Limp
The first few weeks back at Hogwarts always feel like a constant celebration of nothing. Dumbledoor toasts every dinner just because he can, and everyone cheers just because they want to. James also felt excited, sure. It was different though. He didn’t have that fresh-faced natural glow of wonder the way the first years did. And he didn’t have that anticipation of freedom like the seventh years. He was just…happy. An appropriate amount of happiness to be with his friends again, and to play quidditch again, and to do whatever he wants again.
He was walking lazily through the corridor with his hands in his pockets when he was met with Professor Slughorn’s funny grin.
“Mr. Potter! pleasure to see you my boy, pleasure to see you!”
He grinned back “Hi Professor.”
“Is Mr. Black around here by any chance? Where there is one of you, the other is always close by!” he laughed.
“Sirius is up in the common room I believe, do you have a message or something for him professor?”
“No,no,no,” he pulled an envelope from his robe pocket, “for his sister Regulus, she had some questions for me about Angel’s Trumpet Draught, I wrote some things down for her, I assumed Sirius would know where she was.”
James was certain even the bloody first years were caught up on the state of the Black sibling relationship. Slughorn’s complete lack of self awareness, or awareness of any kind, was always an absolute treat to be reminded of. Oh how he missed this.
“Oh, no sir, better for me to deliver it.” James said quickly, snatching the envelope from his hand. God only knows what would happen if Sirius and Regulus were forced to interact for the first time since Grimmauld Place by Slughorn of all people.
“Very well my boy! Very well!” Slughorn clapped him on the shoulder as he passed him by.
James sighed, and continued strolling down the hall, now with a responsibility to fulfill. Great.
Black would certainly have no interest in speaking with him but it was better him than Sirius.
Angel’s Trumpet Draught…? What on earth was that? It sounded familiar, was it a poison? No, what the hell would Slughorn be doing giving information on poisons to students, that’s not something he would do.
Actually yeah, it’s exactly something he would do.
Especially for Regulus Black–one of his favorite students. Angel’s Trumpet Draught. If it was a poison, (he couldn’t be sure yet) why did Regulus want information on it? What was she going to do with it?
He turned onto the path outside, it was oddly hot for a London September.
Should he tell Sirius? No. No, that would be stupid. He could ask Moony what his thoughts were, if he had ever heard of it or something.
Luck was in his favor, it seems, because he noticed a distinct pale girl leaned up against the stone wall of Hogwarts nursing a cigarette in her delicate hand.
She was by herself, which was odd, Crouch and Rosier were usually always trailing beside her like dogs.
She looked like Sirius, enough that it was clear they were related. But they also had enough difference for it to be quite stark .
It made sense they were two very different types of people. Even so, James thought they harbored some foundational traits that were the same. Of course, he didn’t really know Regulus, and that was a gift she had:people only knew her as much as she allowed them to.
For better or for worse, she was very talented at this.
What he did know was this: they were both naturally centers of attention, whether they wanted to be or not. Sirius revealed in it, Regulus seemed to tolerate it. People were just drawn to them, there really wasn’t any other way to explain it, they’re magnetic. People lean in when they speak, want to stand next to them, want to be looked at by them,want their approval.
They were heavy forces, they filled a room, both of them. Sirius liked to entertain, yes. He was loud and energetic, he was like a shot.
Regulus though, Regulus was quiet, not from shyness, but from boredom, un-interest, lack of novelty in a situation. This made people want to work to be worthy of her attention, it made people bend over backwards just to get a reaction from her.
This irritated Sirius, James knew, it irritated him because it reminded him of their mother. When people stretched and leaned just for her to glance dryly at them. It probably scared him, though he wouldn’t say it. Things were not good between the two of them, really not good. Sirius hadn’t told him exactly what was said, but he said enough for James to be angry at Regulus specifically for the first time.
He’d never allowed himself to be upset with her before. Sirius is mad at her now because things are complicated, but the only true unredeemable people here are his parents. That's what James had always said. Because it was true, and also because he could never forget how affectionately Sirius talked about her their first year, how excited he was when he introduced her to them. James didn’t have any siblings to grow up with, to him, at the time, they were the type of siblings he read about in story books– who go on quests and adventures together.
But that night Sirius stumbled on his doorstep, and told him what happened, James was infuriated with her. More angry at her than anyone else. How had she chosen their horrible despicable parents over her own brother? He had told his mother this, standing in their kitchen, after Sirius had finally gotten to sleep.
“James,” his mother had said in a stern voice, which surprised him, she had been incredibly calm the whole tumultuous night. “You’re upset right now, I know, I am too. That boy has been hurt by the people who were supposed to care for him and love him and that’s a sickening pill to swallow and one I wish I could have protected you from.”
