Chapter 3
Sirius
Sirius rushes past the kitchen on his way upstairs. James jumps up and follows Sirius.
“Clothes, he needs clothes.” Sirius says. “Do you have any? I have some from a few years ago, but they’re still going to be too big on him. He’s so small. So thin. I don’t remember him being that thin.”
He’s talking too fast. He’s rambling a bit, he knows he is, but he can’t help it. His head is so busy, so frantic. So scared. It wasn’t supposed to be like this. Regulus was the golden child. He wasn’t supposed to get hurt. He was supposed to be okay.
Sirius starts throwing clothes out of his wardrobe, looking for something soft and small.
James puts a hand on Sirius’s shoulder. “I’ll get some old pajamas for him, okay? Don’t worry about it. And I’ve already set up the guest bedroom for him. Go back downstairs, bring him to the room, and I’ll get the clothes.”
Sirius keeps digging through the wardrobe. He’s not even looking at the clothes, really, he’s just shoving things around, giving his brain something to look at other than what’s playing over and over in his head.
James gives his shoulder a squeeze. “We’ve got him, Sirius. He’s safe.”
Thank goodness for James. Thank goodness he can keep a cool head. Sirius is so lucky to have a friend like that, someone to balance him out.
“Yeah, yeah. Okay.” Sirius stands back up, feeling a little bit calmer now. He turns to look at James, “Thanks, Prongs. I—Thank you.”
James gives Sirius’s shoulder a gentle squeeze. “Of course, mate.” Then disappears into his own room.
Sirius rushes back downstairs and is relieved to find Regulus just where he left him, sitting in the bathroom.
“James is finding you something.” He says. “But he’s made up the spare bed for you, it’s—are you ready to go?”
Regulus nods and pulls on the dirty shirt.
Sirius leads Regulus to the room, looking back at him every few steps as if afraid Regulus might vanish if he takes his eyes away.
The extra room is rarely used and has been mostly taken over for storage. The walls are crowded with stacks of cardboard boxes and the blinds on the small window have been crooked since Sirius and James moved in, but James made quick work of tidying up the place. The bed is neatly made up with crisp white sheets and a big, fluffy quilt. The dust has been magically charmed away from every surface, and a lamp has been pulled out of one of the boxes and is casting a yellowish light around the room.
Regulus stops in the doorway, not quite coming in. The look on his face is blank, but Sirius can guess what he’s thinking.
“Cozier than Grimmauld Place, isn’t it?” Sirius says. He remembers the first time he set foot in the Gryffindor common room. It was all warm light and pillows. Very different from the austere minimalism his parents seemed to prefer, and from what he’s heard, pretty different from the Slytherin accommodations.
Regulus takes slow steps into the room, going over to the window and pushing the gauzy white curtains away.
Sirius watches his brother from a few paces away. He wants to stand next to him, to hug him again and tell him that everything will be okay. He wants to draw Regulus tight and promise him that big brother Sirius will keep him safe, just like he used to when they were kids.
But they aren’t kids anymore. And Sirius didn’t keep that promise, did he?