Chapter 20
James
James is sitting on the couch with a copy of Seeker Weekly when the screaming starts.
He leaps from the couch, wand in hand, looking for the source of the sound, preparing for whatever attack is to come. It starts so suddenly and unexpectedly that it takes James a moment to realize who the screamer is—Regulus.
James dashes down the hall and throws open the door to Regulus’s room. Is it the Death Eaters? Is it Walburga? Did they come for him?
But when he turns on the light, there is no one else in the room. All he can see is Regulus, writhing and screaming as if his insides were being torn out of him. His hands are clenched to the sides of his head, slender fingers digging into his black hair. His face has more color than James has ever seen, it’s bright red and there are tears streaming down his sweaty cheeks.
James casts a few quick spells, trying to reveal the invisible attacker or call off whatever spell Regulus is under. There is nothing, though. With all the wards on the house, surely James would know if someone had entered. No, this is a different type of intruder.
Regulus’s tired voice is becoming more and more hoarse with every throat-ripping cry. James runs to Regulus’s side, shaking him to try and wake him. Some small, still-thinking part of his brain latches on to the fact that this is yet another difference between the Black brothers. Sirius had nightmares too, still does sometimes, but he isn’t much of a screamer, more of a whimperer.
James is glad Regulus isn’t whimpering. The screaming isn’t much better, but it’s nice to hear Regulus’s voice again. It sounds just as angry as James remembers.
Regulus
Screaming, screaming, screaming. And then she’s on him again. Her hands are on him. She’s going to kill him. She’s going to do it this time. And he’s screaming, screaming, screaming.
“Regulus! Hey!”
Screaming. Screaming. Screaming.
She’s shaking him, shouting at him.
“Reg! Reggie! Hey! It’s okay!”
Reggie. Mother would never call him Reggie.
The dream immediately melts from Regulus’s eyes, fading away before him His voice cuts off abruptly, like a needle being pulled off a record.
He can see now, he can breathe. But it isn’t Sirius in front of him. The hair is just as black, but the eyes… the eyes are misshapen. No, not misshapen, glasses-wearing. The eyes are framed by glasses.
James is at his side, shaking him from sleep. When he sees that Regulus is awake, he drops the boy.
Regulus sits back and wipes at his cheeks. Great. He was crying in front of Potter. What a nightmare to wake into.
“Hey, sorry, I—you—” Potter stumbles with uncharacteristic awkwardness. “You were having a nightmare.”
Regulus glares at the boy. Obviously, he was having a nightmare, and he’s hoping that now that he’s awake from said nightmare, Potter will leave him alone.
Unfortunately, Potter, with all his good breeding, doesn’t just abandon Regulus to piece himself together again. He keeps standing there, looking at Regulus as if he were an animal in the zoo.
Regulus brings the pillow around into his lap, as if it were some sort of shield between him and Potter’s stupid, hazel eyes. He glances around the room, noticing the darkness outside and surprising lack of Sirius.
As if reading his mind, James responds.
“Um, Sirius isn’t here right now. He—erm—went out, but he left you a note” James points to the bedside table.
Regulus quickly snatches it up and skims it while Potter waits uncomfortably.
Out with Remus. Part of Regulus is mad that here he is, having the worst time of his life, while his prat of a brother is out shagging that book nerd, but the bigger, smarter part of Regulus is glad Sirius is getting one off. Goodness knows he’s been uptight these last few days, no thanks to Regulus. He could use a release.
Regulus puts the note down.
James shifts nervously, as if worried Regulus might be a snake about to attack.
“Can I get you anything?” he offers, “Some tea, maybe?”
Regulus nearly rolls his eyes. Tea. Everyone keeps making him tea, as if tea will somehow magically make things okay. In Potter’s world, that’s probably true. Regulus bets Potter has never had a problem in his entire life that wasn’t fixed with a mug of tea and a nice chat with mummy and daddy. Spoiled prick.
James rubs the back of his neck. “Yeah, I know. We’ve been offering you a lot of tea lately. Between the four of us, we’ve gone through three boxes just this week, and fat lot of good it’s done.”
