heartbeat
Ba-dumm.
Regulus could hear his heart beating. It was a funny, funny thing, really. Sometimes he almost forgot he was alive until he felt the blood rushing through his body in a steady rhythm. His vision darkened and the room swayed but the sound of his heartbeat stayed.
Regulus sat there, not knowing how much time passed, not thinking about what was going on downstairs. It was a little like being surrounded by sirop. Or honey. Time slowed. His limbs grew heavy and numb.
Ba-dumm.
He stared at the wall in front of him, the deep green colour reminding him of his mother’s robes. Ba-dumm. Regulus felt his eyes close. Ba-dumm. He thought of Sirius, his oh so brave brother.
Ba-dumm. Ba-dumm. Ba-dumm.
Suddenly, a bone-shattering scream tore him out of his trance. Sirius. He was on his feet in an instant and held his breath when he heard footsteps coming up the stairs.
The door flew open. Sirius, his shirt blood-soaked and his eyes bearing a crazed expression, stood in his doorframe.
Regulus stumbled to him, examining the wound on his torso and gripping his shirt tightly to not loose balance. He felt like he was going to faint.
“Hey there, Reggie”, Sirius mumbled and cupped Regulus’ head with his hands. “It’s nothing too bad. I’ll be alright. We’ll be alright. Okay? Okay.” He started to wipe tears off of Regulus’ cheeks while whispering soft promises to his brother.
Regulus hadn’t even noticed that he was crying. He didn’t feel the tears streaming down his face. He hadn’t felt anything in two long weeks. He was just a shell at this point, hollow and light, like he could float away any moment.
He was barely a person anymore. Except for the heart still beating in his chest.
Ba-dumm.
Nothing but a whisper was passed between the brothers and Regulus was alone again.
Ba-dumm.
Regulus dragged his suitcase out from under his bed. He threw everything he could find in it, a few clothes, a handful of books. His sketchbooks and a variety of brushes and paints. His rings. The letters from his friends. The stupid stuffed animal he hid under his mattress. The little notebook where he wrote down poems.
Things that mattered.
Ba-dumm.
He dragged his suitcase down the stairs, right behind Sirius. It wasn’t heavy but it was meant for longer journeys, so it was bulky and knocked against the wall every few steps. They heard shouts from his father’s study as they sneaked past it. Regulus held his breath.
Ba-dumm.
Regulus couldn’t believe it. He was about to leap into the unknown, become a disgrace and bring great shame on his family. He was about to leave the only home he’s ever known.
Well, home was a big word for this house. It was a place of misery, a house dripping with pain. Every nook and cranny of this house oozed and stank of hopelessness and for a very long time it kept the brothers caged in, crushing them with expectations and strangling them with coldness.
But now, they were leaping off an edge, hoping the fall wouldn’t be too great for them to handle. Hoping that maybe they would fly.
Ba-dumm.
They sneaked into the living room and Regulus noticed Sirius’ hand in his. He doesn’t recall taking his brother’s hand but he wouldn’t let it go for the world, clinging to the feeling of safety the gesture gave him.
Sirius pulled a handful of floo powder out of his pocket and threw it into the fire. The flames grew bigger and bigger, burning a shimmering green now and Sirius pushed Regulus inside. He blinked a few times, his eyes having to adjust to the sudden light and the thick smoke. “Keep your elbows tucked in”, Sirius whispered after stating the address of a house that Regulus never thought he would get to see.
The house that became Sirius home, even when he was still living here.
And with a small whoosh, the living room of 12 Grimmauld Place vanished and Regulus snapped his eyes shut.
James’ pov
If you had asked James this morning what the “top ten most unlikely things that could happen that day” were, in no universe would he have guessed what had just happened in his living room.
Regulus Black, stumbling out of his fireplace, his small frame shuttering and his porcelain skin paler than the wall.
James was sitting on the couch, reading “Quidditch through the Ages” when Sirius’ brother collapsed right before his feet after dramatically falling out of hissing green flames.
James rushed to him, pulling him up and shouting for his mother. Euphemia came storming in right in time to see Sirius falling out of their fireplace too and collapsing on their fluffy red rug.
They placed both brothers on their couch, Euphemia leaning over them whispering healing spells. And James, the chatty, sunny James, was frozen.
Because their hair wasn’t shiny and silky and curling in all the right ways. It was clearly unkept, greasy curls sticking out or lying flat against their heads. And the Black brothers took great pride in their hair. Sirius’ mane, shoulder-length and absolutely perfect, was his everything. His hair routine took longer than one of James’ runs. He brushed it and washed it and put mousse and shit in it and now it looked like … this.
James almost fainted.
His best friend didn’t look like himself at all. Something bad had happened.
“Breathe, mi vida” His mother’s soothing voice pulled him out of his spiral. “They’ll be fine. This cut on Sirius’ torso is worrying me the most, but your father will be home tomorrow and have a proper look at it. They’ll be okay, I promise.”
“At least we have a big enough couch for both of them”, James whispered and then he was in his mother’s arms, violently sobbing against her shoulder while she patted his back and whispered reassurances in his ear.
His mother retreated to her bedroom when James had stopped crying and she was sure that nothing else could be done. But James stayed in one of the armchairs and tried to read.
“Let them sleep, James. They’re exhausted. We will talk tomorrow. Now try to sleep, mi vida”, his mother had whispered before she had walked up the stairs.
Sleep? James couldn’t. He wasn’t sure if he could ever sleep again.
His best friend. His brother. What had they done to him? James had to restrain himself multiple times from standing up and just going to murder Walburga and Orion, the bastards. James was the personification of sunshine but he was nothing if not protective.
Hurt his friends and you will burn. The sun can be unforgiving.
James sat down again, reopening his book and moving his murderous plans to tomorrow. Two seconds later he gave up reading and went back to examining the brothers. He swept them over with his eyes, over and over again, taking in their dishevelled appearance and their peaceful faces.
Funny, how you could have gone to hell and still look like an angel when you sleep.
Around four in the morning, he finally passed out.