Frozen hearts

Two seasons later, the news of the King’s and Queen’s sudden deteriorating health spread like wildfire through the kingdom.

The royal physician wasn't sure what was happening to them, seeing as it looked like they were dying of hypothermia in the middle of spring, surrounded by warmth. No one in the kingdom knows about Regulus’ powers, hence why no one was throwing accusations at him about how he cursed his own family.

It started small, with cold hands. Then the paling of their skin, then the shivering, then the trouble walking. Nothing could’ve ever prepared Regulus for seeing his parents, once high and mighty, frail and shivering, barely holding on.

It felt as if the world had been pulled from his feet, as if everything he once knew about life was wrong.

That was what had him standing at his Father’s bed, unsure of what he was supposed to do. There were no rules for this kind of situation, no protocol, and Regulus was taught to only do things by protocol. And if nothing else, he actually liked doing things by their rules and protocols, it meant less room to mess it up.

“Father, are you okay?” he asked timidly.

“No, son, I am not,” Orion answered, annoyed, as if explaining colours to a ten-year-old. That was another thing that happened; neither of the three remembers what happened that night. Regulus guessed if they did, he would be rotting in the cells, instead of being more free than he ever was, since his Mother and Father weren’t there to watch his every step.

“I have ordered for the gates to be closed, and the serving staff number to be reduced. I have done all in my power to make sure not a word of this gets out, and so you don’t hurt anybody else,” said Orion sternly.

Regulus stayed silent for a while, then, just as Orion was getting impatient, whispered, “I know.”

“Son, you must listen to me; your powers, they are wrong and unnatural, and you must continue to hide them, when I die–”

“Father, don’t say that–” Regulus pleaded.

“Do not interrupt me, you ungrateful brat, I am trying to help you. Repeat this mantra as if it’s the air you breathe, the water you drink; conceal it, don’t feel it, don’t let it show. Okay?”

“Father, you will not go, you can’t–”

“Repeat it!” Orion shouted, and somehow, even in his weak state, it made Regulus flinch.

“Conceal it, don’t feel it, don’t let it show,” he repeated with tears gathering in his eyes. He couldn’t– it just wasn’t happening. Not here, not now. Because no matter how many nights he wished for his parent’s demise, he didn’t actually want it. No amount of scars, wounds and hungry nights could actually make him hate his parents. He loved them, he loved them because he had to. He didn’t like them, not one bit, and many times, he came dangerously close to hating them, but he couldn’t, not really. He loved them because they were his DNA, his blood, something was tying them to him, and one cannot truly hate that which makes him whole.

And now, now they were going to be gone, it suddenly dawned on him. And it was going to be his fault, all his.

“Again.” ordered Orion.

“Conceal, don’t feel, don’t let it show,” Regulus repeated yet again. The only thing stopping the tears from falling was the promise of a sharp sting of a slap if they did. Because his Father was there, on his bed; no, on his deathbed, and the last thing he would say to him is to repeat some stupid mantra. And the real truth is, he’s thankful for it, because he doesn't know what else he would say if it was anything else.

“Don’t ever forget it, if you forget everything else, let it be the only thing that stays in your mind.”

Okay, okay, Regulus can do that, he can. He can hide his powers, and never use them again.

“Father– I’ll call the physician, you must rest, it’s going to be okay– I’ll get help,” Regulus attempted to say when he heard his Father’s breathing get laboured. He watched as his father laid back in bed, his teeth stopping their chattering.

“Someone help!” Regulus screamed, banging with his fists on the walls, “Please, help!”

“Remember– remember the mantra, son, it’ll save you,” Orion managed to croak out.

Then people rushed into the room, one of them the royal physician, and Regulus' entire world went dark.

Orion Black dies two weeks later of hypothermia, and his wife, Walburga Black follows the same fate four days later.

