Saskia
Towards the middle of the summer between Regulus’s fourth and fifth year, Walburga and Orion asked Sirius to take the mark.
Regulus remembers every little detail, of course. It’s not difficult. It’d be harder to forget.
They were in the living room, their parents and Regulus seated on the couch. Sirius was in the middle of the carpet, arms crossed over his chest. His eyes were already blazing with fury.
“No.” He’d hissed, and Regulus took a small breath.
“Sirius. It’s time.” Orion ran a hand over his beard, letting it come to rest in his lap. “You knew this was going to happen.”
“And you should've known that I will never join him. Never.”
Regulus wanted to get on his knees, wanted to beg him to just do it, because they both knew what would happen if he didn’t. Instead he watched from the couch, face neutral.
Walburga rose steadily. “Sirius-”
“Fuck. You.” Sirius backed up rapidly, hitting the wall behind him.
Their mother advanced, grabbing his wrist in her fist. Regulus could see her nails digging into his skin. “Brat, how dare you refuse us. This is an honor.”
The waters rose in Regulus’s lungs, choking out his voice. Honor.
“I hate him. I hate you. I hate this family.” Sirius wrenched himself away from her. Regulus could see the fear hiding behind the fire.
“Crucio.” It was the first time in a long time that their mother had used it so quickly. Usually there was more debate. Usually there was more build up.
Regulus watched in horror as Sirius fell to the ground, screams tearing from his throat as he writhed.
Walburga lifted the curse and Sirius gasped, choking on his side. His entire body was trembling, and Regulus could do nothing but watch. The sight tore something open inside himself.
“Regulus. Regulus, please, you have to understand-”
Before Sirius could finish there was a boot in his side and Orion stepped up. “Shut up. Take The Mark, boy. Fulfill your destiny. Regulus won’t help you. He knows where his loyalties lie.”
Sirius made a ugly sound at the kick, rolling over. “I have no- ugh- no fucking destiny. I will never be your heir.”
Regulus should stop them, he knew. Before it got too bad. Before there was nothing to stop anymore. But how could he, when he knew the only thing he’d accomplish would be landing them both in more trouble?
“Cruico.”
Don’t, Regulus wanted to scream, voice pounding against the inside of his head. Don’t.
He wasn’t sure who he was talking to.
He closed his hand into a fist and pressed harder, harder, till blood ran up over his nails and dripped down his wrist. They’ll stop eventually before they go too far, Regulus told himself. They always do.
Sirius crawled away from her, shuddering. Orion kicked him again, this time in the mouth. Sirius fell backwards, landing on his hard on the carpet. “Bitch,” he spit with as much venom as he could fit into the word. A fair amount of blood came out with it.
The blood from Regulus’s hand ran down his arm, under his sleeve. He didn’t let up on his palm, clinging to the feeling of flesh splitting beneath his nails. Maybe if he cut deep enough, he’d pass out from blood loss. Maybe he could slip into the darkness and leave all this behind him.
“Take The Mark.”
“I- I won’t-” Sirius’s body was giving up, Regulus could tell. Shoulders shaking and knees weak. He barely managed to pull himself off the rug.
“Still refuse?” A sick grin cracked Walburga's face. “Well. Crucio’s are boring. I guess we’ll have to get creative. Start experimenting.”
She stalked over and grabbed Sirius roughly, thumb pressing into his forehead. He glared up at her, blood dripping from his mouth. Suddenly his eyes went wide and Regulus knew she was in his head. She was a practiced Ligilimens- she didn’t even need a spell anymore.
While they were preoccupied Orion took a few steps back, standing behind Regulus, who’d risen off the couch. Orion lowered his lips to Regulus’s ear. “He needs to be punished, do you understand?”
Regulus said nothing, staring at Sirius’s wide, unseeing eyes. He should move. He should reach for his wand. He should do something, anything. This was the worst it had gotten in a long, long time.
Orion placed a hand on Regulus’s shoulder, squeezing. The smell of cigars and leather was overwhelming, bringing tears to his eyes. “Do you understand, Regulus?”
“Don’t-” He cut himself off as Sirius fell forward, Walburga taking a step back.
She snarled, grabbing his hair and yanking his face up. “The Potter boy? He’s who you think of at a time like this? Potter?”
Sirius spat at her feet. “James.”
“That mudblood-sympathizing bastard. His family isn’t even from England, dirty-” She was cut off as Sirius cried out in anger, lurching forward.
“Don’t fucking talk about him. Don’t you dare.” He growled and all Regulus could think was: Would he defend me like that?
An awful, evil thought, but one that had been pestering him since Sirius’s first year.
As if on cue, Sirius’s eyes met his. “Reggie,” he tried. “Don’t listen to them. Don’t do this. For once in your fucking life, stand up to them. Help me. Please.”
Walburga tried a spell Regulus had never seen before.
As Sirius fell back to the carpet, Orion squeezed Regulus’s shoulder tighter. “You can only make it worse for him,” He hissed.
The red from Regulus’s hand dripped to the rug in slow, methodical, drops. It didn’t matter, he thought distantly. Sirius’s blood was already all over it. The carpet was ruined anyway.
“Reggie, fucking say something-” Sirius gasped, his words slurred from pain. He was going to pass out soon, Regulus could tell.
“Yes, Regulus, say something,” his father whispered, and Regulus could hear his smirk. There was a wand against his back, he realized.
He remembered a promise he made to Dorcas, so long ago.
Whatever it takes.
And this. This was what it took.
“Sirius, please,” He choked out finally, and the world began to swim. “Don’t do this. Take The Mark. They’ll stop if you do.”
Sirius’s face fell, the spark draining from his eyes. “Reg.”
Regulus squeezed his eyes shut, taking frantic breaths. His control was slipping. He needed to reign his emotions back in, tuck them somewhere no one could find them.
Orion smacked him on the back of the head. “Stop blubbering. So pathetic.”
