Chapter 12
Sirius
“Oh!” Sirius exclaims cheerily. “James brought you the balms! Have you tried them?”
Regulus nods a little.
“Did they help the pain?” Sirius asks.
Again, Regulus nods, not quite looking up from his lap.
Relief blooms in Sirius’s chest. They’re going to fix him. They’re going to help.
“I know you said no, earlier,” Sirius starts, walking over to the bed. “But if you change your mind, Remus would be happy to take a look at those cuts. He’s pretty good at healing magical scratches since he—” Sirius cuts off quickly, not wanting to expose Remus’s darkest secret. “Well, he’s got some healing experience.” He covers.
Regulus doesn’t respond. He just keeps sitting there on the edge of the bed, hands in his lap, head bowed. The perfect obedient Black.
Sirius nearly starts crying again. Instead, he busies himself straightening some of the boxes in the room. They don’t need to be straightened, really, but he needs to keep his hands busy.
“James mentioned getting out the Exploding Snaps deck, do you want to play a round or two?” Sirius asks.
Regulus doesn’t answer. He doesn’t even move.
Sirius watches Regulus’s chest carefully, just to make sure he’s still breathing.
In. Out. Good.
“Or maybe you’re ready for bed? I know it’s still early yet, but they say an early night is good for you.”
Nothing. No response.
“I—I could get you a book to read, or something.” Sirius tries desperately.
A flicker. A twitch. It was faint, tiny, but he’s sure of it. Regulus’s eye moved.
“Excellent! Great!” Sirius chirps, trying to sound as enthusiastic as he can, just in case his pep might rub off a little.
Sirius starts digging around in one of the boxes against the wall.
“One of these has books, I’m sure of it.” He roots around in box after box, pushing aside old Gryffindor clothing, scratched records, and a muggle TV he keeps meaning to ask Lily or Remus to set up.
After the third or fourth box, Regulus gets off of the bed and walks to a box a few feet from where Sirius was looking. The side of the box is labeled in big, black sharpie “Books”.
“Oh, right, there they are.” Sirius says, peeling the tape off of the lid. “It’s mostly stuff from Hogwarts, old textbooks and such, but there might be something good.”
Regulus starts shifting the books in the box around, moving slowly and methodically, reading each and every title. About two thirds of the way down, Regulus’s fingers stop on the spine of a book. “Hélas, Je me suis Transfiguré Les Pieds”.
It is an old book, one of the few Sirius had brought with him to Hogwarts his first year. The book itself isn’t very good, it’s a novel adaptation of a play where the main character accidentally transfigures his feet and can’t figure out how to get them back. Sirius used to read Regulus when they were kids, and the two of them would make a great game of acting out the scenes. They’d pretend to transfigure their feet into more and more ridiculous things until their loud laughter attracted Walburga’s stern voice, telling them to be quiet and do something useful with themselves. It’s been ages since Sirius thought about that.
“Oh yeah.” Sirius murmurs, looking at the book in Regulus’s hands. “I remember that.” He looks up, dragging himself from the memory.
“Do you want to come to the living room to read? You’ll have better light in there. Or I could cast a light charm on some of these boxes, or something.” Sirius suggests.
Regulus doesn’t answer, just goes back over to the bed and sits down.
“Oh, um. I’ll come check on you in a bit then, yeah?” Sirius says awkwardly, disappointment crawling up his throat.
Regulus doesn’t open the book, but holds it out, as if offering it to Sirius.
Sirius takes a tentative step forward and reaches for the book.
Regulus nods a little, handing it easily to him.
The disappointment in Sirius’s throat turns to something harder. He swallows it down.
“You—do you want me to read it to you?” Sirius asks quietly.
Regulus nods again, the very tips of his lips quirking upward.
Sirius breaks into a huge grin.
“Yeah! Of course! Let me go get a chair!”
Sirius races out of the room and pulls one of the chairs from the kitchen table, ignoring James’s questions of what the heck he’s doing.
He rushes back into Regulus’s room to find the boy already changed into James’s old pj’s and climbing under the covers of the bed.
Sirius sits his chair at Regulus’s side and opens the cover of the book, trying to ignore the itch in his nose at the poof of dust that flies up.
Sirius’s eyes skim over the first page. The book is written entirely in French, and while both Sirius and Regulus had learned French from their mother, Sirius hadn’t used it since he was ten or eleven. He’s forgotten most of it, but he and Reggie read this book so many times, he could nearly recite it from heart. He clears his throat and begins to read.
Regulus
Regulus rests his head back against the pillow, listening to Sirius’s smooth voice glide over the familiar French words. It’s been so long since Regulus heard this story. Once Sirius left for school, it didn’t feel quite the same. This book had been one of Regulus’s happiest memories as a kid. He’d sit curled up next to his brother, head leaning on his shoulder, taking in the wild adventures of a crazy wizard. It feels good to hear it again. It makes him feel warm and fuzzy all over, remembering the two of them playing pretend and doubling over with laughter.
Even still, the happy memories are tinged with grief. Once, he and Sirius were pretending to have transfigured their feet into fizzing whizbees. They were running around and making explosion sounds, pretending to fall over with surprise at the noise their own feet were making when their mother came in. She looked at them with utter disdain and disgust, threatening them that if they didn’t shut up, she’d transfigure their throats into dirty socks and leave them like that for the rest of the week. Regulus had immediately quieted, but Sirius wasn’t so easily threatened. He thought it was hilarious. He was still chuckling about it even as he peeled himself off of the stone wall Walburga’s spell had flung him against.
It was always like that, Sirius getting in trouble and Regulus standing by. Sirius always looked out for him, taking the blame for Regulus’s accidental bursts of magic or minor mistakes. He’ll never forget how Sirius would push the younger boy behind him, getting in between Regulus and their mother’s rage. How he’d shove Regulus into the nearest room and out of eyesight when they heard her footsteps approaching. Sirius was always there for him. Until he met James.
After an hour or so, Sirius closes the book and sets it down softly, assuming Regulus’s stillness for sleep. Regulus does not move; he just lies there as he feels the bed shift under Sirius’s weight. He just lies there, eyes closed, as Sirius curls up beside him, shoulders pressed together.
“Demain viendra” Sirius whispers.
The response comes to Regulus automatically. Et je serai là. He thinks.
Soon, Sirius’s breathing deepens and turns into gentle snores.
And Regulus just lies there, staring at the blackness behind his eyes, unable to sleep.