Sacred

Narcissa knelt in his blood. The color seeped into the dress, creeping upwards over her knees and thighs. He watched, unable to turn his head as his blood – his blood – stained her garments. Would Druella curse her for it? He groaned. He wanted to tell her to move. Don’t dirty yourself on my behalf.

“Brackium emendo,” She whispered. “Brackium emendo. Brackium emendo. Come on Reg, please. Brackium emendo.” Her hand moved, waving in a familiar motion. Not stilted, still ever fluid and graceful. “Brackium emendo. Brackium emendo.”

Ah.

Regulus hissed with pain as he lifted his arm as best he could, aiming the wand – which was held precariously in his left hand – and aimed it at the twisted fingers on his right hand.

“Br- brackium emendo.” The words were barely whispered, rasped with a broken voice as he mimicked her movements.

It worked.

The fingers snapped back into place with a sickening crack that made Narcissa flinch and Regulus groan with pain. The wand slipped out of his broken hand.

“Excellent! Great job Reg!” Narcissa’s blue eyes were filled with tears as she picked the wand up and pressed it into his repaired right hand. “Once more.” It was easier this time to twist the wand, repairing the fingers on his left hand. Narcissa praised him quietly, her blue eyes brimming with tears as she coached him through every wound.

By the time he’d repaired the burns, bruises and lacerations left by his mother, the blood had hardened on the floor. Narcissa’s dress was stiff, as were the remnants of his own clothes.

“I’ve got to clean the mess,” He said. “Mother will have my head if I leave it.”

“You should leave it,” Narcissa replied bitterly. “Let her scourge the blood of her son from the floors herself.” Regulus could barely keep the corners of his mouth from twitching upwards at Narcissa’s venomous words. He hadn’t heard such vitriol from her before. But he supposed it was just another way they were similar.

Bellatrix and Sirius were not the only Blacks that inherited the infamous family temper. It’s just that Regulus – and he now knew Narcissa – were better at concealing it.

He stood up, groaning at the ache in his bones that would only improve with time and patience and waved his wand at the mess on the floor. His blood disappeared, leaving the wooden floors pristine, all trace of his torture gone. Narcissa glared at the floor as though it had personally offended her.

“Like it never happened.” She said flatly. Regulus reached towards her, letting his fingers intertwine with hers. He exhaled slowly, letting his own fire burn down into embers, squashing it beneath the cool veneer he wore, the only thing that kept him safer than Sirius.

“Like it never happened.”

Regulus was disillusioned.

It wouldn’t hold against any of the professors, all of whom knew what to look for in a disillusioned student, but it provided a sense of security for him, even if it was false.  

He didn’t care if he got caught, not really. He wondered if perhaps that was the reason he’d never been caught. After all, it wasn’t out of the ordinary for him to be wandering the halls after dark. The dormitories were stifling, the common room filled with too many memories. Regulus needed the vacant barrenness of the corridors after hours.

Maybe the professors knew it too. Maybe they allowed him to wander because they felt bad for him. He knew McGonagall did. He saw it every time she spoke to him, the way her eyes softened ever so slightly. It was similar – but not the same – as the way she interacted with Sirius. With Sirius, there was a softening that was accompanied by approval. McGonagall liked him. Everyone liked him. With Regulus it was just.. pity. He was pitiable.

He hated it more than anything.

He wandered through the halls aimlessly, past portraits that tsk’d at his being up so late, past suits of armour that seemed to teem with life although they remained motionless as always. The Slytherin ghost drifted by, vacant eyes skirting over his disillusioned form and he wondered if the ghost truly didn’t see him, or if he just didn’t care.

Probably didn’t care.

Nobody fucking cared.

He turned a corner, letting his fingers trail against the stone wall as he walked.

“Reg?”

He froze.

“What the fuck are you doing up?”

He turned slowly. Sirius’s disembodied head was staring at him. Regulus’s eyes bugged open.

“What the fuck is wrong with your body?” The words erupted out of him and he clapped a hand over his mouth. Sirius scowled and shrugged his shoulders and a cloak sloughed off his body.

“Cloak.” He grunted. “What are you doing out here?”

“Walking.”

“I can see that.” Sirius snapped. “Why are you walking? It’s past curfew, you’ll get in trouble.” Regulus couldn’t help the way his lip curled.

“Why do you care?” He sneered. “You don’t give a damn what happens to me.” Sirius glared at his brother.

“You’re right, Reg. I don’t give a damn. Have a good night.” He pulled the cloak back around him, disappearing from sight. Regulus felt him push by him.

“That’s right, Sirius,” He heard himself say. “Run away just like you always fucking do.” He turned away from his invisible brother and began back down the hallway when he lurched forward, landing on his knees with a sickening crunch.

“What the fuck?” He turned his head just in time to see Sirius, his face contorted with rage lunge at him, grabbing him by the shirt.

