Regulus hadn't had the dream in a while. It was more of a memory really, a nostalgia-drenched memory full of golden sunlight and the sprawling green pastures of the French countryside. He and Sirius had only been 5 and 6, chasing each other around the wildflower field, dipping their feet in the nearby stream, and eating walnuts off the tree at the edge of the Black property. They used to sit cross-legged in the tall grass, crushing walnut shells with rocks and throwing them in each other's mouths, their bare feet dirty and their faces flushed from being in the sun all day. It was one of the few good memories from childhood, before Walburga sunk her claws into them, forcing them to grow up to mold them into her perfect heirs.
Regulus woke up with tears on his cheeks and a persistent hollowness that pressed into his chest. He didn't really know then, there was no way for him to, but somehow his body seemed to sense what had happened that night. Walburga was dead.
He wiped his face with the back of his hand, glancing over his shoulder to find James still passed out, an arm thrown lazily over Regulus' waist, his face pressed against his pillow, and his mouth slightly open. Regulus turned slowly to not wake him, shifting closer to tuck his head under James' chin, and tangled their legs together, sighing softly against his chest. He couldn't place the heavy feeling in his chest, it wasn't anxiety or depression as far as he could tell, he wasn't upset or overwhelmed, he just felt off. So, in the light of late morning, Regulus snuggled into the blankets and the warm body next to him, falling into a state of half-sleep and remembering soft summers, the taste of walnuts, and the feel of soft grass underneath bare feet. He wrapped himself tightly in the surreal nostalgia, until the world felt very far away, far away from a 14-year-old version of him running away from home with his big brother and far away from the memory of his mother's sharp magic and the shadows of Grimmauld Place.
It was another 30 minutes before James shifted, slowly waking up to a head of curly black hair tickling his neck, "Hello, you," He murmured, burying his nose in Regulus' hair and pressing a light kiss there. Regulus sighed, cracking open his eyes and reluctantly coming back to the present, the unknown feeling still sitting heavily on his chest. He brushed his lips lightly against James' collarbone, leaving behind featherlight kisses and trying to chase away the feeling with the warmth emanating from his boyfriend.
He allowed himself another moment of lazy kisses and light touches before pulling away, rolling over to stretch and throwing his legs over the side of the bed. "If we don't get up now, we'll end up in bed all day like heathens," Regulus said in response to James' groan, ignoring the hand tugging on his sleep shirt to pull him back in.
"I'm perfectly fine with that, it's Saturday, let us be heathens Reg," He complained, reaching blindly behind him for his glasses on the bedside table. James shoved them on his face and smiled widely at his boyfriend, his eyes still a bit puffy with sleep and his hair flattened on the side he slept on.
"Well, I want tea, and you, Mon Soleil, need a shower," He replied, wrinkling his nose at James playfully and throwing a pillow at his face before dancing out of reach, rolling his eyes at his indignant protest and ducking to avoid the pillow that sailed by his head as he walked to the kitchen.
He rubbed absently at his chest while he moved around the kitchen, making tea the muggle way Remus taught him, finding a bit of comfort in the routine now. Regulus heard the shower running faintly as he made the cups of tea, setting James' under a stasis charm so it stayed warm and curling up on the sofa with his book. He tried to sink into the book, attempting to block out the world to escape the uneasiness that plagued him all morning, but he struggled to disappear as he had earlier, an unknown dread swirling in his stomach without cause. He reread the same page several times but couldn't get his mind to focus. Regulus groaned frustratedly as he closed the book, throwing it on the couch, and getting up to refill his cup of tea when his phone rang loudly. The familiar tendrils of anxiety wrapped around him as he grabbed it, Sirius' name lighting up on the screen.
"What?" Regulus said into the phone, wincing at the sharpness of his tone. He didn't mean to sound so cold, but he couldn't help the way anxiety was clawing at his throat. He gripped the cup of tea tightly, standing alone in the middle of the kitchen, listening to his brother's heavy breathing. "Sirius, what happened?"