Sirius’s face crumbled. “Why won’t you help me?” He whispered, fingers digging into the carpet beneath him. “Why can’t you just be my brother?”
And that hurt something inside he didn’t know existed.
Sirius couldn’t see the wand against his back, Regulus realized. He had no idea. “They’ll just curse you more,” he choked out. “I can’t- I-”
Orion leaned in once again, voice so soft Regulus almost didn’t hear him. “Coupe-le.”
Cut him.
Regulus froze, every cell in his body resisting. The water was all around him now and he was drowning, choking on pain and self-loathing.
Cut him.
“No,” He gasped, and the wand pressed harder against his back.
“Reg?” Sirius asked from the floor, bloody and half awake. “Reg, you wouldn’t- right?”
So he’d heard too.
“Do it, boy.” The wand pressed harder into his back, promising further agony. Sirius was staring at him, oblivious to the threat.
Regulus’s shoulder throbbed. He was just so tired of pain.
His hand twitched.
Sirius caught it, face shutting down as his fear turned to burning fury, betrayal evident. Orion pressed harder. “Now.”
Regulus shook his head, a tear slipping out the corner of his eye. His stomach was eating itself alive, fear gnawing on his ribs. He would give in to his parents on many things, but not this. He wouldn't hurt his brother.
Walburga met Orion’s eyes above their heads, a cruel smirk spreading across her face. “If you refuse The Mark, then we’ll just have to show you you’re totally alone. No one in this house will ever support you, ever be there for you, ever love you. Regulus. Show your brother how much you care.” She nodded to Orion, and Regulus hated her.
Orion leaned, if possible, closer. Regulus’s stomach sank. “Imperio.” He breathed, light and airy, as if it was the easiest thing in the world. “Cut him.” He finished, loud enough for Sirius to hear.
Orion's Imperio had always been different from their mother’s. Walburga’s felt like a blanket, a single sheet that held you down and trapped your limbs in some awful smothering weight. It quieted everything, making it easier to focus. Easier to throw off.
Orion’s was… worse. It settled over your physical body, sure, but then it made its way to your mind. Paralyzing your thoughts and consuming your senses, it left you immobile instead of numb.
Orion made sure you could feel everything.
It was the first time his father had ever used the curse on him. The spell washed over him, seeping through every pore and extending to every limb. Nothing was his anymore, not his thoughts or movements or words. He was entirely, totally, powerless, trapped inside himself.
No, he tried to scream as his wand raised in front of him. No, no, no. Don’t make me do this. Don’t make me hurt him.
He can’t take that.
I can’t take that.
His mouth refused to open.
“Reggie?” Sirius’s eyes went wide, scrambling back across the carpet. “Reggie, please-”
And he didn’t know. He hadn’t seen. He assumed Regulus was doing this on his own. The thought made him sick.
The water was overflowing by then and he was shocked the room wasn’t flooding around them. He could feel it, pouring out of his eyes and nose and ears and mouth. Swirling and bloody and deadly, and why didn’t Sirius see it? Why didn’t he see that Regulus couldn’t breathe? That he’d been drowning this whole time?
“Diffindo.”
He’d never really had a choice.
Sirius cried out in pain, falling backwards as his hand came up to clutch his side. Blood began to gush, pouring down his shirt and staining his trousers. Far too much.
As quietly as he’d set it, Orion released the curse on Regulus. Immediately a swirl of dizziness and nausea overcame him, and as soon as his limbs cooperated he bent over, losing his dinner over the rug. Gagging and gagging till there was only bile left.
Sirius’s head had fallen back against the carpet, lashes fluttering. His hand slowly slid off his body and to the side, resting palm up.
Regulus coughed up more stomach acid. He wanted to keep going, wanted to keep throwing up till his organs started to come out too. He thought he could sense it, thought he could almost feel his heart detaching from his ribs and rising up his throat.
But then Orion had a fist in his hair, ripping his head up. Tears and vomit dripped off Regulus’s chin. “Disgusting,” Orion hissed, releasing him. “Come on Walburga, let’s let the boys think a bit. Maybe they’ll reconsider.” At the door he paused, slowly turning to stare at Regulus. “Don’t heal him. Do I make myself clear? You are not to touch him.”
Then he was gone and all Regulus could do was stand there, staring at Sirius’s unconscious body on the carpet. His lips were slightly parted, breaths coming increasingly more unevenly. Regulus’s head was swirling, thoughts mixing and dividing until they landed on one thing.
He was dying.
And that did it. He moved forward instantly, dropping to his knees at his brother’s side. “No, no, Sirius, please-”
He was still bleeding.
Regulus pulled him up, grabbing him under his arms and pulling him towards the stairs. He was still dizzy from the Imperio but he needed to move, needed to get somewhere Walburga couldn’t find him.
“Kreature,” he gasped, and immediately the elf was by his side. “I need you to bring me bandages. To Sirius’s room. And water. And dittany.”
The elf looked between Sirius’s body and Regulus, eyes going wide. “Master Regu-”
“Now, Kreature.”
The elf vanished away and Regulus tugged Sirius forward until they reached the stairs. He tried to get him up the first step but tripped on his hand, falling backwards till he was practically tangled with his brother.
Tears of frustration rolled down his cheeks as he got his hands under Sirius’s arms and dragged, again and again, moving himself and Sirius up the stairs one at a time. He was gasping at the end, or sobbing, lying on the cold wood of the floor. Gritting his teeth he pushed himself up, grabbing Sirius’s arm and pulling, yanking them to his room.
The door swung open and he finally, finally pushed Sirius’s limp body onto his bed. The Gyrfindor lion above it seemed to be mocking him, eyes glinting cruelly. “You did this,” he could almost hear it whisper. “How very brave.”
Kreature appeared with the supplies, setting them down on the bedside table. “Kreature would help but he’s been forbidden from-”
“Leave,” Regulus hissed between his teeth, ripping Sirius’s shirt up. He’d apologize to Kreacher later. The cut was deep and still oozing blood, too wide for Regulus’s liking. His hands were shaking but he couldn’t afford the time it’d take to make them stop.
