They fought then. They screamed at each other for so long that Sirius can’t even recall the substance of what they were saying, just the way they rendered their voices raw and the way that the screams echoed through the walls of the library like his mother’s voice used to carry when they got in trouble.
There's shouts of, "Salazar, won't you just leave!"
"Why are you so stubborn! Grab your miserable little books and come on."
"Run away to your friends! Make a new family for all I bloody care - just leave me out of it!"
Sirius’s memory is clear as day about this – he feels it, they fight so hard that they are both left panting by the end of it, unable to meet eyes as the cruel things they spat at each other fills up the air and stifles them. True sons of the House of Black.
The fight takes up most of Sirius’s nightmares if he’s being honest, not even the memories of his parent’s cruelty can rival the emotional backwash of feeling the loss of his little brother. He had looked at Regulus that day and no longer recognized himself in those eyes, he saw none of the influence he had on Regulus before, he only saw his mother in Regulus’s gray eyes and his father in the flat line of lips. It took Sirius months to stop seeing his parents when he looked in the mirror of the Potter’s guest room ( His room.), it took him two years to stop seeing Regulus.
- - -
The quiet voice of his brother nearly tears Sirius apart, “I didn’t want to” Regulus says, “You’re saying…” A cough. “Like I wanted to stay.”
“‘Course you did, Regulus. I’m not blaming you, just saying.”
“No.” The pause before Regulus speaks again is long and somehow Sirius feels like it’s not because he’s feeling poorly. “It was you or me. I understood you needed to get out more than me – It wouldn’t have… had less people relying on me.”
Regulus’s nose is still red from the amount of tissues he’s been using, so the next time he sniffles it looks painful. Absent-mindedly, Sirius summons a glass of water and waits till his brother has drunk it, feeling very much like he needs his own to dissipate the several lumps of emotion fighting for attention before he speaks.
Sirius shakes head, “You or me? What are you on about Regulus?’ He feels itchy, uncomfortable and like he needs to move immediately. He picks at his nails again instead, forcing himself to stay.
They meet eyes again and Sirius understands. It hits him like a Bludger right to the head. He doesn’t know if it’s the realization or the fact that he and Regulus seem to have reinstated the silent communication they haven’t been able to do since they were twelve and eleven. The Black Family needs an heir, he feels more than hears his parents voices, It is your responsibility to carry our line.
Regulus was the spare, it was never meant to fall on him. But, clearly, when Sirius started to pull away from the family values he so detested – the spare stepped in. He remembers his parents starting to give Regulus more attention. He'd been so bitter about it at the start but, oh, it makes sense. The puzzle pieces begin to slot together faster than Sirius can keep up: Regulus had been trying to make it easier for him to leave, James's insistence that Sirius had to go, his brother's sudden spell of obedience.
Lying to yourself is easy and it’s through his brother’s sick voice that Sirius learned that he’d been lying to himself about his role in Regulus’s rise as the favorite son. Regulus chose their parents to protect his brother. Sirius thinks about how he’d sacrificed his childhood to raise his brother, he thinks about how Regulus had been so unquestioningly ready to give up his future for his brother.
Regulus pipes up with his voice rough and speech punctuated by sniffles or coughs - “Asked James to bring me to you,” James? “‘Cus I know myself ‘irius, this is the only way that I could make sure I’d talk to you”
Sirius refills the glass of water and again waits for Regulus to finish drinking – he might not talk to his brother anymore but he remembers well enough to know when he's being purposely cryptic so when Regulus offers no elaboration, Sirius reanalyzes his words. The conclusion he reaches is unpleasant - and insane. “You made yourself sick?! You prick, do you know how dangerous that is?” As if proving his point, Regulus promptly burrs into a sneezing fit. “what else would you have su’gest?” He says through the pathetic little tone caused by his illness. Sirius wants to say he's surprised that his brother did this but it's so Regulus. ‘Two birds with one stone' is the saying that applies best – unsurprisingly, his idiot brother had found a way to get Sirius to listen to him whilst simultaneously impressing a professor.
“I'd suggest talking to me.” Sirius says but it sounds half hearted even to him as he's more than fully aware that he would've never listened to Regulus. “Anything would've been better than getting sick, you're literally the worst person to have sick.”
Regulus shrugs, “Knew you'd take care of me.” He mutters, the sweet smile that had captivated Sirius at the start is gone and replaced with a (albeit very tired) sly tug of his lip.
“I could walk your spoiled arse right back down to ten dungeons.” which is just met by Regulus's unimpressed stare, not even bothering to point out his brother's lie. Regulus instead of shooting back with an insult opens the other side of James’s covers and urges Sirius to sit next to him in the bed. “I just wanted to ‘know if you would.” Regulus says, skipping over some letters and mumbling but to Sirius, who'd been there since Regulus only knew his brother's name and even the few years that he had a slight lisp, the messed up English sounds like home.
Sirius takes Regulus’s meaning soon enough, and though he still thinks the idea was reckless and idiotic, he feels a pang of guilt and sadness. Unfortunately, those two feelings wrestle in his guts long enough to make him feel like he might vomit soon. “Why now?”
“‘M leaving home,” Regulus murmurs, so quietly that Sirius thinks his wishful thinking made it up. You’re what , he whispers back taking Regulu’s hand under the blankets. “I have… for the first time, I think I might deserve better than what they have for me” He says, letting Sirius join him shoulder to shoulder on the bed. “Always felt like you did. Didn’t know why I was different – but maybe I’m not. Maybe they deserve to rot in that house and drown in their values.” It’s the clearest thing he's said all day. “I don’t want to drown with them, brother.” Sirius shivers, Regulus shares one of the million blankets James had given him. “Don’t make me.”
With one last sniffle, Regulus lets his eyes slip closed again.
There was a time that Sirius would have done anything for his baby brother. He thinks now Regulus might actually let him.