"Reg," Sirius panted, sounding as if he was running and Regulus wondered if he was having one of his panic attacks. Regulus struggled against the instinct to shout at him for taking so long to answer, "Is James with you?" Sirius finally got out, the words sounding thick like he was fighting the urge to cry.
"James? Yeah, he's here, why? What's going on?" Regulus' stomach squirmed again with worry, mind racing as he tried to discern what could possibly have his brother so upset and what it had to do with his boyfriend.
"I-I'm sorry Reg, it's Walburga, she's- she died last night. Stroke, they think, Narcissa called me," He stuttered out, the words slightly garbled. Regulus' stomach dropped, the dream and the odd feeling he'd felt all morning suddenly making sense. His ears began to ring, a high-pitched tone that drowned out Sirius' voice. His grip loosened on the cup without volition, and he flinched violently as it shattered into pieces on the kitchen floor.
"Oh," He whispered, more to himself than Sirius, that persistent hollowness he had felt all morning began to spread through his body, enveloping him in a cold ache that left him almost numb. Almost. Regulus pulled the phone away from his ear, not wanting to hear Sirius' response, staring blankly at the shattered mug and tea that spread in a puddle on the floor.
Walburga was dead, the woman who had made their lives hell, the woman who had brushed his hair softly and played piano for him when he was young, the woman who tried to kill his brother the day they ran away, was dead.
Walburga Black was not good or kind, but she could be when she believed they'd still be useful to her. Regulus knew that she only loved the role Sirius and Regulus were meant to play in their family, he knew that the moment they failed to live up to her expectations any softness Walburga might have had was gone. But regardless, Regulus loved her and for most of his life, did everything he could to be loved by her. Because she was his mother and he was her son, they were bound together inextricably. Or, they used to be.
His thoughts flit across his mind so fast he could barely make sense of them, flashes of memories, of moments that he wasn't sure were entirely real raced past; Walburga, smiling at him on his 5th birthday, Walburga, slapping him for breaking a vase, Walburga, teaching him to coil his curls with her fingers. Walburga, letting Bellatrix crucio him the night they ran away, nearly killing him without flinching.
James left the bathroom in a hurry to the sound of glass shattering, impatiently flicking wet hair out of his eyes and shoving his glasses onto his face as he made his way to the kitchen. Regulus was just... standing there, staring at the ground, his expression wiped clean, all of the softness of the morning gone.
One of Regulus' defense mechanisms growing up was disappearing in his head, going somewhere far, far from Grimmauld Place. He doesn't know where Regulus goes, but he knows that when he's too overwhelmed or afraid, he sometimes forces his mind out of his body to survive whatever’s happening, to make it easier to get through. James also knows that it's hard to come back, Regulus described it as being pulled underwater, quickly going from floating numbly to drowning once reality comes crashing in.
"Reg? Love?" Regulus did not look up, his grey eyes were dull and empty, fixed on the broken mug on the floor. James walked towards him slowly, afraid to startle him, but desperate to get Regulus to look at him so he could find out what was wrong. "Regulus," He tried again, ducking his head to meet his eyes, his heart clenching at the vacancy he found in them. As he inched closer, he could hear Sirius' frantic voice coming through the phone held loosely at Regulus' side, seemingly forgotten. Worry beginning to nag at him as he scrutinized his boyfriend's blank face. James cupped the hand holding the phone in his own, tugging it out of Regulus' grasp and putting it to his ear, threading his fingers through his boyfriend's, though he didn't seem to notice the change, hardly twitching.
"Sirius?" James spoke into the phone, gaze stuck on his boyfriend's face, gnawing on his lip anxiously.
"Prongs, is he okay? I heard something break, I'm coming over, okay, I'm-" Sirius blurted out the words like he was running out of time, voice strained like he wasn't taking breaths between the words.