He grabbed his wand. Underage magic was still illegal, but Regulus was long past that. The Ministry never really cared what the Black family got up to. It wouldn’t matter much to him if they did, anyway. “Episky, Episky, Episky.” He ran his wand down the length of the cut, muttering the spell as he went. The skin started to bind itself together, ugly and warped. The speed and carelessness in which Regulus was casting the charm made it all the more difficult to be precise.
He grabbed the dittany, pressing the leaves against the wound. It would help with the pain, he hoped, but not much else.
He tried every healing spell he knew, practically begging his magic to cooperate. He needed more. “Sirius,” he whispered, though he was still very much unconscious. “Sirius, I’m sorry, I have to get something. You’ll be ok. I’m going to fix this.” He should’ve tried harder. He should never have let it get this bad.
He stood up quickly, crossing the hall to his room. He tried to keep his steps light, but he was a little too desperate to care. He threw open his bedside table drawer, rummaging through quickly. He found what he was looking for near the bottom. A small potion, dark purple in color. It was a healing brew, a new mix, one that Regulus had yet to test. He had no idea what it would do, or if it would work, but again; he was desperate.
Running back across the hall he knelt by Sirius’s bed, cradling his head and lifting it slightly. Opening his mouth he quickly unstoppered the bottle and carefully tipped its contents down his brother’s throat.
With shaking hands Regulus took up the bandages, wrapping and wrapping until he couldn’t see what he’d done anymore.
He needed a healer. He needed someone with more capabilities than he had. He needed someone who knew what they were doing.
“Wha-” Sirius made a groggy sound, face pale as his lashes fluttered.
“Stay down, don’t hurt yourself-”
But the second Sirius blinked awake he was forcing himself to stand, stumbling away from the bed. The bandages began to turn red as the cut beneath them started to tear itself open. “S-stay the fuck away from me.” He hissed, nearly tripping on himself.
Regulus’s heart cracked. “No, Sirius, I’m sorry-”
“You- fuck. You didn’t do anything to stop them. You- you bloody cut me.” Sirius pressed a hand against his torso, holding tight.
Regulus’s stomach sank. Did he really think Regulus had a choice? “No, I was-”
“I can’t- ah.” Sirius bent double, gripping his side. His face was broken open, betrayed and angry. No, furious. Desperate.
Regulus felt much the same, actually.
“I can’t be here,” Sirius gasped. “I have to leave. Stay back. Stay away from me.”
The words hit Regulus like a bludger. “What? No, just wait. Let me help.” His emotions were written all across his face, spilled out like paint on a canvas. He hated it, but he’d long ago promised he wouldn’t shut down in front of Sirius.
“You cut me. Fuck you. Fuck you and this whole family.” Sirius took another stumbling step back. That’s when Regulus noticed the open window behind him.
He’s actually going to go, he thought as the stark reality of the situation crashed down on him.
He’s actually going to leave me.
“I didn’t have a choice, you have to believe me. Please, just stay. Please. You’re hurt. I saved you.” Regulus moved forward, taking another gasping breath.
“The only thing I needed saving from was you.” Sirius grabbed the edge of the window to steady himself, face white with pain. “I have to leave.”
“You don’t understand. It was a mistake-”
“No.” Sirius shook his head violently. “No, the mistake was all mine. I should never have trusted you. I can’t believe I thought you weren't one of them.” He swallowed, and Regulus could see the tears in his eyes. “I saw you go for your wand when he told you the first time. And I felt you cut me the second.”
“What- just fucking listen to me!” Regulus hissed.
Sirius glanced around. “Shut up. They’ll hear you. And I’m done listening, Reg. Nothing good ever comes of it.”
“Sirius, let me explain-“
“No. I despise you.” Sirius gripped his side tighter. He didn't mean it, but Regulus was beyond caring.
"Fuck you."
Sirius’s eyes widened slightly, but he stayed silent.
It was so easy for Sirius to believe that Regulus would hurt him, he thought. So fucking easy. Something inside him was starting to deflate, adrenaline leeching out of him. “Where would you go?”
A cruel smirk lifted the corners of Sirius’s mouth, though his eyes betrayed him. “My brother’s.”
Regulus felt himself shut down at that, last shreds of emotion circling and slipping down the drain. Numb. “Okay.”
“Okay?”
Regulus found the door in his head; blew off some dust. Cracked it open. Sirius taught me this , he thought distantly. There was some sort of sick irony to that. Every emotion, every feeling, every thought, he shoved inside. He didn’t care.
Didn’t care that it was his wand that had nearly killed his brother.
Didn’t care if Sirius lived or died.
Didn’t care if he left or stayed.
It was easier that way.
Sirius sat on the windowsill, staring at him with fiery eyes. “I- I thought you were better than this.”
Regulus tipped his chin up, saying nothing. Feeling nothing. There were still tears on his cheeks, but that hardly mattered now. Keeping his face ice cold, he nodded. “Poor judgment, I guess.” He said, and a wall slid the rest of the way down between them.
There was one last look, long and searching, from both parties. Fire on ice. Trying to find some rudimentary bind to fall back on, some saving grace. They both came up empty.
With that, his big brother swung himself over and disappeared out the window.
He left two bloody handprints on the sill.
---
“Moony?”
Remus gulps, still holding the empty vile in his hand. James, Sirius, and Peter are all crowded around, waiting with bated breath.
“How’s it taste?” James asks, still mildly concerned Snape poisoned the thing.
“Fucking awful, wow.” Remus makes a face and tosses the bottle across the room.
“Do you… feel any different?” Sirius reaches out and pokes Remus’s cheek. Remus affectionately swats his hand away, still grimacing.
“I feel like I want to vomit. Other than that, no. I don’t think I’m supposed to. Am I?”
