Chapter 8
Remus
Remus gets a patronus from James in the wee hours of the morning, and even though Remus was sleeping happily, he immediately leaves for the flat. He apparates outside in the early morning sunlight and lets himself in, using the spare key James and Sirius first gave him when they moved in. He finds James sitting at the kitchen table, but no Sirius in sight.
“Hey Moons.” James says tiredly. “Want some tea?”
Remus pours himself a mug. “Where is he?”
James juts his chin towards the hall “In with Regulus. Has been for a few hours now.”
“And how is he?” Remus asks.
James shrugs. “Hard to tell with Sirius. Nervous, I think. Sad, maybe.”
Remus nods. He wasn’t there when Sirius showed up at the Potters’, but he saw him in the days after. He can only imagine what seeing Regulus in the same state is doing to Sirius.
“And Regulus… is he…”
James shakes his head. “Regulus seems okay enough. Shaken up. Sirius said he has some cuts, but that’s all I know.” James takes another sip of the tea.
“You don’t think it’s a trick, do you? That Regulus was sent as a spy, because they knew Sirius would welcome him in?” he asks.
Remus frowns. “I don’t know, Prongs. But if he is, and we find out that he is, I don’t think Sirius will… I don’t think he’ll…” Remus trails off, not entirely sure what that realization would do to his friend. Remus rubs a hand across his forehead.
“I just don’t want to see him get hurt.” he murmurs.
“Me neither, Moony.” James responds gloomily, glancing over at Sirius. “But I think it’s too late for that.”
An hour or so later, James finally goes to sleep. Remus starts to cook breakfast, and it isn’t long after that that Sirius emerges from the guest room with a chipper smile.
“Moony!” he cheers, wrapping his arms around Remus as he tries to flip a pancake.
“And you’ve made breakfast!” Sirius grabs a pancake off of the stack and shoves it in his mouth.
Remus turns around. “Hi, dear. How are you doing?”
Sirius smiles huge, “Great now that you’re here!”
He’s too happy, too cheerful. He’s clearly covering what he’s really thinking and feeling. But that’s okay, that’s just Sirius. Remus is willing to wait.
Regulus
Regulus is annoyed. He knows he has no right to be annoyed, but that doesn’t change the fact that he is. At first, it was nice waking up with Sirius next to him, comforting, even. It was sweet how Sirius brought him some pancakes and found some more clothes for Regulus. It was reassuring that Sirius was still interested in helping him. Now, though, it’s getting out of hand.
Sirius won’t give him a single second of peace and quiet. All day he’s been hovering with the nervous energy of a puppy. When Regulus refused to touch the pancakes, Sirius kept asking if he was okay or of there was something else he’d rather eat.
When Regulus left to go to the bathroom, Sirius followed behind him like a lost puppy. Regulus was half worried Sirius would follow him in. He probably would have, too, if Regulus hadn’t shut the door so quickly.
When Regulus winced a bit at the pain in his side, Sirius begged him to let Remus look at it. That’s another thing that’s annoying Regulus: Remus. He apparently showed up in the dead of night and while he hasn’t said two words to Regulus, he’s certainly done enough staring. It’s starting to make Regulus feel like some sort of freaky sideshow.
At least James is being normal. And by normal, he means infuriatingly friendly and nice. When Regulus finally ventures out of the guest room in the desperate hope Sirius would get distracted by something else in the flat, James doesn’t stare at him or ask any questions Regulus doesn’t want to answer. Instead, he keeps up a steady conversation about quidditch stats with himself and plops a mug of tea and the crossword from the Daily Prophet in front of Regulus. Sirius must have told him about Regulus’s love of puzzles.
It is the most peaceful fifteen minutes of the day. Eventually, though, Sirius just has to interrupt.
“How about a cheese toasty, Reg? You missed breakfast, so I’m sure you must be starved. And then I could get you some paper and a pencil if you want to draw. Do you still do that? I remember you used to do the best drawings of Kreacher. God, you’d make him look almost regal!” Sirius giggles.
Regulus’s stomach clenches at the mention of their house elf. He stands up from the table. He can’t take it any more. Why doesn’t Sirius get it? He doesn’t want to eat. He doesn’t want to draw. He doesn’t want to listen to Potter ramble or answer his inane questions. He wants to be dead. He wants to shut off his brain and never turn it on. He wants it to end.
Regulus hurries back to the guest room and shuts the door. Unfortunately, not before Sirius comes in behind him.
“Reg? What’s wrong?”
It’s a dumb question. Sirius probably knows it’s a dumb question. But he asked it anyway.
Regulus plops down on the bed and draws his knees up to his chest. He shouldn’t be so annoyed. He has no right to be so annoyed. Sirius is trying to help. Sirius is trying to be nice. Sirius isn’t the one who’s wrong here, Regulus is.
Sirius sits down on a corner of the bed, seeming to finally pick up on some of Regulus’s irritation.
“I just want to help you.” Sirius says softly, looking down at the quilt. “Why won’t you talk to me? What’s so horrible that you can’t even tell me?”
Regulus squeezes his eyes shut. If only. If only someone had done something so horrible to Regulus that he couldn’t talk about it. But that’s not it at all. No. it’s not what was done to Regulus, it’s what Regulus did. Awful, cowardly, spineless things. Things that if Sirius knew, he’d see his little brother for the useless, pathetic villain he is, and Regulus can’t take that. If one more person who he loves, one more person who is supposed to love him, looks at him with disgust and regret, it just might break him. No. It’s best if he stays quiet.
“You don’t even have to talk!" Sirius pleads, "You could write it down.”
Regulus squeezes his eyes tighter, wishing it would all just disappear.
“Or not even talk about whatever it was, just talk at all! About anything! The weather, quidditch, Remus’s tight ass!”
Regulus really wishes that weren’t in his head now.
“Please, Reggie. Please. I just want you to be okay. I just want to help fix you.”
He’s begging now. Pleading. But Regulus can’t give him anything. Sirius is right, he’s broken. He’s broken and he has no right to be. He’s the one who broke his own damn self. It’s his own fault. He shouldn’t have come here. He shouldn’t have come here.
He turns his head, looking out the window and ignoring Sirius. He retreats the quiet place in his mind and tries to picture a big, blank wall in his head, just like Sirius taught him to do when he was learning occlumency.
Eventually, Sirius gives up and leaves the room, and Regulus gets exactly what he wanted, an empty room filled with nothing but his own thoughts.