No one knows how, since whole weeks before their death everyone in the castle went mad trying to warn them up, constantly watching over the fire to make sure it was burning and heating the entire room, warm blankets brought in from all sides of the castle, closing all windows to make sure the cold air from outside doesn’t get in the room. Nothing worked, and nobody knew why. The people were scared, thinking it was a curse laid upon their land, starting with their King and Queen. Eventually, it all died down, and the only thing left to do was to mourn the late King and Queen.

Which, obviously, nobody did.

Because Walburga and Orion were known all across the seven kingdoms as the barbaric rulers, stealing from their people and ruling with an iron fist. The only thing people cared about, was the young princes, who had just lost both of their parents.

Regulus came to be, finally becoming aware of his surroundings and himself again, three weeks later, only to find out their parents had been dead, for a week already.

Effie was the one to break the news.

“Dear?” they said questioningly, because Regulus looked like he had just shaken himself awake. It was lunch, and they – Effie, Monty, Sirius and Regulus and another dark-skinned boy he didn’t recognise – all seemed to be eating together in the Great Hall – the dining room.

“What happened?” Regulus asked.

“Reggie?” asked Sirius, cocking his head to the side questioningly.

“What happened?” he repeated his question. He looked around the room, trying to picture the last thing he remembered. Something about– his father?

“Regulus, love, what do you mean?” Euphemia asked him gently, clearly sensing something was wrong.

“I– I don't remember, something about my father?” he tried to recall. His father was lying down, probably in his bed, and Regulus was talking to him. Something about his powers?

Effie sucked in a sharp breath, and looked over to Monty, who looked right back at her.

“James, darling, why don’t you take Sirius up to your room to play?” she suggested to the boy sitting next to her – James, Regulus learned – as she put her cutlery down and got up from her seat.

“But Regulus–” Sirius started to protest, looking between Effie and Regulus.

“We’ll handle it, okay?” Monty said reassuringly.

“Okay,” Sirius still sounded unsure, but Monty just smiled at him, and he relented.

With James and Sirius gone – Monty left to go tell the servants to clean up lunch – Regulus was even more confused. Why did they have to leave? Why doesn’t he remember anything? What happened? Regulus isn't sure, but dread already started to settle in his stomach. He feels lost, and scared, and so, so confused.

“Walk with me, Regulus?” Effie asked him, still oh so gently.

“O–okay,” he stuttered out. His parents have always hated it, the stuttering, and said it was ‘unbecoming’ of a Prince. They have tried to make him stop it in so many different ways, and it only half-worked. He can now speak normally without stuttering most of the time, the exception being when his emotions ran high, such as now.

But Effie doesn’t reprimand him for it, or even say anything, just smiles at him, and although it looks weak, it still reassures him a bit.

And then they walk. They walk through the corridors, down the stairs, through even more corridors, and they end up in the royal gardens.

“Ma’am– Effie. What’s happening? What is this about?” he asked her.

“Regulus, what’s the last thing you remember?” she answered his question with a question.

Regulus tried to remember; it came easier to him this time, not so distant and foggy. He was in his Father’s room, and Father was lying on the bed, sick because… He focused even more on the memory, trying to remember why his father was sick. Sick… because he hit him and Mother with his powers. And it was…bad. Very bad, it was almost like–

“No,” he whispered, looking at Effie. She just shakes her head with a sad smile on her face. It all comes back to him now; the memories. Of him calling for help, the physician and servants running in, of losing focus on the world around him. He started crying.

He also remembers of the times he was blacked out for; getting ready for the funeral, the funeral itself, the aftermath, Sirius–

Sirius.

He remembers, he remembers Sirius getting dressed in all black next to him, shedding a few tears at the funeral, but otherwise remaining stoic. He remembers Sirius coming to his room, once their room, begging for him to let him in, and Regulus refusing. He remembers crying while leaning against his door, knowing Sirius was there, on the other side, crying too.

“No, no– no, this isn’t happening–” but oh it is, because he remembers it, he does, and he doesn’t want to.