Peter pulls out his book again, flipping to the page on the potion’s after-effects. “No. Not yet. You’re good.”
“If you do feel something, say something. I don’t trust Snape.” Sirius picks up the bag, still mostly full with small vials. He opens it suspiciously, peering inside.
“I don’t either. But I trust Slughorn, I think. And he says they aren’t poisoned, so…” Remus pulls a face and sticks out his tongue. “It certainly has an aftertaste.”
James grins. “This is gonna be fun to watch each month.”
“Gah.”
“James, stop praying on Remus’s misfortune.” Sirius pats Remus on the head. Remus sends him a pleading glance that James is fairly certain Sirius doesn’t catch.
“Oh, I don’t know. I'm with Prongs.” Peter comments from behind his book.
They’ve just got off the train, still unpacking in the dorm. Though, as Peter points out, if feels slightly pointless since they're leaving in a week anyway.
“Ok. Well. You have two days to drop dead.” Peter glances up to check the moon-phase calendar they hung up 3rd year.
“If that happens, I expect one of you to kill Snape as revenge.”
“I’ll do it,” All three Marauders volunteer at the same time. Remus glances between them and then bursts into laughter.
“Sometimes you lot make me feel bad for Snivileus.”
“Impossible.” James smiles. “Should we go get some lunch? You wanna wash that down with something?”
Remus nods gratefully and they all rise.
“How was your time home anyway?” Peter asks, nodding to James and Sirius.
The two of them exchange a tense look. Sirius doesn’t know about James’s little meltdown and he doesn’t need to. The will was enough. “Um… it was fine. Just a little… I don’t know.”
James nods in agreement, bumping his shoulder gently. “It was fine.”
The great hall is half-empty, most kids still in their dorms. James glances at the Slytherin table, unable to help himself. Regulus isn’t there. Pandora is though, despite it being the wrong house, and she's bent over, speaking in hushed tones to Rosier across the table. There’s something on her face James doesn’t like. None of his business, he tries to remind himself. It doesn’t matter.
Barty and Dorcas enter then, crossing the Great Hall determinedly. They slide in next to Pandora and join the conversation, Dorcas’s brows furrowed and Barty’s lips pinched.
Pandora looks up and catches James staring, giving him a worried look that only furthers his confusion.
He tears his eyes away, focusing back on his plate in front of him. Anxiety eats away at his appetite. On this, on Regulus, he decides to trust his gut. And his gut is telling him something is wrong. “I have to go.” He murmurs, meeting Remus’s eyes across the table. He watches as he glances over to the Slytherins and back, nodding.
“Ok.”
“What? Where?” Sirius frowns at the both of them.
“I- er- forgot something in my dorm.”
“Oh. Sure mate. Go.”
James nods and slips off with no further discussion, crossing the hall quickly. He meets Pandora’s eyes one last time, and, as if she knows what he’s thinking, she gives him a determined nod before turning back to her friends.
He finds the map in his trunk, right where he knew it would be. Regulus's name, as he suspected, isn’t on it. Which could mean two things: either he’s in the Room or he’s in the Chamber, but it’s still early, so…
He grabs his wand and tucks the map in his back pocket, setting off for the Come and Go room.
When he finally opens the door, he finds a new addition. A bed has replaced the couch, large and comfortable set against the same wall.
He smirks.
Then he notices Regulus sitting on it, cross-legged right in the middle. His eyes are slightly unfocused, staring at the bed sheet. Lost in thought. What concerns James the most, though, is the red stain on the shoulder of his white shirt. Round and dripping, it’s obviously blood.
He shuts the door quickly and crosses to him immediately, stomach sinking. “Reg? Regulus, what happened?”
Reg’s eyes snap up to meet his, not quite clear but getting there. Focused. “What?”
James gives him an incredulous look, climbing up the bed to kneel across from him. “Your shoulder. Fuck, Reg.”
“Oh? Oh, yeah. It’s fine. Hi.”
“Hi. I need to look at it, ok?”
“Ok.” Regulus’s voice comes out slightly despondent, just barely there. James’s heart clenches.
He carefully undoes the buttons of Regulus’s shirt, slipping it off his skinny shoulders. It sticks a bit to the wound waiting beneath, dried blood fastening it to the skin.
It’s dark and ugly, obviously poorly healed. It doesn’t look deep but it does look painful, the skin around it stained an infectious red.
“Regulus.” James breathes, staring at the wound. “What happened? Did she do this?”
“No.”
“Then who-”
Regulus reaches up to grip his shoulder, palm pressing against the cut. He hisses in pain, eyes closing briefly. He’s pressing too hard, James realizes. Squeezing too tight. “The Dark Lord.” Regulus responds finally, releasing his shoulder after a second.
James goes cold. “What?”
“It’s fine now.”
“It’s not. You’re bleeding all over your shirt. Can I- can I help? You don’t have to do anything, love.”
Regulus nods distantly and James immediately slips off the bed, going to the Potions table where he knows he’ll find water and a rag. He could try and use magic but he’s not sure he knows enough yet, and anyway, he wants to be gentle with him.
“This might sting, but it’s going to help, alright?”
Again, Regulus nods, and James uses the wet rag to carefully clean out the wound. Gentle swipes that he tries to keep as light as possible. Water drips and runs down Regulus’s chest, making the skinnier boy shiver. “Your friends are worried, I think.”
Regulus hums vaguely. “Dora might be.”
“You did come in covered in blood. Why didn’t you glamour it? Not that you should, just… it’s odd, for you.”
Reg winces as James presses particularly hard over a bloody spot. “No point.”
That doesn’t make sense.
James looks him over for any other injuries and…
Freezes.
His hand holding the rag stills, and Regulus catches it, brows furrowing. Before he can comment, though, James pulls himself together. Entire body stiff, he forces himself to finish cleaning the wound, bringing out his wand and trying to do a better job of mending the skin than whoever got there before him.
And once that’s done, once he’s sure Regulus is safe, he lets himself take a gasping breath, dropping the wand. “Regulus. Reg.” His voice is shaky, he knows.
