Chapter 30
Regulus
Regulus nearly groans as the painful sounds of an out-of-tune guitar tear him away from sleep. It’s not like he was sleeping particularly well, his dreams are still filled with monsters and memories, but any sleep is better than no sleep. In his nightmares it’s a distant sort of pain, unlike the crushing dread and disappointment he feels when waking up.
Regulus rolls over and presses the pillow against his ears. It’s too early for this.
The singing begins. It’s not that Sirius has a bad voice, he has a great voice, but it’s too loud. And it’s so out of tune. Regulus knows Sirius can hear how out of tune it is, he and Sirius both had years of music lessons growing up. If Regulus’s violin were ever this out of tune, Walburga would have ripped it from his hands and boxed his ears. If Sirius played this many discordant notes on the piano, she would have slammed the cover on his fingers. Perhaps that’s why Sirius refuses to tune the blasted guitar, it’s some sort of rebellion. The defiance of the act is lost of Regulus, but as always, he wishes Sirius would rebel a little quieter.
Giving up, Regulus pulls himself out of the bed and starts looking for those earmuffs James pulled out the other day.
Just as Regulus extracts the fluffy things from their box, there is a knock on his door and it opens a crack.
James’s head pops in.
“Ah, I thought I might find you here.” He says, wincing as Sirius hits a high note that the guitar doesn’t quite reach.
Regulus extends the sparkly white muffs towards him.
James enters the room and takes them gratefully, before settling down in the chair like he’s done it a million times before.
Regulus admires his confidence and the easy way he moves through a room. He’s graceful and sleek. He knows himself and just assumes everyone will accept him for it. And lucky for James, they always do.
Regulus slips the pink muffs over his own ears.
James kicks up his socked feet onto the bed and tries to shout something over the din.
Regulus sees his mouth move, but can’t hear anything. He shakes his head and points to the muffs.
James tries to shout again, but it’s little more than a general mumble of sound.
James holds up a finger and pulls his wand out of his pocket. He points it at his muffs and says some incantation. Then he raises an eyebrow and points the wand at Regulus.
“Diffindo!”
“Imperio!”
“Crucio!”
Regulus’s eyes go wide as his mother’s voice rings in his ears. He takes a little step back, his blood pounding in his ears. He feels faint. He’s swaying. He can’t get enough air and his hands and face are going tingly. Black, everything is going black.
The bed. He needs to get to the bed. He needs to lay down. He needs to run. He needs to face her. He needs to let her do it. He needs to—
There are arms around him, supporting him. James. With his athlete reflexes, he has moved behind Regulus before he could fall and is holding him upright. One arm wrapped tight around Regulus’s stomach, the other circled under his left arm, lifting him up. The wand is out of sight.
James shifts one of the muffs off of Regulus’s ear and leans in. His lips are gently brushing against Regulus’s ear as he speaks.
“Breathe, Regulus. In and out, with my count, okay? Follow my breathing.”
James takes deep, exaggerated breaths, his chest rising and falling against Regulus’s back. Regulus tries to match his lead, but his chest is gasping so raggedly, aching for air but refusing to accept it.
“In and out, Reg. You can do it. It’s okay.”
His voice is so calm, so soothing, so close. Regulus closes his eyes and focuses on James’s breathing, trying to block out the guitar in the background and the embarrassment that will soon plague him. He just tries to breathe. He isn’t there anymore. She isn’t here. It’s okay. It’s okay.
After a moment, Regulus feels steadier on his feet. The spots in his vision fade and his heart slows.
James stops breathing so exaggerated. “Shit.” He murmurs in Regulus’s ear, sending shivers down his spine. “Sorry, I didn’t think.”
Regulus squeezes his eyes shut as shame floods his body, replacing the adrenaline. So dumb. He’s so dumb. He freaks out over nothing. It’s pathetic.
James removes his arms from Regulus, but doesn’t step away just yet. “I found a spell that will make the muffs block outside sound but let the wearers communicate with each other without interference, can I cast it on yours?”