“No– I don’t want to, don’t want to– don’t make me remember, please– I don’t want to,” he managed to get out through his sobbing.

Effie just looked at him, with so much sorrow in her eyes. Regulus started backing away from her, suddenly feeling cornered.

Euphemia looks like she might start crying too, “Regulus, darling, can I hug you?”

She shouldn’t, she really really shouldn’t, because Regulus could hurt her. He could hurt Effie, who has been nothing but kind to him this entire time, for he can feel the power coursing through his veins, and it wants out, out. But Regulus is desperate for even a scrap of comfort, anything to ease the pain, the all-encompassing fire burning him from the inside. Regulus is ice, he wasn’t made for the fire. So he let her, and the moment he nodded, Effie’s arms wrapped around him, holding him close. He cried into her shoulder for a long, long time.

By the time he was done, his eyes were red and it was evening. He wasn’t okay, the crying didn’t help.

His parents were dead.

Three Years Later

Regulus just finished dinner, the one he eats alone in the Great Hall after the others finish.

It’s been three years, and ever since it happened, Euphemia and Fleamont have officially unofficially taken custody of him and Sirius. Officially, because they are the royal caretakers and it is their job to take care of the heirs should anything happen to the King and Queen, unofficially, because they became so much more than just mere caretakers. Sirius had welcomed them as his family instantly, – always the one who blatantly disagreed with their parents’ ways – becoming best friends with their only son, James Potter. For Regulus, it was a slow process, seeing as he was always the one reluctant to let people in. It took a good part of the three years for Regulus to just become comfortable existing in the same room with Effie and Monty, but Potters, they have a way of wriggling into your heart when you least expect it.

Which is exactly what happens with James Potter.

“Hey, wait up!” someone yelled after him while he was walking back to his room.

He sped up his steps, hurrying to get away from the person. He has been on the edge the whole dinner, because he had to remove his gloves to eat so as to not get them dirty. The last thing he needs right now is a person.

Suddenly, there was a hand on his shoulder stopping him, and then someone was standing before him. It’s James, Effie and Monty’s son, he thought.

“Oh, sorry!” the boy quickly removes his hand, “I know you don’t like it when people touch you, but I didn’t know how else to stop you so I had to– anyways sorry, yeah.”

James is out of breath, Regulus noticed. Probably because he ran after him for some reason.

“What do you want?” Regulus asked, unimpressed and detached.

James stuck out his hand, and with a bright smile on his face said, “I’m James! I wanted to see if you wanted to hang out.”

Regulus stared dumbfounded at James. What was he on about? They never hang out, in fact, in the three years, they have barely spoken a word to each other before.

“I know who you are, James, just as you know who I am,” he said, “Don’t you have my brother to hang out with?”

“He’s doing some future king stuff that I don’t get with Mum and Dad,” James shrugged.

“Ah, so you came to bother me,” that stung a little, the fact that the only reason James is even speaking to him is because Sirius is busy. He should’ve expected it, after all, Sirius and James are inseparable.

James pouted, “But I wanna do something!” he whined.

Regulus steps back, suddenly aware of the last time someone begged him to go play with them. And it didn’t end well. His throat suddenly feels too tight, because James and Sirius, they are so much alike that it physically pains him.

“Regulus? You okay?” James tilted his head to the side, question in his eyes.

“Y–yeah I’m okay, don’t worry,” said Regulus, sounding not at all convincing.

“Soooo…hang out?” James asked – although he still sounded a bit worried –, and Regulus was pretty sure he could hear him twisting his foot on the floor in his voice.

“No,” Regulus retorted flatly. He didn’t have time for this, and he really needed to get going. Whatever James had in mind, he was sure he could do it by himself.

“Pleaseee?”

“No,” repeated Regulus as he started to walk away. James stayed back for a couple of seconds, then followed after him.

“We can do whatever you want!”

“Whatever I want? Regulus raised his eyebrows. James quickly nodded, and Regulus had the sudden image of his head falling off his shoulder.