“Hm?”
“Regulus.” James clenches his hands in the sheets under them. “What’s on your arm?”
“What?”
“Your arm. Your shoulder. Those scars. What are they?” The scars in question are small and straight, little white lines that cover his entire upper arm. How had he never noticed them before? How had he never felt them under his fingers? He’d held him so many times. Touched him so many times.
“Shit.” Regulus curses quietly, not meeting James’s eyes.
“You need to tell me, Reg. You need to tell me.”
Regulus says nothing and James swallows. “Are you hurting yourself? If you are, we can figure it out, we can talk-” James’s heart is beating too fast in his chest.
“No. It’s not like that.” Regulus shakes his head, eyes still a little unfocused. There’s something very, very, wrong, James realizes. Something deeper than the cuts on his shoulder. “It’s my mother.”
When James finds his voice, it’s little more than a whisper. “Are those tally marks, Regulus?”
Distantly, the other boy nods.
James feels like he might throw up.
“Why?” He hisses, voice scratchy.
“I’m a coward,” Regulus whispers at the sheets.
“Regulus. Please. Just talk to me, ok?” He’s close to begging now, because he needs to know.
“Everytime I’d let Sirius take a punishment for me, I earned a mark.” Regulus nods dismissively to his shoulder. “Evidently, I never really learned.”
Ice floods James’s veins.
He gets up, hands tightened into fists. He wants to punch something. Wants to cut something. Wants to make Walburga hurt.
He paces the room instead, arms wrapped tightly around his chest. When he looks back, Regulus still has his eyes trained on the sheets below him.
He takes a few shaky breaths, trying to calm down. His anger is not what Regulus needs right now. “How long has she been doing this?”
“I don’t know.” Regulus studies his hands, turning them over and back again. “A while.”
James hisses a curse through his teeth, running a desperate hand through his hair. He’s burning, he’s fairly certain, actually burning from the inside out.
It’s been a long time since he’s felt anger this all-consuming before.
“You didn’t tell me.”
“I’m sorry.”
“Don’t apologize.”
Regulus looks away, jaw tight. “You’re mad.”
James sighs, bites his fist. Squeezes his eyes shut. Drops his hand. “Not at you.”
“Why not?”
“What?”
“Why aren’t you mad?” Regulus still won't look at him, eyes burning. “I didn’t tell you.”
James shakes his head. “No- I- you didn’t have to, love. You could’ve told me whenever you were ready.”
“Sirius knows.” He’s still bitter, and James can’t figure out why.
“Well, I assumed…” But he trails off, because why hadn’t Sirius ever mentioned this? Why had he never brought it up? Shame, maybe, but James always thought Sirius told him everything.
“No. He didn’t always know. I told him maybe a month ago?”
Well.
Wait.
James remembers Sirius curled in on himself on the astronomy tower, gasping through his tears. That would destroy him. “Oh. Oh.”
He sinks to the bed in front of Regulus, catching his hands in his own. “I’m not mad.”
“You should be.”
James can’t look at his shoulder. Can’t look and can’t tear his eyes away when he finally does. “It’s not your fault,” he whispers.
“Sirius is your best friend. I let him get hurt for me- I-” Regulus shudders, and it takes a moment for James to realize he’s shivering.
Quickly he strips off his shirt, tugging it over Reg’s head before he can protest. “Does she still… do this?” tentatively he reaches out, cupping Regulus’s now sleeved shoulder.
Reg leans into the contact, letting out a breath. “No. Not since- well. One time, after, actually, but that was only when she saw my boggart.”
James frowns. “Which is…?” (He knows, of course, but this is something he thinks Regulus needs to tell him himself.)
Regulus looks away. “Sirius’s…” He trails off, blinking. He suddenly goes deathly pale, all the color draining from his face. “She knew,” he whispers hoarsely. “She saw. Of course.” he pitches forward, burying his head in his hands. “My worst fucking fear and she used it to….”
“Reg? Hey, hey, what did she do? What are you talking about?” James grabs his shoulders, pulling him up. There are no tears in Regulus’s eyes, just a complete and utter hopelessness. It scares him.
Regulus shakes his head and leans forward, pressing his forehead into James’s shoulder. “I don’t…”
“Ok.” James ducks down, pressing a soft kiss to the top of his head. “Ok. C’mere.” Gently he wraps his arms around Regulus’s torso, leaning forward until they’re both lying flat on the bed. He pulls him in, a hand running through his hair. The pressure of his body is warm and James wants nothing more than to envelope him, to wrap him in his arms and put all his broken pieces back together. To seal his body to James’s, to permanently fuse every emotion, every thought, to his own.
Because he’ll take it. Everything Regulus does, everything he regrets, everything he hurts, James will take it. He’ll make it his own, bear it alongside him. He wants to feel it all. He wants to forgive it all. Wants them to be one and the same, their souls and bodies and thoughts meshed together, inescapably tangled, because that way Regulus would always be with him.
He holds him tighter, kisses him harder. Relishes in the way Regulus relaxes against him, leaning into his body.
Yes love, he thinks. Rest a while. Leave your heart to me. I can be gentle.
He’s always felt his emotions too strongly. And right now, they’re threatening to drown him.
Regulus reaches up, head still pressed into James’s chest, and runs a hand over the nape of his neck. Slips it down his back before sliding it back up and tangling it in his hair. “I don’t understand.” He whispers, and James pulls him tighter still.
“Hm?”
“You’re supposed to hate me.”
James shakes his head, squeezing his eyes shut. He doesn’t want to see, doesn’t want to hear, only wants to feel Regulus’s body against his own. “I just want to be with you.”
Regulus shivers in his arms. “That’s what I don’t understand.” His voice is barely audible, but James hears him. He’ll always hear him, he thinks, no matter how quietly he speaks.