The air feels colder where James’s body warmed his skin. He wishes he’d grab for him again. He wisjes James’s arms were still wrapped around him. But that’s stupid. That must be the lack of oxygen affecting his brain.
Regulus turns around to face James and removes the muffs, handing them over.
James casts the spell and hands them back.
This time, when Regulus slips them over his ears, they don’t just muffle sound, they eliminate it completely. The room is entirely silent.
“Do they work?”
James’s voice rings clear as day into Regulus’s ears.
Regulus nods. That’s a pretty impressive piece of magic.
James’s face alights with glee and he claps his hands together.
“Great!” he says as he moves back to the chair. “I figured if we’re stuck hiding from that racket, we could at least talk to each other.”
He flops back down into the chair, hair flopping with him.
Regulus just stands there, staring at him.
James grins, as if aware of why Regulus is staring. “I read this really interesting article the other day, want me to tell you about it?”
From anyone else that statement would make Regulus roll his eyes and leave the room, but it’s different from James. Yes, Regulus would like to listen to him talk. About anything.
He nods.
James launches into a recap of some article he read the other day, “Apparently, cats only meow because they’re trying to talk to humans in their own language, like they don’t need to vocalize to communicate with other cats, but since people use spoken language, cats try to too. Isn’t that neat?”
Regulus isn’t sure if it’s neat or not, but the eagerness in James’s voice is neat. The way his face is lit with curiosity and energy is neat. James is neat.
The best part about these improved muffs is that they won’t be able to tell when Sirius stops playing. Regulus can just listen to James talk for hours.
As Regulus listens to James bounce from topic to topic, he realizes something strange is happening in his brain. His brain is participating. He’s hearing James’s words and coming up with responses of his own, things he could add or opinions he could voice. Bits of information James might find interesting and funny little quips he could make. His brain is talking. He’s speaking. He has something to say. None of it is reaching his lips, of course, but the words are there. They aren’t on his tongue, but they are in his mind. He hasn’t come this close to conversation since… well… he’s not sure. Since sitting in the dorms with Barty and Evan, he supposes.
It's during James’s anecdote about the time he took Lily to Madam Puddifoot’s Tea Room and knocked a whole tray of teapots onto the floor that Regulus realizes that he wants to talk. He’s ready to talk. It’s time. He needed a rest, he needed to turn off and disappear, but now he’s ready to come back. He wants to come back so he can tell James about the cat that used to come by the window outside his bedroom window, or to ask James what his favorite Honeydukes candy is, or to joke about how silly Sirius looks when he wears his leather jacket in the middle of July. James is living in this whole other world, a world where he, Sirius, Remus, and everyone else talk about things other than blood purity, expectations, and appearances. They talk about real things. Things that matter. And Regulus wants to be a part of that.
It’s a terrifying thought, really. For the first time in his entire life, Regulus actually wants to be a part of the world. Not just to follow his family’s orders or to agree with their ideas, no, he wants to participate, to make decisions.
But he can’t. It’s too much pressure. Existing is too hard. What if the world doesn’t want him back? What if Regulus opens his mouth and everything falls apart? What if he says or does something awful? At least when he’s just spitting up whatever his family tells him to, he doesn’t feel at fault for the results. When he’s doing what someone else says, it doesn’t feel like it’s really him to blame. But now he’s free. He’s on his own. And if he messes up, it’s him messing up. He might make Sirius leave again. He might make James hate him. And Regulus can’t handle that. He can’t go through that again.
It’s best if he just stays quiet. Besides, now doesn’t seem like the right time to talk. His first words after so long should be special, right? Something powerful or meaningful, something deep and profound, or at the very least, important. He can’t just comment on the weather and cal is a day. That feels sacrilegious, somehow. No, he’ll wait until he has something important to say. But nothing particularly special ever happens to Regulus. He never has much to say. Which is probably why he stopped talking in the first place.