“I’m not a child, mum–”
“Yes you are. You and Sirius are both just children. You’re allowed to be angry James. But you cannot begin to understand how complicated it is for that little girl, I don’t think any of us could even imagine. And she’s alone there now. Alone in that house. With those people. She’s a child too James.”
That was a cold stinging bucket of water. He had never heard Regulus spoken about like that before, spoken about so humanly. And he suddenly felt very guilty. Guilty for being that angry with a girl he had fondness for, guilty for still thinking of her fondly after this evening. Guilty for everything.
She was standing outside leaning against the brick wall of the school and finishing her cigarette. Kids were around in the distance, laying in the grass enjoying the warmth or laughing and chasing each other in a care-free manner. It was the first weekend of term, everyone was euphoric. She was anxious. Anxious about the state of things and the bigger picture and things she knew were much less important. Anxious about her mascara melting off and the sunburn she might get if she stood here any longer.
Out of the corner of her eye she saw someone approaching her, but when she stood up straight she felt an engrossing head-rush that blurred her vision. She stumbled a bit.
“Woah Black, you alright?”
It was James Potter, she realized, looking up to see him approaching her with his arm slightly out as if to catch her, and his head cocked to the side with an amused look on his face.
This is what she always hated about him-ever since she was a child. How principally simple he was: loyal and charismatic and care-free. He was charming and well liked by everyone. He was a classic Gryffindor. But for some reason he was also incredibly hard to read. Why was he this way? Why did he treat people the way he did? What were his motives? How did he really feel about things? For some reason she couldn’t ever guess what he was thinking or how his brain operated. Ever since her first year he always treated her fondly. And it pissed her off. It pissed her off because there wasn’t any reason to. Sirius’s other friends were much more predictable–they treated her in alignment with however Sirius felt about her at the moment. Her first two years they acknowledged her with soft greetings and head nods–and as tensions grew they began to ignore her accordingly. It made sense. James, however, never looked at her any differently than he had the first time they met on the train–with Sirius’s hand on the top of her head as he excitedly introduced her to everyone. It infuriated her. It infuriated her that he never gave her the indication that she existed as anything other than some petulant child. She wondered if maybe he did it on purpose. Maybe he knew how much she felt belittled by it. How much it ruined her sense of control.Maybe these were malicious mind games he’d been crafting since she got here.
But then she realized maybe she was giving him too much credit. Despite that, she decided there was nothing on earth that horrified her more than a man she could not read.
Like right now, after all the shit this summer–things between her and Sirius were objectively the worst they have ever been. School had been in session for a week and they hadn’t even made eye contact. So why was he standing here looking at her as if she were a funny little child? Or his friend?
“Splendid” she mumbled, swiftly stepping past him. But as she walked the world was growing ever hazy and fog clouded her ears and maybe that cigarette wasn’t the best idea, because for a blissful moment she felt and heard and saw absolutely nothing but the blacks of her eyelids.
she stayed there for as long as she could, stayed in this state of black cloudy nothingness, because, it was kind of nice. It was kind of peaceful.
Then she felt a soft smacking on the side of her cheek. “Black,” a foggy voice called. “Black, hey,”
Her eyes fluttered open but refused to adjust and she sat up slowly. “Jesus Black,” it was Potter’s voice and he was crouched beside her with his arm hovering above her shoulder,”let me take you to the medical wing” she shoved her hand against his chest to push him back. “I’m fine Potter,”
But she felt like she was going to faint again, and she looked at where her knees met the pavement and waited for her vision to steady.
It wouldn’t.
She shut her eyes tight and gripped the fabric of Potter’s shirt.
“Uh, listen Black, charming as you are and fun as this is, I really think I ought to take you to the medical wing.”
She heard his words but they were covered in fog and clouded in her ears.
He wrapped his had gently around her wrist, not to pull her off, just to hold her.
Her vision swished and dipped in and out of black and color before things were coming into focus again, she saw her tights, the smooth pavement of the walkway, James Potter’s shoes.
She blinked a few times, then felt a squeeze on her wrist.
“Can you stand, Black?” His voice was cool and gentle, oddly relaxed, as if he did this all the time.
She wrenched her hand from off his chest.
Knee deep in the delirium still, she hardly knew what was happening. She didn’t want to see James Potter. Not now, not ever. But especially not now.
“I’m fine,” she breathed, she wasn’t sure what his question was, or if he had even asked one, but that seemed like a good thing to say.
“I know you’re fine,” his hand cautiously and delicately grabbed her upper arm, “and I know you Black siblings like to be difficult but it would make me feel a whole lot better if you let me take you to the medical wing, alright?”
She turned to look at him, he was close, his head was tilted to the side and he had that ever present look of amusement mixed with his worry. She shook her head. “I don’t need the medical wing, Potter. I’m fine.”