If Regulus’s occlumency shields hadn’t been good enough to keep out all but the most determined Walburga since he was fourteen or so, he might have thought Potter was reading his mind.
“How about firewhiskey?” James offers. “It won’t fix anything more than tea would, but it might give you a bit of distance from it all, help you calm down bit.
Might as well just Imperio me. Regulus thinks. I’ll be nice and calm with you doing whatever you want with me.
Regulus doesn’t mean it that way, but even thinking that in his own brain makes him blush a little.
Thankfully, James doesn’t seem to pick up on that thought. He walks over to the chair Sirius left in the room and scoots it a bit closer to the bed, plopping down into it.
Regulus wipes at his face and silently tries to expel the boy from the room with his mind.
It doesn’t work.
“Sirius used to have nightmares too, you know.”
Regulus didn’t know, but he tries not to show it.
James nods thoughtfully. “Terrible ones. He told me about them once or twice, but I think he might have been censoring the worst parts.”
Regulus isn’t exactly sure why James is telling him this, but he wants him to go on. He wants to hear more about his brother.
“He was terrified your mother would come to the house and tear him away again, drag him back to Black manor.”
Regulus looks away. He had been terrified of that too, for Sirius. But some darker, more evil part of him also wished for it. Dreamed of it. He’d fantasize Sirius showing up at his window late at night with his stupid, shit-eating grin, and some insane scheme to get them both out. He never did.
James sighs. “At the time, I thought that was his worst fear, your parents hunting him down and forcing him to be the perfect Black heir. Looking back, though, I think part of what made him so reckless and angry that year was that they never did. They never tried to get him back.”
James’s tone is sad and soft, but Regulus can’t muster any pity for Sirius. He feels nothing but bitterness. Sirius left. He got out. He found a shiny new life, and that was that. He never gave it a second thought.
James tilts his head ever so slightly, examining Regulus. “He worried about you after he left, you know. He didn’t just forget you.”
Regulus feels like he’s just swallowed a rock. How does Potter always know what he’s thinking?
“He didn’t say anything, not really, but you could tell. He’d watch you so carefully. He’d stare at you at the Slytherin table at meals and look for you on the train after holiday breaks. I think he was looking for signs. Signs that you were okay, signs that you weren’t. I told him once he should just go talk to you, have it out properly, but he said it would only make things worse, that you had a reputation to uphold as the heir to the noble and ancient house of Black. He said you couldn’t be seen talking to traitor scum like him, but he never stopped watching.”
James laughs a little. “You should have seen him after that quidditch match where the Hufflepuff beater accidentally knocked a bludger at you and you fell off your broom. It took both me and Remus and Pete to keep him from beating that Hufflepuff into a pulp! He wouldn’t go to the hospital wing to check on you, but he did bribe a poor first year Slytherin to ask Barty about you. I don’t know who the kid was more scared of, Barty, you, or Sirius.” He laughs again to himself.
Regulus looks away from Potter. He didn’t know that. He didn’t know any of this.
“Yeah. You mean a lot to him, Reg. He’s not going to give up on you. He’s not going to let you go.”
Regulus refuses to look at Potter, but he can feel James’s stare on his face.
“I’m not giving up either.” James adds softly. “You’re stuck with us, like it or not.”
A week ago Regulus would have cursed Potter for calling him anything so familiar as “Reg”. Now, though, Regulus feels tears pricking in his eyes. He stands up, grabbing his pajamas from the other end of the bed. This conversation needs to end. Now.
Finally, James gets the hint. He stands from the chair and slaps his knees. “Well, I’ll let you get changed and get back to sleep. But if you need anything, you know where to find me.”
As soon as the door shuts again, Regulus throws the pajamas aside and collapses back onto the bed. He stares at the ceiling that has become so familiar in the past week. All this time, he thought Sirius had given up on him. He thought Sirius hated him as much as he hated the rest of the Blacks. He would have been right to, after all, look at what Regulus had become, just another bitter, sour, hate-spouting madman. But Sirius, dear, sweet Sirius, didn’t give up. He was waiting. Waiting for Regulus to give him a sign as much as Regulus was waiting for one from him. Sirius cared. Sirius had always cared.
And that only makes Regulus feel worse.