“And what if I want to practise the royal commands?”

James looked pained for a moment, but then nodded with a resigned sigh, “Sure, I’m that bored.”

“That bored?” Regulus let a small smile grace his lips.

“That bored,” James grinned, seemingly so proud of himself for making Regulus smile.

(They didn’t go over the royal commands, but it was a close call. In the end, they settled for playing games. Regulus, of course, won almost every round.)

And that was the start of them.

“Reggie, wait up!” Sirius shouted after him while he walked down the halls after dinner.

He sped up his step, impatient to get to his room and away from Sirius. He promised Mother and Father he was going to stay away from him, and he intends to keep his promise; not because of them, no, but because he knows himself he could wound Sirius.

Even after all these years, he still cannot bring himself to look Sirius in the eyes, afraid it would make Sirius remember what happened that night years ago, and that he would hate him forever. He cannot take that, he would rather never see his brother again than have him hate him. He would rather avoid him, than see him look in his direction with resentful eyes.

“Reggie!” yelled Sirius, who had now started to run towards him.

Regulus sped up even more, so close to reaching the doors of his room. When he got there, he quickly entered the room, closed the doors and locked them behind him. He exhaled, thankful to whatever stronger force made him make it in time to avoid Sirius. He missed him, oh how he missed him, but he was right there, on the other side of the door, and he won’t be if Regulus lost control of his powers again. He has to keep doing this, otherwise, bad things would happen. It was a necessary evil, just like being close to the fire; it hurt him, but it was for the better, for the better of others, and himself.

“Please, Reg, I miss you,” he hears Sirius say through the door. He has to hold back a wave of tears at the desperation in his voice. He stayed quiet, barely even breathing.

“Do you wanna build a snowman? Please?” Sirius said, laying his hand on the door, “Or play a board game, or ride bikes together, or literally anything at this point.”

Sirius let out a weak and wet chuckle at the last part, while Regulus had to choke back a sob at the first.

Sirius sighed, sitting down on the floor and leaning his back against the doors, “Okay, dumbass, you don’t have to open the door, but you’ll have to listen to me ramble about everything that happened this past few weeks.”

Sirius then started to talk about the weeks before, seemingly not caring that there was a door between them. Regulus let a weak smile make its way onto his face.

This, this was enough. Because with Sirius, who was so much, even scraps were enough. They had to be.

Four years later

“Pads!”

“Prongs!”

The two boys ran up to each other and embraced, while Regulus only rolled his eyes at their antics. They’re acting like they haven’t seen each other in years, while it hasn’t even been half a day.

“Oh my darling, as I’ve missed you!” Sirius wailed, plastering himself to James and putting all of his weight on him.

“My love, my other half, my everything, how I missed you,” James tried – and failed – to keep supporting both him and Sirius, but in the end, they both ended up falling to the ground.

“You’re both being dramatic, really, I expected this from Sirius, but James, I thought better of you,” Regulus said flatly, stepping around them and making a beeline to his room. Before he could, James stopped him with a hand to his wrist.

Regulus felt a brief moment of panic as James’ hand grazed over his glove, but quickly shut it away; this was James.

“Are we still on for later?” he asked, this time serious.

Ah yes, their almost-weekly hangouts. In the beginning, four years ago, Sirius had duties he needed to attend to every week, and in that time, James would come to Regulus’ room, and they would ‘hang out’. They would mostly sit in silence while playing games like chess or checkers, or Regulus would do embroidery while he and James made small conversations.

It was almost nice, Regulus could admit. The loneliness really gets to him, sometimes, and since bothering Sirius is out of the question, James truly helps him not to go insane. Regulus thinks James knows it too.

While James and Sirius have a very loud friendship, the kind that everyone knows about, the kind that takes up space, James and he have the quiet kind, the kind where they hide behind closed doors, and relish in the silence. In fact, Regulus is unsure if anyone even knows of their friendship; he suspects that even Sirius doesn’t truly know anything other than the fact that he tolerates James.