“I did not-“ He roared. “Run away!” Pain lanced through Regulus’s face as Sirius’s fist connected with his nose. He felt the familiar hot rush of blood as it poured down his face. He barely saw Sirius’s venomous face before his vision darkened as his brother punched him again.

And again.

And again.

Sirius lifted his fist once more and Regulus laughed, a horrid, bloody, choking sound as he grinned at his brother.

“Just like Mother, eh Siri?” Sirius froze, his fist poised above Regulus’s bloodied face. Then he rolled off of his brother and laid back against the cold stone, a choked laugh erupting from him.

“Nah,” He said. “She never would’ve gotten her hands dirty.” Regulus laughed again, before coughing, choking on his own blood. He sat up and spat on the ground.

“Too true, brother.” Regulus pulled his knees up to his chest and wiped the blood from his chin. “I think you broke my nose.”

“I know I broke your nose.” Regulus fumbled in his pajamas for his wand and aimed it at his own nose.

“Is this..?”

“No, down more,”

“Right –“

“Down more, Regulus fuck don’t you know where your nose is?”

“I’m trying to get it right on the fucking –“

“Oh for.. just let me!” Sirius wrenched Regulus’s wand out of his hand and aimed it at his nose. He didn’t say anything – he didn’t need to. They were both adept at silently casting healing spells. There was a flash of blinding pain and then his nose was no longer broken. Regulus snatched his wand back out of his brother’s hand.

“Thanks,” He said. Sirius did not respond.

They sat in silence like that, Regulus still covered in his own blood, his knees pulled close to his chest and Sirius, laying on the cold stone. Regulus didn’t know what to say. He never knew what to say.

“How’s life at McGonagall’s?” Sirius said finally. Regulus snorted.

“Not as bad as I’d thought.”

“She dock any house points over the holidays?”

“If she did Slytherin would be in the negatives, given how she and Bella get along.” Sirius laughed at that, far too loud in the cavernous hallway.

“They probably get along as well as Mother and a rabid hippogriff I imagine.” Regulus grinned.

“Well you know Bella. Famously difficult to get along with.” Sirius sighed.

“I do know Bella. I’m surprised McGonagall’s still living, to be honest. Figured Bella would’ve offed her by now.” Regulus frowned.

“Bella may be batshit crazy, Siri, but she’s not a murderer.” Sirius snorted and tucked his arms behind his head.

“We’ll have to agree to disagree on that one, brother.” Regulus glanced at his brother. He was staring straight up into the darkness, eyes unblinking. “How are the rest of the girls?” He asked after a moment. Regulus’s stomach twisted. He could see Narcissa, staring at him from the common room, her fingers stretched out towards him.

“They’re fine,” He said after a moment. “You know Annie. It’s hard to keep her down,” He watched as Sirius’s lips turned up at the corner in a small smile.

“Annoyingly happy, that one,” He agreed. “And Cissa? She alright?” Regulus didn’t respond. He didn’t know how to respond. Truthfully, he didn’t know how Narcissa was. He hadn’t spoken to her since they’d moved into McGonagall’s, had been determined to keep his distance.

“Reg?”

“She’s fine, Siri.” He said abruptly. Sirius sighed, rubbing his eyes.

“You can’t just ignore her Reg,” He said wearily. Anger flashed through him.

“Don’t talk about things you don’t understand, Sirius.” He said sharply.

“What don’t I understand, Reg? You think I don’t know what you’re doing? I know exactly what you’re doing. You think you’re protecting her but all you’re doing is hurting her.” Regulus laughed mirthlessly.

“I’m hurting her? I’m the only thing standing between her and being hurt!” Sirius stared at his brother.

“What are you talking about?” Regulus looked away.

Regulus gathered his wizard’s chess set close to his chest. Narcissa would play with him, she always played. They would go out in the back garden, perhaps set a blanket out and Kreacher could bring them some cherry pie. It was both of their favorite.

He poked his head into the drawing room. Bella was sitting on the sofa arguing with Sirius over something stupid. Andromeda was on the floor reading a book, her legs splayed out in an undignified manner that would surely get her reprimanded if caught. He considered warning her, as he heard the telltale stomp of Walburga Black. But he didn’t. Walburga wouldn’t do more than yell, maybe a stinging hex to the legs. Nothing like what she’d do to Sirius if he didn’t control his yelling.

He left the drawing room. He wasn’t responsible for the actions of his cousins, and he especially wasn’t responsible for his brother. He turned down the corridor, peeking into various rooms. He didn’t dare yell, not that Narcissa would answer. He knew better than to draw the ire of his mother.

He wandered the hall, approaching his father’s office. He doubted Narcissa was here. She avoided Orion the same way everyone else avoided Walburga. He didn’t question it, his father was an imposing figure, although not nearly as terrifying as the Black matriarch.

He considered turning around. He knew Narcissa wouldn’t be here. She was probably out in the garden – she loved the sunshine and it was a beautiful day.