"Hey, Pads, take a couple of deep breaths for me, okay? I'm with him, he's tucked himself away again, but I've got him. What happened?" He squeezed Regulus' hand, watching his face for any reaction, his shoulders dropping a bit when he felt Regulus squeeze back weakly, though his eyes remained far away.
"Walburga's dead, Prongs," Sirius said after a few moments, "She's dead, and Reg is- I'm worried about him,"
James blew out a harsh breath, immediately consumed with overwhelming worry for the both of them, "Oh, Sirius. Is Moony with you?" He asked, squeezing Regulus' hand again.
"Yeah, yeah, we were just out at the shops when I got the call. Tell Reg I'll be there as soon as I can, please?" Sirius' voice cracked on the word, thick with emotion, and James knew he cared less about Walburga's death than Regulus' reaction to it. Sirius was surely upset too, just not the same way he knew Regulus was. Regulus loved his parents despite their failure to be good to him, his worth was always tangled up in their approval and his desire to be loved by them for so long, it was impossible for him to hate them the way Sirius always did.
"Alright, take your time, okay, Pads? I've got him, let Moony be there for you and come when you're ready. I need you to take care of yourself too before you go into big brother mode, got it?" James insisted, keeping his voice low and steady, hoping Sirius listened. He waited for Sirius to answer before exchanging I love yous and Be careful, hanging up and stepping around the mess on the floor.
He brought his hands to cup Regulus' face, gently tilting his head so their eyes met, brushing his thumbs across his cheeks, "Come back to me, love, I'm here," James murmured softly, watching Regulus' eyes intently as they began to slowly focus on him again, the emptiness lingering before despair suddenly flooded his face, leaving him breathless and devastated in its wake.
"Jamie," He choked, drowning in anguish that was particular to the Black family, the name barely leaving his mouth before his knees buckled underneath him. James struggled to catch him before he cut himself on the glass, grabbing him around the waist and sliding an arm under his knees, lifting Regulus up and away from the mess swiftly. Regulus only burrowed into him, crying in earnest now, violent sobs that shook his body leaving him gasping with a pain so palpable James felt it in his own chest. James settled them on the couch, Regulus in his lap, entirely oblivious to the change, while James stroked his back, and his hair, his other hand wiping the tears that wouldn't stop streaming.
"I'm sorry, baby, I am. I know, I know," James soothed, rocking them slightly.
"She was good, s-sometimes, she was- she was, and I-" He shuddered as he wept, pressing a shaking hand to his chest as if he could find the source of the ache and rip it out.
Regulus' words started and stopped over and over as he tried to verbalize the devastating grief he felt for the woman who never treated him as a mother should, whom he loved so much anyway. James tucked a stray curl behind his ear, shaking his head as he tried to make out what his boyfriend was saying, but the words were too rushed and panicked, interrupted by harsh gasps for air. Regulus gave up after a few tries, a whine escaped from his mouth and he pressed a trembling hand to it, trying to suppress the sound, chest heaving rapidly as he fought for oxygen that wouldn't fill his lungs.
"Hey, okay, love," James pried the hand away from his mouth, guiding it to rest on his own chest so Regulus could feel his heartbeat, holding it there while he cupped his face with the other hand. "Look at me, just breathe with me, you're alright,"
"I-I can't hate her, I still love her, I still-" Regulus hiccuped, shoulders jerking up to his ears as he tried to speak through strangled breaths. James squeezed the hand resting on his chest, leaning forward to press his forehead against Regulus' temple, puffing warm exhales against his cheek.
"Shh, I know, darling, breathe with me first, then we can talk." Regulus nodded against his temple, giving up on his efforts to explain the desperate thoughts tumbling around his brain.