In all the years that they have known each other, Regulus had taken upon calling James ‘little sunshine’ to himself, simply because of James’ personality. He’s all around, always with a smile on his face and shining, ready to light up someone’s day. He melted Regulus’ walls off, and even though there’s still a bunch of them to get through, Regulus is sure James is determined to get through them all.

Regulus will not let him.

Because being close to him is dangerous, Sirius, the living proof of that, still having a white streak in his hair and being colder than most. It’s one thing to play chess and talk sometimes, it’s a whole other thing actually letting someone in. Regulus is dangerous. And no matter how warm James was, Regulus was colder. And that’s how it always will be.

But, as dangerous as he was, Regulus was also incredibly selfish. And that, that was his fatal flaw. The fact that after everything that happened with Sirius, he cannot bring himself to live life alone. So he keeps James at arm’s reach, always there, but not quite with him. He supposed, that as long as he kept going like this, it was going to be fine.

He already messed up by letting Effie and Monty get close to him, because in his younger years, all he wanted was parental comfort, and Euphemia and Fleamont Potter were just that. Now, he has to carefully pull himself away from them, no matter how much it pains him to do so, because he could hurt them, he could hurt them, hurthurthurthurthurt–

That’s all he does, these days, hurt people around him. His powers are slowly getting out of control even more, where not even gloves could stop them. He remembers, a few days ago, where he almost hurt Effie and Monty, and when fear like that was so prominent it drove him away from them.

He was in his room with Fleamont and Euphemia, holding his hands to his chest. Behind him, the door and walls were covered in ice, making a small circle around where he was standing.

“I’m scared, they’re getting stronger!” he said urgently, pressing his hands together to try and stop the ice from forming.

“Don’t panic, dear, the fear only makes it worse,” Fleamont said placatingly, raising his arms in a supposedly comforting manner.

Effie tried to get closer to Regulus, to calm him down. Regulus only walked further back into the wall, the ice spreading, “Don’t touch me!”

Effie and Monty looked at him heartbrokenly, so Regulus continued with pleading eyes, “Please, I don’t want to hurt you.”

They only nodded in return, retreating.

“… and then he took my paper, my paper, Regulus, can you Imagine that?!” Sirius said indignantly, throwing his head back against the door. Regulus hid a small smile in his shoulder, on the other side.

Even after all these years, Sirius never gave up on him, always there, every day, to talk to him through the door. Ever since that day when he discovered this was a possibility, there hasn’t been a day where he didn’t come and talked to him, even though Regulus never talked back.

He just sat there and told him of all the things that happened around the castle, about random things.

Regulus has never been as thankful for his older brother than when he had to leave him.

“Regulus?” Sirius asked, and it sounded muffled through the door. Regulus doesn’t answer, but that’s okay, he doesn’t have to, Sirius knows he’s there.

“I miss you, you know.” he sighed, “The Regulus that used to play with me, the Regulus that rode his bike with me, the Regulus that used his powers for us to have fun.”

Regulus choked on a sob, and then wiped his tears away on the sleeve of his shirt. He couldn’t take this, knowing Sirius was right there, but not here, never here, and he missed him terribly, was torture.

“Go away, Sirius,” he said at last, hoping he didn’t, hoping he got up, opened this stupid door and hugged him.

Sirius didn’t.

Instead, Regulus heard him sigh, then get up and walk away.

He didn’t come back the next day.

Two years later

Sirius didn’t show up at his door and talked ever again.

He did try to call him out so they could see each other, but it hadn’t worked. Regulus couldn’t.

He pushed him away, he pushed Sirius away, his brother, his only brother, and he pushed him away. Because that’s what he does, he's the poison that’s running through his veins, the cold that he forms with his hands. It’s suffocating, being who he is, it’s all around him, the moment he looks inside himself all he sees is coldcoldcold and badbadbad, and everything is wrong and he doesn’t know why he’s wrong and the way he is, he doesn’t know, and he’s bad, but he doesn’t want to be.