“It was never a choice,” He whispers back, slotting his legs in between Regulus’s, drawing their bodies closer. Maybe if he can tangle their limbs together he can manage their souls as well. “And if it was, I’d choose you. Of course I would.”
Regulus goes quiet, and James focuses on the rise and fall of his chest against his own. Everything is gentle, soft.
Regulus breaks the silence first, voice barely anything against the still air. “I… I don’t think I’m good, James.”
“You are.”
“I’m not, though.” Regulus murmurs. “Sometimes- sometimes I feel like the devil’s greatest ally. Sometimes I think he’s trying to find me, to drag me back down where I belong.”
James lets his hand wander up, cupping Regulus’s cheek. His skin is smooth under his palm. “If the devil is after you, he’ll want me just as much.”
“Why’s that?”
“I love you.”
Regulus’s eyes flutter closed. “I suppose there’s no greater sin.”
“For you I would burn, Regulus Black.”
He already is, really. He has been for a while.
Regulus tilts his head up, staring at him with an indiscernible look in his eyes. “I know,” he whispers after a moment. “That’s the problem.”
After that it’s quiet for a long, long time.
“James?”
“Yeah?”
“I love you too.”
James’s soul cracks and rearranges, making space for those four words. He doesn’t say anything else.
Neither of them do.
---
“Can I use your lab, Sir? I just need to brew something quickly.”
Slughorn looks up from his desk, peering at him over his reading glasses. “Oh! Regulus. Of course, my boy. Take all the time you need.”
Regulus nods in lieu of a response and quietly shuts his office door, turning back to the potions classroom. He crosses to the lab quickly, setting up his supplies in precise, practiced motions.
There’s a quiet buzzing in the back of his head, a monotonous hum that blocked out everything unnecessary. Like feelings. Or emotions, the pesky things. It’s been there since the train, leaving him distant and detached.
He could probably do this with the lab in the Come and Go room, but he doesn’t want to. That’s a place for healing, for cures, for James. He refuses to corrupt it.
The sleeping draught doesn’t take long. He’s brewed it so many times this past year, though never this strong. It smells like lavender and valerian. It smells like James.
The buzzing grows louder.
He pours the potion into a jar and tucks it in his bag, closing his eyes briefly. He should probably eat something. He skipped breakfast and lunch. He still has to stop by the kitchens anyway. He could always wait till dinner was served, of course. But there’s no time, and he’d hate to keep his mother waiting.
Regulus cleans up and leaves with no further debate, letting the door slam shut on his way out.
---
Hello? Are you awake? Regulus takes another step into the chamber, fingers tight on the strap of his bag.
There’s a hissing sound then the Basilisk slithers out of her tunnel, eyes firmly shut. She’s done that for about a month now, coming out with her eyes already closed so Regulus can cast the swelling curse without waiting on top of the statue. Setting his bag down, he pulls his wand.
When he’s done and she can no longer see, Regulus can’t bring himself to move. Can’t bring himself to talk.
What happened? The Basilisk asks. I smell blood. And fear. And… something else.
Regulus’s stomach twists. Nothing. I don’t want to talk about it.
Ok. How long do you have before you have to go?
Regulus smiles softly, though she can’t see it. As long as I can, he whispers. I’ll stay with you as long as I can tonight.
Good. Come sit. Talk to me.
Regulus walks over with stilted steps, settling down next to her on the ground. He leans against her body gently, running a hand over her smooth scales. How was your weekend?
You know. The same as it always is. I slept, I ate, I waited. The Basilisk tips her head. What about you? Did you talk to Tom? Did you get out of his plans?
Regulus smiles weakly, still stroking her side. He never wants to stop. Yeah. Yeah, I got out. You were right. I just had to talk to him.
If the Basilisk catches the lie, she doesn’t comment.
Regulus swallows, continuing. I- I did some research into Horcruxes.
Oh?
Yeah. It’s very powerful magic, it seems. He studies his hands. Very dark.
That’s what he said. The Basilisk let out a sound reminiscent of a sigh. I told him not to do it. I said it would destroy him.
And?
It seems like I was right, from what you tell me. The Basilisk shivers under Regulus’s hand. After I said that, he cut and left me. So I guess it destroyed me instead.
Regulus brings his free hand up to press against his mouth, taking deep breaths through his nose. I’m sorry.
We both know your apologies will do nothing. I’ve had time, Little Prince. The pain has long since numbed.
Regulus looks down at the cool marble. How ?
How what?
How do you… numb it? The pain?
The Basilisk hums and Regulus can feel it throughout her whole body. Are you asking for yourself?
Regulus pauses, and his silence seems to be answer enough. Like I said.Time, Little Prince. Something you have much of.
Regulus looks up to the ceiling, hand tracing circles on her scales. In the past, Regulus has told the Basilisk nearly everything. It's easy, talking to someone that literally can’t communicate with anyone else. And she doesn’t seem to judge- just thinks. No unnecessary emotions, just logical conclusions. He does his best not to keep secrets from her.
Well.
Except.
Regulus shakes his head and brushes that thought aside, resting back against her body. There’s still one thing he has yet to tell her about, though. And he should. He wants to, before…
Before.
Did I ever tell you what happened to my brother?
The Basilisk stiffens slightly, as if she can sense the weight of the question. No. Not really.
Regulus lets his eyes drift close. He does his best to work through the way his throat tightens, as it does every time he starts to think about that night. He needs to tell her. God, he needs to tell someone. The words have been clawing at the back of his lips for nearly a year.
My parents wanted him to join The Dar- Tom Riddle. He said no, of course. I don’t know what they were expecting. He shakes his head bitterly. That’s a lie. I know exactly what they were expecting. What I don’t understand is why they thought it’d work.
He refused? The Basilisk asked softly.
Yeah, Regulus wants to smile. Wants to laugh. He can’t. He refused. And they didn’t like that. So- they punished him. And… and he asked me to help. Regulus bends over slightly, stomach clenching. It’s where he always feels his guilt the strongest. He begged me to stop them, to help him, anything. He blinks quickly.