He focused instead on the way James' lips brushed his cheek with every slow exhale, the way he played with the curls on the nape of his neck, wrapping them around his fingers and combing through. He tried not to think about Walburga, he tried not to think about why it hurt and why it probably shouldn’t. Regulus settled slowly over the next few minutes, breaths evening out though James could still feel the way his body shook against him with every shaky inhale. When he felt more stable, he untangled himself from James' warmth, retracting his arms from their place around his neck and pulling back into himself, moving to stand on wobbly legs.
"Hey, where are you going?" James asked, reaching out for him on instinct and dropping his hand when Regulus gingerly stepped out of reach, avoiding eye contact. Regulus wished he could crack open his ribs and let James inside to see it all, to untangle the knot of pain and grief that suffocated him. But he couldn’t find the words, he wasn’t sure they exist, Regulus just needed to disappear, he needed an escape.
"I'm tired, I'm going to lie down," He murmured, hugging himself, that faraway look in his bloodshot eyes creeping in again.
James eyed him warily for a moment before speaking, a strained smile on his face, "Okay, love, Sirius should be here soon. Go rest, I'll clean up the kitchen,"
"Is he okay?" Regulus asked, frowning a little when he realized he hadn't been thinking about Sirius' reaction to everything. He'd probably scared his brother half to death, ignoring him like he had.
"He was more worried about you than anything else, I think, but Remus is with him, so he's not alone," He stated, itching to reach out and comfort his boyfriend when he pressed his hands to his eyes and groaned. Regulus nodded from behind his hands, pulling them back with a sniff and wordlessly retreating to their bedroom. James watched him go, hanging his head and blowing out a breath, giving himself a minute to reign in his worry before shooting a message to Sirius.
~
It was late afternoon before Sirius showed up with Remus in tow, sporting the cracked and well loved leather jacket he’d found in Alphard’s things. He immediately made a beeline for James, pulling him into a rough hug that knocked the breath out of both of them momentarily.
"Is he okay?" Sirius whispered over James' shoulder as they held each other equally tight. He wanted to come running the moment he hung up the phone, but Remus made him slow down and take some time to process the news himself. Moony was good for him in that way, he loved Sirius' protectiveness, but Remus knew his inability to care for himself when his brother was involved, and often was the one to set the boundary when Sirius couldn't bring himself to.
James pulled back to look at him, worrying at his lip and responding in a hushed whisper, "I don't think so. He was with me for a bit, then he pulled back and disappeared again. I made lunch, but he's not eating or drinking anything I offer," His hazel eyes were round behind his glasses and his unruly hair stuck up wildly like it did when he ran his hands through it too many times.
Sirius nodded like he wasn't surprised, "You're doing good, Prongs, this just happens sometimes. Go take a break with Moony, yeah? I've got him," He gave his best friend a pat on the shoulder, and a small smile before making his way to the bedroom.
Regulus had buried himself in blankets, only half of his face visible, his eyes stuck somewhere on the wall, very far away. The glass of water and cheese toastie James had clearly left was untouched on the table next to the bed. Sirius sighed through his nose, pinching his lips together in worry, he's seen his little brother like this several times over the years, but it was almost always within Grimmauld Place. He usually didn't need to disappear when he was in the outside world, and Sirius felt that familiar hatred for Walburga rise within him again, sparking a flame that always made Sirius want to break something.
He didn't feel grief for her death, all the news really did was make him angry, irrationally so, bringing up all of the rage that bubbled underneath his skin whenever her influence made itself known. Sometimes in the way that both Black brothers' words shoot to kill when they're angry, sharp, and often cruel, their tongues were dangerous weapons for those on the other end of it. Sirius lashes out when he feels helpless or cornered, he has his mother's eyes, and Regulus has confessed to him once that it scares him sometimes, how much he can look like her when he's angry.
Regulus becomes freezing cold when afraid, building walls too high for anyone to climb and disappearing into himself, donning a mask identical to that of Orion Black's quiet and eerily calm stoicism. Walburga Black was dead, but her impact was very much alive, and it made Sirius want to fight something or someone, maybe Orion. He'd just had this awful fury scratching at him since Narcissa called, he didn't know what to do with it or himself. Sirius was very much a mess, just not for the same reasons his little brother was.
