Chapter 16
Regulus’ shoulders felt incredibly heavy all day, not even lessening in weight upon seeing James at lunch. Instead, they grew heavier and heavier, his chest starting to share some of that same weight. He hadn’t been able to stop thinking about it all week, but today being the day had made everything crash down on him.
Today was the last day before winter holiday began. The last day before he was dragged out to France with his parents and forced to talk to women he would secretly never be truly interested in. The last day before he was forced to be the Black heir for nearly three weeks. The last day before he had to put on an act strong enough for his parents to not notice.
It didn’t help, of course, that he had been receiving odd looks all day from no other than Severus Snape and his goons, some of which would even be able to see Regulus in France. It made the churning of his stomach go even faster, because the look on the snotty boy’s face was not one of pure disdain like it usually was, it was one of great accomplishment. Like he had succeeded in something concerning Regulus without anyone else knowing. It gave him a bad feeling, but Severus was the least of concerns at the moment.
Now, he was sitting in writing club, absent-mindedly fiddling with his pen as he stared at his blank piece of paper. He hadn’t been able to think of anything to write this week because his mind was racing with many other concerns. Everything felt wrong.
“Hey,” Pandora’s soft voice broke Regulus from his daze, the boy flinching hard as a slim hand made contact with his shoulder. “Everything alright, Reg?”
Regulus thought for a second. He knew he could trust Pandora, but right now was definitely not the time or place to express his every emotion. Not with James, one of his many concerns, sitting there and staring at him.
“Just tired,” Regulus opted for, shrugging a bit. Pandora gave him a small, sad smile and nodded, walking back over to Dorcas, who was also sending him a concerned look. He looked down at his paper, his hand now fidgeting with the pen more aggressively. Was it that obvious?
Eventually, the alarm rang sharply through the classroom. There was no weekly prompt this time, seeing as most people would be busy over break. Regulus felt like he was going to throw up.
“Reg, are you-?”
“I’m fine, James. I’ve got to catch my bus home,” Regulus quickly tucked his things into his bag. He hears a sad sigh from the boy next to him and his heart drops. “I’m really sorry.”
“You don’t need to apologize, Reg. I just wish-”
“That I could spend the holidays with you and Sirius? Trust me, we both want the same thing,” Regulus mutters the last part, but knows it's audible. He genuinely might be sick. He’d rather that than cry, though. “It’s only two weeks. I’m sure I can survive it.”
He finally shifted toward James, fighting the pout that dared to sprout on his lips when he saw the boy’s face. He looked like someone had just kicked his puppy, or maybe even like the puppy that was kicked. Regulus gave a quick glance to the front of the classroom, seeing that it was empty, and leaning forward to give James a quick peck. That seemed to do the trick.
“You promise you’ll call, right?” James asked, reaching forward to tuck a strand of hair behind Regulus’ ear. Ah, that’ll probably be gone by the end of the holiday, as well. His mother never did deem his hair to be ‘presentable.’
“Whenever I have time. Remus knows how it is, so just ask him about it. I really need to catch my bus home,” Regulus leans into the warmth of James’ palm for a split second before he’s out of his seat, grabbing his bag and wrapping it around his shoulder. “I’ll see you next year.”
“That sounds so depressing!”
“It’s the truth!”
—
Later, when Regulus is walking home from the bus stop, the pit in his stomach is growing larger and larger, almost completely overwhelming. He doesn’t necessarily like going to France to see his family for the holidays, but this year, his anxiety is screaming and banging at the borders of his brain. Something really feels wrong.
Everything seems ordinary, though, as he walks along the pavement of his street, gripping his bag tightly in one hand and his phone in the other, skipping a song to listen to a different one. He had definitely made great use of the present, and would continue to do so over the next few weeks.
As he reaches the door of his home, he pulls it open and is met with…complete silence. A usually familiar silence for any other time of year, but for the day before their trip to France? It was incredibly odd. The pit was so large he was convinced it had swallowed most of his organs whole at this point.
“Mother? Father?” Regulus called out. No direct response, but a small sniffle could be heard from the sitting room to his right.
He didn’t know if he was meant to intrude or not, but he felt as if this would end poorly for him either way. So, he dragged curious feet through the house and to the room the noise had come from. There, he found his mother sitting on the sofa, a glass filled nearly to the brim with wine in one hand and her head in the other. Her shoulders were shaking, and she was…crying? His mother was crying?
Next to her sat his father, who had one hand on her back and barely seemed to notice Regulus walk in. He did, though, and the look that the boy was met with was one of pure disgust and borderline, well, hatred.
“Regulus Arcturus, sit down. Now,” His father’s voice was firm; scary. Regulus nodded, not letting go of his bag as he sat on one of the uncomfortable chairs sitting across from the couch. He took his headphones off and wrapped them around his neck, then decided they would be safer inside his bag.
“Is everything okay, mother?” Regulus asks, feeling his eyebrows knead together. His mother let out a sob. Something was really wrong.
“Do not talk to her, you,” His father cut himself off, pursing his lips together as he seemingly searched for the right words. “You absolute filth.”
Regulus wasn’t not used to these sorts of things being said to him by his father, but he usually had some sort of context as to why these names were being used toward him. Regulus just tilts his head to the side the slightest bit, not making any sudden movements that could possibly send his father off the wall.
“I’m sorry, father, but I don’t know what I’ve done wrong,” Regulus says quietly, not knowing what else to say in this situation.
