The bludger came out of nowhere and hit Regulus square in the chest.
His broom caught in the grass as he dove to the ground, and he let out a gasp as he was flung forward, landing on his wrist awkwardly.
For a few seconds, Regulus couldn’t breathe. His chest throbbed, and his arm was shooting with pain. Regulus could see several pair of shoes running towards him as he lay on the grass.
Embarrassed, Regulus allowed himself only a moment of weakness before he sat himself up and threw on a smile. It was about the only thing he could do to keep himself from bursting into tears on the spot. That would be humiliating. He couldn’t even imagine what the Gryffindors would say about that.
“Regulus! Are you okay?” Evan crouched by his side. A professor was right behind him, approaching fast.
“Yeah, yeah. I’m fine,” Regulus said forcing that smile to stay on his face. Madam Hooch reached him next, throwing herself down on the grass.
“Are you alright?”
Vaguely aware of his trembling hands, Regulus pulled him arm away as Hooch reached out to touch him.
“Sorry,” she said, holding her hands up in defense, realizing she shouldn’t have tried to touch him without his permission.
“It’s alright,” Regulus laughed gently. He had to play this off like an actor.
“You sure? Does your arm hurt?” Madam Hooch looked at him skeptically.
“No,” Regulus shook his head. “I’m fine. Really.”
It hurt like hell. He’d be lucky if he could stand without feeling lightheaded. But he’d be damned if he let anyone know.
“I’ll take him to the hospital wing,” Evan suggested to Hooch, but Regulus shook him off. He wasn’t about to go to the hospital wing and risk someone thinking they earned the satisfaction in causing him pain.
He could handle the ache. After all, Regulus was a master at pretending. He’d been pretending his whole life. Controlling his emotions was a walk in the park.
“No. I’ll be fine. I’m going to head to my dorm and lie down for a bit.”
He pulled himself to his feet, using his left hand to push off the ground, his right cradled close to his chest.
Evan nodded uneasily, hanging back. “Okay, uh. Let me know if you need anything.”
“I won’t.” Regulus said, walking as casually as possible towards the tents. The second he was inside, he let his fake smile slip away and grimaced terribly. Mother would bitch about wrinkles, telling him to straighten his face or else he’d age prematurely. But fuck it. Regulus didn’t care.
It felt like someone stabbed him through the heart, the way his chest burned, and he knew something was wrong because he swore he could hear a cracking sound as he twisted his torso, but he refused to submit to it.
He grew up pretending his parents words didn’t hurt him. He grew up with an older brother. Dealing with pain was a natural part of his life.
He should thank his whole family for raising him to be so callous because otherwise he’d be making unholy noises of agony on his way to his room.
Instead, Regulus made it to his dorm quietly and collapsed onto his bed. Wearing his quidditch uniform because he felt too lazy to change, Regulus closed his eyes and willed himself to sleep.
After taking a quick nap, which was more like passing out, he woke with his nose stuffed and ears clogged. When he managed to take a deep breath through his mouth, he regretted it immediately. His chest, fuck. He couldn’t breathe. Then, coughs of mucus tore their way up his throat and he rolled over, spitting on the floor.
Regulus screwed his face in disgust and tried to sit up. He couldn’t.
Now this. This was a problem. Regulus could handle pain, yeah. But he could not handle feeling helpless. God, if there was one thing he hated more than anything else in the entire world; it was feeling helpless.
He paused for a moment and tried to lift himself up again. He got halfway, the pain in his chest far too great for him to fully commit, and he fell back.
Trapped.
Regulus didn’t like it; he wanted to move, to gain control, to get out of bed on his own.
His breathing grew heavier as he tried again to no avail. And the more his breathing increased, the more pain he felt in his chest.
Unwanted tears filled his eyes. He rubbed at them furiously, trying to force them to go away before they fell down his face. Stupid! Helpless! Useless! Piece of —
“Reg?”
Shit.
“Y-yeah?” He said, pressing his face into the mattress to avoid looking at whoever walked in on him.