“We’ve certainly established that, I wouldn’t be so naive as to think I could win an argument against you, Black. Just be logical with me for a moment and-“ His voice was so low and so smooth even with her ears being clouded in a haze.
“No. No, I can’t go to the medical wing—I don’t need to go to the medical wing.”
“Regulus!” she snapped her head up at the sound of a distant voice, but her vision was still blurry and she couldn’t make out who was jogging towards her.
“Potter? what the fuck did you do to her?”
It was Barty, thank god, this dynamic with Potter was only getting messier by the second.
Potter must have been ignoring him because she heard Barty’s agitated voice again, “Potter, don’t fucking touch her I said what the hell did you do?”
She felt potter’s hand reach under her elbow to pull her up but she shoved him off again.
“Nothing Barty, I fainted,” Regulus started, breathlessly, she reached her hand up limply “it’s nothing, Potter was just checking off his Good Samaritan points for the day, help me up.”
Barty pulled her up by her arm and supported her by the waist. “Fainted? Are you sick?”
“Something like that,” she mumbled, her head lulled back a bit despite herself.
“Well Potter,” Barty started mockingly, “this was a pleasure, five points for Gryfindor I suppose.”
“Right,” He said with his hands in his pockets, “pleasure is all mine,” his eyes slid to Regulus again. “Slughorn was looking for you Black, by the way, told me to give you this.” He pulled out an envelope from his pocket and held it out to her.
"oh." she said and nudged Barty to grab it.
"thanks."
"anytime." he said back, giving her a once-over before turning to leave.
"Fainted?" Barty said teasingly in her ear as he walked her back to the Slytherin dorms.
"Shut the hell up." she mumbled back.
She should stop for a bit, she thought. The idea of taking small amounts of poison seemed nothing short of ingenious over the summer, when she could lay sick in bed all day if she needed to. Now she was at risk of fainting in front of people like James Potter-which was simply unacceptable.
"And how lucky are you that star boy James Potter was there to rescue you?"
"Jealous Barty? you can just say that, if you are."
"The most Jealous, truly I can't even look at you right now."
He let her go when they made it to the common room, "Good. I'll meet you at dinner." she said, and grabbed her envelope from his hand.
"Yeah you say that, don't sleep through it again." he chastised, and she waved him off dismissively before stumbling up to her room.
she shoved the envelope in her drawer and fell into her bed breathlessly. she was tired, but her body refused to let her sleep.
Things had changed so much for her recently. All because of her stupid fucking brother. Sirius and his appalling lack of patience, his sickening incompetence. She didn't have the luxury of just being the Black family's second born child anymore. She didn't have a lot of luxuries anymore.
Sirius was just too fucking sensitive. She knew things weren't easy for Sirius when they were children but it wasn't horrible.
Regulus actually looked back on this time, before Sirius left for Hogwarts, with a bit of fondness.
Regulus was free to generally do as she pleased. Her parents didn’t pay her much attention when she was little and so long as she didn’t cause any excessive amounts of trouble they were kindly indifferent towards her.
Their mother was cold and sometimes cruel, yes, but she still got them gifts on Christmas. And she was rarely inclined to be bothered with Regulus in any way back then, but she would still brush her hair before bed sometimes.
Their father was quiet and often unaffected by things. Even that turbulent summer night when Sirius left, he hadn’t gotten up from the dinner table, he hadn’t even looked up from his copy of the Daily Prophet. This quality was equally as unsettling as it was comforting–to Regulus at least. Because if, for example, their mother suddenly went mad one day, and dragged Regulus down the stairs by her hair before murdering her, she honestly couldn’t say whether or not her father would do a thing about it.
But one time when Regulus was very young, she had come downstairs in the middle of the night after waking up sweaty and disoriented from a nightmare. She wandered into the parlor wanting to play the piano, what she walked into, however, was a room full of tall men with drinks in their hands talking in serious voices.
They went quiet when they noticed a small Regulus barefoot in her nightgown. Her father stood at the far side of the room by the piano, he looked at her with the same serious face he always wore, and she felt an indescribable sense of dread. She didn’t want to get in trouble. “Did you have a bad dream?” he asked, in his deep monotone voice. She nodded, “I just wanted to play the piano.” she said softly.
He held his hand out to her, “Just play quietly,” he said, before patting her head and resuming his conversation.
So it wasn't all bad. Regulus could only imagine how differently that would have gone if it had been a young Barty and his wretched father.
And that was the problem with Sirius. He was so selfish he would never even consider a thing like that. He couldn't stand to be uncomfortable, he couldn't stay controlled.
But Regulus was. she was smarter than he was. She was controlled and steady.
she was, she was, she was.
she repeated like a prayer.