“Well, the Snape boy had stopped by our house while you were at your silly little club,” Orion’s voice shook as he spoke. Regulus felt his stomach drop.
“Why did you have to choose to follow in his footsteps, Regulus?” Walburga finally speaks, weeping her words. She looks up and her makeup has been running down her face for what looks like hours, so she truly looks a mess.
“What do you mean, mother? Who’s footsteps?” Regulus knows who they’re talking about, but he still doesn’t know what they’re talking about.
“Your brother. How could you choose to be a homosexual?” Walburga cries out the last word, her face falling back into her hand.
Oh.
Oh no.
Oh no oh no oh no oh no oh no.
The only thing racing through Regulus’ mind is how badly he needed to leave. He needed to leave immediately.
“Severus Snape, that boy in the grade above you, showed us some…interesting photos,” Orion says, clenching his jaw. “To be give into these tendencies is a terrible thing on its own, but with James Potter? What the hell were you thinking, Regulus?”
No.
There’s no way. They hadn’t been caught. There was no way they had been caught because they were so secretive about it. It’s impossible for them to have been caught.
No way.
“You seem to be real quiet, boy. Is there nothing you have to say for yourself?” Orion snarls and Regulus flinches. Oh, this really will not end well.
“I’m so sorry,” Regulus whispers, clasping his hands together in his lap to try and conceal just how badly they were shaking. This was surely the end of him. “It won’t ever happen again, I swear. It was–”
“You’re right, it will never happen again, and we will make sure of that,” His father said firmly, the disgust and disappointment in his voice impossible to miss.
Regulus stared at him blankly, confused. What the hell did that mean? Whatever it was, it wasn’t good. At all. Regulus felt more and more panicked by the second. He was starting to lose control of his breathing.
“We’ve found a place for boys like you. Boys who are confused with themselves, confused with their emotions,” Walburga joined in, and suddenly she was no longer weeping. No, instead she was smiling. A grin so purely wicked that it would send anyone into a fit.
“What?” Regulus didn’t even feel himself say it, his lips numb; his whole body being engulfed in a terrible, pounding void of numbness. He somewhat felt like he was floating, like all of this wasn’t real. Oh, if only.
“Well, we’ve made arrangements for you to go away to this place over break. It’s a two week program, so you’ll show up to school good as new,” Walburga’s smile grew, and with it, the crack in Regulus’ heart. “It’s because we love you, Regulus. We want what’s best for you.”
Regulus shook his head, standing up from the chair, not fully in control of his own actions. He felt his breath tremble out of his lungs. He needed to calm down before he began to cry, the warning sting of his eyes causing him to freak out. Ugly things happened to boys who cry.
“Regulus, sit down. We’re not finished,” Orion said, standing up, towering over Regulus. The boy glanced down at his father’s clenched fists and couldn’t help the small whine that left his mouth. That was it for him. He had sealed his fate.
That same fist that was clenched by his father’s side had now opened up and hit across his face so hard it knocked him to the ground. Walburga let out a small scream and Regulus shot her a quick, pleading glance before another strike of pain was felt across his face.
“Father, please-”
“No! You need to learn how to fucking listen to us! I don’t know how else to get this shit into your head, Regulus.”
Later, when it all was finished, Regulus properly bloodied up and locked inside of his room, he laid numbly in his bed. He had yet to grab the small kit containing basic first aid supplies due to fear of either of his parents walking in and seeing it. They would surely take it away. Plus, moving the slightest bit hurt so bad.
He had been told that he had until Monday to pack his things for this camp he would be going to. His parents left for Paris tomorrow morning, and Regulus was to stay here. They had taken his phone and were likely to go through it, which would only leave him more fucked over than he already was.
He didn’t want to go to this camp at all. He didn’t want to be forced to change himself–or pretend to, anyway–for the sake of his parent’s reputation. He knew what those kinds of places did to people like him, and he didn’t even blame himself for the dread flooding his veins. What else was he meant to do?
Numbly, he looked over at his window, wincing at the pain on the back of his head. The bloodied bump there had come from when his father had thrown him down onto the coffee table. He had been forced to scrub his own blood from the dark wood varnish, otherwise he would not have been aware of just how severe his injuries were. There was nothing he could do, though.
Nothing.
Absolutely nothing.
Unless.
He shakes his head, inwardly scolding himself for even thinking of something as idiotic as that. He took a deep breath, letting his eyes focus on the ceiling again. Another deep breath. One more for good measure.
But, wasn’t it his only option? Besides going to the camp that could very much end up killing him? Truly and honestly, what was he meant to do?
Regulus kneads his eyebrows together, not able to ignore the way it ached to do so. He definitely knew how to pull it off, not forgetting what Sirius taught him when he was a child. Sirius had an available room in his apartment. Sirius–
The door creaking open caused him to jump up, moving to sit down with his legs crossed. He watched as a small plate slid into his bedroom, two pieces of bread sitting on top of it. Then, the door slammed shut once more, his body jolting with a flinch.
That usually meant his parents had gone to bed and the guards were starting to pity him. His parents had gone to bed.
His parents were asleep.
Quickly, he grabs a bag and stuff as many important things as he can inside of it, making sure to grab as many journals and books as possible, along with both of James’ sweatshirts he had yet to give back. He was running on pure adrenaline, otherwise he would have been terrified to do what he was about to do. To do what he should’ve done so many years ago.
To follow his brother.