Sirius settled on the bed next to his brother, lifting a hand to rest on his shoulder and squeezing, waiting for the glassy look in Regulus' eyes to recede before speaking, "Où es-tu allée, petite étoile?"
Regulus blinked a few times, his brain sluggishly processing the input around him, Sirius' hand on his shoulder, the comforting smell of a cheese toastie, and cigarette smoke from his brother's jacket enveloping him. Sirius nudged him and he blinked again, realizing he was asked a question, Regulus rubbed at his chest absently, wishing the ache would fade already. His voice was subdued when he spoke, almost dreamy like he was still far away, "Do you remember the summers we spent in France?"
"Yeah, 'course, we had a lot of fun there," Sirius answered, a little surprised at the turn in conversation, but grateful his brother was responsive nonetheless.
Regulus nodded, a tiny, sad smile tucked in the corner of his mouth, "I dream about it, still. What it was like before we were heirs when we were just kids and our parents treated us as such. Sometimes it's the only good thing I can remember from our childhood, maybe because it is," Regulus looked very young all of a sudden, meeting his brother's eyes for the first time, a million emotions filling his grey eyes, "Do you think Mother ever loved us? Like when we were young, she did nice things, right? I didn't make it up?"
Sirius moved his hand to Regulus' hair, tugging on the curls lightly, his mouth twisted as he thought of what to say. The truth was, Walburga never did anything to be kind or loving, she’d never acted selflessly. She always had motives for her “kindnesses” if you could ever really call it that. It was Sirius who had comforted Regulus when he scraped his knees, Sirius who held him and shushed him when he had nightmares, Sirius who had given him presents on his birthday when his parents forgot, Sirius practically raised him. But he knew Regulus needed a reason to grieve Walburga, he knew Regulus needed something good to hold onto.
"I don't think of her like you do, Reggie, but I..." Sirius hesitated, he'd never told anyone this memory, it was too confusing, too painful, but not in the way most memories of Walburga were for him. It was painful because it didn't make sense. He steeled himself, withdrawing his hand from Regulus' hair to fiddle with his fingers.
"There was one time, you were really sick. Dragon pox, I think you were maybe 3, so you probably don't remember. But the healers thought you might not get better, they said dragon pox could be life threatening for young children, and you were sick for a long time. I was scared for you, I remember having a nightmare, and trying to sneak into your room one night to make sure you were okay. I caught Wal- Mother, sitting up in bed with you, reading you a story while you coughed and shook,” Sirius closed his eyes, seeing it all with perfect clarity in his head. He took a deep breath before continuing, “It was the first time that I thought, maybe she did love you but she just- I wasn't worthy of her love." His voice cracked at the end, and Sirius looked away, surprising himself with the complicated rise of emotion that formed a lump in his throat.
Regulus was quiet for a long moment, eyes brimming with tears as he studied his brother. He wriggled an arm out of the blankets he was covered in and peeled back the cover, tugging on Sirius' arm, pulling him down until he joined Regulus, lying next to him on the bed. Sirius wiped at his face, nearly laughing at the sudden grief that swiftly replaced the anger he felt for the woman he despised most in the world, at the one selfless act she might've done in her entire life.
Regulus shuffled forward, wrapping his brother in his arms and squeezing, "You are worthy, she just didn't know what love was, she didn't know how to love, not really. Tu étais ce qu’il y avait de mieux dans cette maison, Sirius," He murmured, letting his brother cry for what might have been the first time that day, finally releasing what he'd been keeping in. The ache in Regulus’ chest eased, just a bit, with his brother next to him, sharing in it, understanding what no one else could.
Walburga Black was dead, and she was not good or kind, she did not know how to love or be loved, but it hurt anyway because she was their mother, and everything that she wasn't hurt as much as everything she was.