And what did you do?
I told him to get The Mark. Regulus rasps, voice choked and thick. I told him to do it. I thought- I thought that would make them stop. I thought I was helping.
You were afraid. The Basilisk doesn’t ask; it’s not a question.
Regulus nods. I was afraid, he gasps, and furiously swipes at his eyes. It’s all coming apart inside him, memories and long buried emotions rearing their ugly heads.
The Basilisk moves slowly, curling her body a bit more. Bending around him, just slightly, just enough for him to lean into her. She’s comforting him, he realizes. The thought makes everything ten times worse. And then?
And then- and then they asked me to cut him.
Oh. The Basilisk goes quiet, waiting. It’s a silent question, one that hangs in the air around them and creeps around Regulus’s throat, choking him like a noose.
I did. He manages eventually. I hurt him. I was- I was so afraid.
The Basilisk takes a deep breath that Regulus can feel under her skin. He shakes his head. There was- there was a lot of blood. He almost died. He thinks about how Sirius looked on that carpet, eyes closed and pulse fluttering.
Why didn’t he?
Regulus sighs, wiping his eyes again. I patched him up. Or, I tried to. I took him upstairs and used every healing charm I could think of. And he woke up, eventually.
So you regretted it?
Regulus nearly laughs. What do you mean? Of course I regretted it. I never wanted to do it in the first place. I never stopped regretting it.
You never wanted to do it- so why did you?
Regulus furrows his brow. I was Imperiod.
The Basilisk shifts behind him. You had no choice?
Well-
If you had no choice, why would you blame yourself?
Regulus shakes his head, frustrated. No. You don’t get it. I didn’t even try to throw off the curse. I should’ve done something, before it got to that point. I should’ve- I should’ve done something.
It sounds like you couldn’t.
He blinks then squeezes his eyes shut hard. I could’ve tried.
You didn’t tell him. Her voice is calm and he leans into it gently.
I don’t see what difference it makes, he admits. He thinks I did it. He chooses to believe that I did that willingly. If he thinks I’d do that then… and I- I mean, he’s right.
The Basilisk hums, going quiet for a long moment. Are you afraid of your brother?
Regulus wasn’t expecting that one. He would never hurt me.
Not physically, you mean. Are you afraid he’ll hurt you in other ways?
I… Regulus remembers something, pausing. When I first got to school, I wanted to be a Gryffindor. The Basilisk makes a disgruntled sound but lets him continue. I begged the Sorting Hat to let me in. I wanted to be with Sirius and his mates.
“But you’re a coward, Regulus Black.” The Sorting Hat had hissed. “Why would I put you in the house known most for its nobility?”
Eleven year old Regulus had furrowed his brow. “But- But mother and father want me in Slytherin. I’m being brave! I’m going against their wishes!”
“You’re more afraid of losing your brother than of your parents. There’s nothing brave about hiding behind another.”
Regulus had tried to argue, but his time was up. “SLYTHERIN!” The Sorting Hat had shouted, and Regulus’s fate sealed itself right in front of his eyes.
He got a proud letter from his parents the next morning.
The Sorting Hat said no, he continues to the Basilisk. It said I was too afraid of my brother. He cocks his head at the Basilisk. Maybe you two would get along.
Me and… the hat?
Anyway, to answer your question, the Sorting Hat certainly thinks I am.
So you are afraid, then. You’re afraid of telling him because… why?
Regulus’s stomach tightens. I don’t know. It doesn’t matter.
The Basilisk flicks her tongue. I think it does. I think it’s holding you back. What’s the reason?
Regulus grips his hand into a fist. I don’t want to talk about this anymore.
You brought it up, Little Prince.
I’ve reconsidered.
Are you afraid it wouldn’t change anything?
Regulus freezes, fist clenched. Everything inside him goes still. What ?
The Basilisk hisses. Are you afraid that if you tell him that you didn’t mean to, that you were controlled, that you had no choice, he still won’t forgive you?
I… that’s not it. But- wasn’t it? Wasn’t that exactly the reason? Wasn’t that what he’d dreaded since his brother woke up on that bed?
Are you sure? The Basilisk asks.
He’d- I- Regulus thinks about Sirius’s face, broken and begging on the carpet. From pleading and helpless to pure fury the second Regulus’s hand moved.
Because, Little Prince, if that’s not right, I see no reason for your continued estrangement.
Regulus leans forward, gripping his knees. Letting his head hang towards the ground, he forces himself to take deep breaths. He wouldn’t do that. He’d understand.
Then why won’t you tell him? The Basilisk curls her head towards him.
A tear lands on the white marble between his knees. Regulus stares at it. I…
I’m not saying you should do anything, Little Prince. I’m just asking you to think about why you won’t.
Regulus’s dread curls in on itself, grief overpowering. What if he hates me? What if he doesn’t understand?
From what I can tell, he’s not like that. You’re thinking like a Slytherin, Little Prince.
I guess the Sorting Hat made the right call then.
The Basilisk hisses softly. My Master would be proud to have you in his house.
And, oh.
Regulus lets the words sink in as he reaches up, pressing his hands into his face. I don’t… I don’t think he would.
How so?
Regulus wipes his eyes, taking a shuddering breath. I don’t think I care about blood supremacy.
The Basilisk goes quiet for a moment. Why not? You were raised otherwise, if what you’ve told me is true.
Yeah. Very much so. But- I don’t believe in it. I don’t think. It’s what I was taught, though, so it’s difficult to… separate that. But I don’t want to hurt people. I don’t think people should be hurt.
The Basilisk hums. Muggles killed my Master’s family .
Why?
They didn’t trust magic.
Oh. Regulus pauses, thinking. Do you… do you think all Muggles should be punished for that?
The Basilisk lets out a soft growling sound. Yes. It’s a definitive answer, one cemented by years of hate.
Regulus closes his eyes gently. I don’t want to hurt anyone, he says again.