But then he heard it.

A small, sharp gasp.

He turned towards the office. The door was slightly ajar, barely open. Regulus’s heart pounded. He should turn around, he should go outside, find Narcissa. He should go.

Another gasp.

He moved closer. One step, then another, then another. He was silent, nothing more than a shadow as he crept closer to the door until he was peering through the crack.

Narcissa was staring at him, her face pushed painfully into the oak of the wooden desk.

Her blue eyes were wide and unblinking, filled with tears.

And his father..

Regulus pressed a fist against his mouth. He couldn’t scream. He couldn’t make a fucking sound.

His stomach twisted as his father’s hips slammed against her again, as his hand fisted her long blonde hair. The desk scraped painfully against the floor as she gasped sharply again and a tear spilled onto the wood.

Regulus stumbled back.

His back hit the wall with a thump. Not a loud thump, but loud enough.

He watched in horror as the door to his father’s office swung open. Orion Black stood in front of him, his shirt unbuttoned and untucked from his trousers. His face was suspiciously blank. Regulus stared wide eyed past him at his cousin, still laid out against the desk. Her skirts were hiked around her hips.

Regulus vomited.

“Go,” Orion snapped at Narcissa. She stood up woodenly, adjusting her skirts. Her eyes were unblinking as she walked past Orion, past Regulus, but he noticed the trembling in her fingers as she passed him. Orion pointed his wand at the vomit on the floor and vanished it.

Regulus waited.

He waited for the explosion of pain, for the cruciatus curse to burn through every fibre of body. Waited for anything.

No pain came.

Instead, Orion buttoned his shirt, tucked it into his pants. Refastened his belt. All while Regulus waited.

“You will marry her.” He said after a moment, and turned back into the office, slamming the door behind him.

Regulus vomited again.

“Trust me, Sirius. It’s for the best that Narcissa stays away from me, stays away from our whole fucking family.” Sirius fell silent, the only sound in the dark hall their breathing.

“You know it’s not going to last, right?” Sirius said. “This whole.. trial thing. It’s not going to last.” Regulus shook his head, dread settling in the pit of his stomach.

“I know.”

“You’ll be home by Christmas.”

“I know.”

“I’m not going home.” Regulus felt his stomach twist. He knew, of course. Sirius had had one foot out the door for a long time now. Now that he’d actually gotten out.. well, Regulus figured he’d rather die than return to the home of Orion and Walburga.

He couldn’t blame him.

He drew his knees closer to his chest, folding in on himself as though he could force himself to disappear entirely. He’d do it if he could. He’d disappear from this entire fucking world.

“You could come with me, you know.” Sirius’s voice was soft. “Effie and Monty, they’d take you in, no question. They’ve said it at least a dozen times since all this shit went down.”

“I’m sure James Potter would be thrilled at that,” Regulus said bitterly. Sirius didn’t laugh.

“He wants to help, Reg. They all do. Just let them help you.” Regulus shook his head.

“Mother and Father would never allow it,” He said quietly. “I’m the heir now, Sirius. I am their legacy.” Sirius sat up now and grabbed his brother.

“Don’t go back, Reg, please. Just.. let us help you. Effie and Monty, they can help! I promise you, just, please give it a chance!” He hated the look on Sirius’s face. Hated the desperation in his voice. Hated the way he wanted to desperately to believe that there was something any of them could do.

“Just stop Sirius!” He wrenched his arm out of his brother’s grasp. “What would they do for me? What could the Potters say to our parents to make them let go of the only heir they have left?”

“Regulus –“

“Enough, Sirius!” Regulus stood up, his chest heaving. “There’s nothing anyone can do and you know it. That’s the worst part about all of this, Siri, you know there’s nothing anyone can do. I am the Black heir. I will marry who my parents say I will marry, I will take whatever job they say I must take. I will do everything that you were too cowardly to do!” He turned on his heel and stormed away from his brother.

“Regulus –“

“Just leave me the fuck alone, Sirius.” He spat. “It’s what you do best.”  

Narcissa was asleep in her bed, covered in a thick, knit blanket. Regulus stared at her.

Sirius didn’t understand. He would never understand.

Sirius wasn’t a coward, he’d never been a coward. He’d taken every punishment his parents ever doled out, every curse, every laceration, every manner of pain they could concoct and still stood defiant. Sirius was maybe one of the bravest people Regulus knew.

But he was selfish.

He couldn’t understand why Regulus needed to stay because he only ever considered himself.

Regulus brushed a lock of blonde hair out of Narcissa’s face. She looked so peaceful when she slept, with no trace of the trauma and abuse the Black family had heaped upon her. Regulus sighed and turned away from her, heading out of the girl's dormitory and to his own.

When the time came, Regulus would return home. He would be the dutiful son, he would accept his role as the Black heir because that is what she needed him to do.

He would be the perfect son and the perfect heir.

And he would keep her safe.