He missed him, he missed him so much it hurt, like a constant ache in his chest. He, now more than ever, needed his big brother. But, now more than ever, he had to stay away from people.

His powers were getting truly out of control; not even the gloves were helping. He would wake up and his bed would be covered in ice, he could barely drink water without it getting frozen. Fear and panic were an all-constant all-encompassing phenomenon in his life now, always there to remind him of how careful he had to be.

Except, oh except, when James is there; his own little personal sunshine, there to keep the ice away. Regulus doesn’t know how or why, but he’s never scared around James. James just seems so invincible, like nothing can touch him, like Regulus can’t hurt him with his ice. He’s there, and Regulus isn’t scared, because you can’t hurt the Sun, it’s there whether you like it or not.

So he kept seeing James, playing chess with him, talking to him, and being around him. He kept being selfish, unable to just let go, because James had wormed its way into his heart. There to soothe the ache Sirius left behind. Because James and Sirius are two halves of a whole, and James is the closest he will get to being with Sirius.

Not that that means he’s only with James because of Sirius, no, because James is a whole lot on his own. He makes silly faces when they play chess in hopes of deconcentrating Regulus – which it doesn’t work –, he’s always bloody smiling, Regulus is sometimes sure it’s only to annoy him. He’s there for people, always having his hands full with helping someone. I mean really, James? Regulus is the Prince, of course he knows about everything that’s going on in the castle.

James is too much, but that’s okay, because Regulus is not enough.

“Yes! I win!” James shouted, throwing his arms in the air in celebration.

“What? No, you didn’t,” said Regulus quickly, looking at the board and trying to see what James was talking about.

“Yes I did, look; my knight could take your king,” he said with a gleeful smile, pointing at the chess board.

“Yes, but you would have to get through my rook first, and in that time I would move the king, James.”

James only grinned in response, “But look at my bishop.”

Regulus did, and it took him half a second to realise James was right, he had won. If he moved his king, James’ bishop would be able to get him. He couldn’t not move his king since then James’ knight could take his king. He had him in–

“Checkmate,” James smirked.

Regulus groaned, knowing James was never letting this go, “How did you even win? You’re terrible at chess!”

“Yes, but you’re predictable,” said James with an easy smile.

“Excuse me, no I’m not!” he said outrageously.

“Yes, you are. You may not play the same moves every time, but you have the same strategy. You stick by one thing, thinking it’ll save you, when really, you should switch it up sometimes. All I've had to do was learn your routine and then I could counteract your moves before you could even make them,” James explained.

Regulus stared at him with his mouth open, because what? The thing is, James was right, he had been using the same technique every time they played, he just didn’t think James would catch up on it. He supposed he did play a stupid game, and it was just asking for the time James would realise it. James is by no means stupid, he is, in fact, quite bright. It’s just that Regulus has been playing that way for so long, that he couldn’t change it now. He wants to smile at James for figuring him out, because he loves nothing more than a worthy opponent, a challenge, and tease him about how long it took him to do it.

“Congratulations, maybe this way you’ll be able to catch up on wins before we both roll over and die,” he said instead, deadpaning.

“You’re just salty because I’ve finally bested you at something,” he said the next part with a smirk, “I know you, Regulus Black.”

And then Regulus proceeded to blush at that. Damn his treacherous flesh. Where was the ice when you needed it?

James, thankfully, didn’t say anything, just continued to gloat about finally beating Regulus.

He thinks about that too, sometimes. How James walks the line of embarrassing him and just being there to keep his head on the ground. How James never seems to have bad intentions, no matter what it’s about. He constantly makes sure Regulus is comfortable, as if he’s a snail that’s going to retreat to its shell at first sight of danger.

He thinks about a lot of things, sometimes.

James is, unfortunately, only the tip of the iceberg.