“I wanted to check on you. Everything all good?”
“Mhmm. Completely,” Regulus said, forever the master of keeping tears out of his voice even though he was getting his pillow all wet with them as he spoke.
“Want to grab a bite to eat?”
Regulus shook his head, knowing Evan could see his curls.
“Okay. The game’s over. Gryffindor won. Lousy cheats if you ask me.”
When Regulus didn’t respond, Evan moved closer to him. “Are you sure you don’t want to go to the hospital wing?”
Regulus lifted his head, keeping his eyes focused on the mattress below. “Yes. I’m sure. Go eat. I’ll be down in a second.”
His whole body tensed with the effort to lift his head; but he managed, and that was relief within itself.
“Regulus… your wrist is purple.”
His wrist? Fuck. Regulus didn’t even have time to think about his wrist. Not when he felt like he was being stabbed through his lungs with every breath he took.
Maybe he should see Madame Pomfrey…
No.
“It’s just a bruise,” he wheezed. Who knew talking required so much effort from the diaphragm.
He should tell Sirius. He wasn’t sure what his older brother would do other than drag his sorry rump to Madame Pomfrey but at least if someone made Regulus go to the hospital wing, he could blame them for forcing him to be weak.
His whole family was good at blaming Sirius for things he didn’t deserve. Why should Regulus be any different?
The pain wasn’t subsiding and his eyes were watering up and Evan was staring at his wrist like it was growing mutated eyes out of the skin and he couldn’t help it. He wanted his older brother who made everything better.
Regulus chomped on the collar of his shirt, muffling the whimpers slipping from his mouth. Fuck.
His resolve was wearing thin.
“Mate, let me help you,” Evan said, noticing Regulus’s stupid ugly wet eyes.
“Sirius,” he croaked out, and he knew speaking was going to break him.
His throat, tight as hell, was just waiting for him to open up and let the hot tears spill down his cheeks.
“You want me to get your brother?”
Regulus nodded as the silent crying rapidly turned into heavy, ugly, sobs that didn’t ease his pain but felt good nonetheless. He covered his face with his hands and allowed his whole body to shake.
“Merlin. Okay. Hold on. I’ll be back.”
Regulus made an awful coughing noise as another sob ripped through him and he thinks he might die from the pain in his chest.
“It hurts so bad,” he sobbed to no one in particular. He started banging his head against his knees. He just wanted it to stop.
Regulus flinched when the door burst open and Evan was running in, dragging his scowling brother behind him.
Sirius’s body language quickly changed when he caught sight of Regulus and his eyes get all wide and worried.
“What’s wrong?”
“I told you, he hurt his wrist!” Evan growled, clearly annoyed Sirius hadn’t listened to a word he said.
Sirius shifted into mother goose mode and grabbed Regulus’s wrist. “You must have broke it,” he whispered. “It’s really swollen.”
Regulus gasped out at the touch, his head dropping back against the pillow, as he let the tears drip down his chin. He was never going to live this down.
“Come on,” Sirius said, holding out his hand. “Let’s get you to Madame Pomfrey.”
“Can’t walk,” Regulus admitted, knuckles white from where he clutched the sheets.
Sirius stroked his cheek with his thumb, wiping away a few of his tears. “Why can’t you walk?”
“My chest — I can’t sit up.”
He felt Sirius lifting his quidditch equipment off, and then his shirt was lifted.
“Fucking hell, Regulus. You’re black and blue. And I can see one of your ribs poking out.”
He didn’t know what to say to that other than he wasn’t surprised. Felt more like four ribs were cracked.
Sirius scooped him up into his arms and carried him. Strangely, it reminded him of his childhood in an odd, miserable, traumatic sort of way.
He came out of his sleep induced coma an hour later. Madame Pomfrey having healed his bones and left him with a tiny scar on his chest and wrist.
He had potions he was supposed to take but he wasn’t planning on taking them. Regulus could at least ride out this pain.