He tries vehemently, desperately hard to ignore the irony of that statement.
Have you ever?
Hurt anyone?
Yes.
Regulus studies his nails. Sometimes he can still see the white powder under them. Sometimes he still has to resist the urge to rip them off. Yeah.
Who?
A group of muggles. I made a potion that was supposed to kill them. It didn’t work, fully. I don’t- I don’t think they’ve woken up yet. Regulus keeps himself updated, scouring any and all newspapers he finds for their names. He’s memorized every single one.
You make a lot of potions.
Regulus swallows uncomfortably. I guess I do.
Is that what you’re going to do after school? Make potions?
Regulus thinks about that. His stomach turns over at the thought of brewing more like the one he made for the Dark Lord. But Monty, the cure, James’s sleeping draughts…
I wouldn’t make anything that would hurt people. I would… I would invent cures and stuff.
You’d be a healer?
Regulus nods, imagining it. Yeah. I guess so.
You’d make a good healer.
Regulus runs his hand down her side. You said once that your master made potions?
Yes. He was good. I think that’s what he was planning on doing after he… left.
Regulus nods. Did he say goodbye?
The Basilisk tenses under his hand, then hisses out a long breath and relaxes. No. I wish he did. I wanted him to. I told him he should, if he ever left.
Regulus casts a tempus charm. 10:38 pm.
Fuck.
Why didn’t he? Regulus asks, waving away the charm and swallowing his rising guilt. Everything inside him is fracturing and crumbling, and he’s given up trying to still his hands.
The Basilisk doesn’t answer, twisting her head to look away from him. Did your brother? Say goodbye, I mean.
No.
Then you understand. You still care for him, yes?
Regulus hugs himself, gripping his shoulders as tight as he can. The left one aches. The things he and I feel towards each other are… beyond complicated.
But not all is lost?
Regulus thinks of the other day in the corridor, when Sirius jumped in front of that wand before Regulus could even register the threat. He thinks of the look he gave him after, long and searching. I- I don’t know. He’s protected me since then. Since he left.
He would do a lot for you.
Regulus’s heart clenches as he strokes the Basilisk’s scales. And I would do a lot for him.
The Basilisk goes quiet. Very quiet. After a long minute, she speaks. Are you going to leave?
Regulus’s whole body shudders, bending and folding in on itself. Everything inside him feels like it’s about to snap. Why would you ask that? He manages finally, voice torn and choked.
Nothing. You just smell… different. Sadder.You smell like… She trails off, but Regulus knows what she was going to say. You smell like he did. You smell like Salazar.
He wonders if she knows by now it’s the smell of guilt.
He crawls forwards on his hands and knees, settling down right in front of her face. He examines the hue of her scales, how they get lighter towards her underbelly. I’m not going anywhere, he whispers, running a hand over one of her swollen eyes. I’ll stay with you as long as I can.
I get the feeling that’s a lot shorter than I’d like it to be.
It's time.
He nods, shutting his eyes and stroking her head. His other hand, shaking and traitorous, reaches into his bag. Unscrews the lid of the jar. The air fills with the smell of lavender. He chokes on it.
God, why can’t he stop crying?
His mother would tell him he’s being weak. His father would hit the back of his head and tell him tears were for cowards.
His brother would hold him and tell him sometimes crying is ok, as long as no one sees.
His tears land on the Basilisk’s dark green skin, shimmering and plentiful. She sniffs gently. Regulus can feel the puff of air on his face.
What’s that smell?
Regulus lets out another choked back sound. He keeps petting her head. I’m wearing James’s shirt.
He smells like lavender?
He really does, Regulus whispers. He wipes his face, tears still falling.
You’re crying. The Basilisk hisses.
I’m- I’m sorry.
Don’t cry, Little Prince.
Her tongue flicks out, tasting the tears on his hand.
And before he can think, before he can stop himself, before he can do anything but follow his mother’s orders, he lifts the jar and pours the syrupy purple potion over her tongue and into her mouth.
Because the Sorting Hat was right. Regulus Black has always been a coward.
And he hates himself for it.
Instantly the Basilisk tears away, head thrashing as she tries to shake off the potion. Regulus crawls back on his elbows, dropping the jar. It shatters and as he drags himself back he catches his arm on a piece of glass. He can’t feel the pain.
What- what is this? What did you do? The Basilisk’s words start to slur, movements becoming thick and heavy.
I’m so sorry, Regulus says, and then he’s breaking, sobs shaking his body as he pulls himself to his knees. I’m so sorry. I’m so sorry. I’m so sorry.
He digs his fingers into the cut on his arm because he wants to hurt. He needs to hurt. He deserves to hurt. I’m so sorry. I’m so sorry.
The draught is already affecting her, because unfortunately Regulus is good at what he does. The Basilisk stops thrashing, head still high but chin dipping with the energy of staying upright. What is it? What did you do?
A sleep potion. It won’t hurt. I made it so it wouldn’t hurt.
W-why? Her voice breaks and all Regulus can do is shake his head, words caught in his chest.
The Basilisk drops her head towards him. Don’t go. P-please. The potion leaves her slightly disoriented, unable to think clearly as she resists its pull.
Regulus cries harder, still unable to answer. She could kill him. She can smell him, and she still has her fangs. One drop of her venom and he’d be dead within five minutes. She could kill him so easily.
She doesn’t.
I’m so sorry, he manages again, because he doesn't know how else to tell her.
D-don’t leave.
Regulus shakes his head, fingers digging into his arm. For once, the pain doesn’t wipe away the agony. For once, it only serves as a reminder. I’m not going anywhere, he chokes. I’m not going anywhere. They both know it’s a lie.
The Basilisk’s body finally droops, wilting like a flower. Soft and gentle, she finds her way to the ground. Her head rests in front of him, breathing slow and heavy. Why? She asks. What did I do?
He reaches out with a shaking and bloody hand, resting it right between her eyes. I’m so sorry, he whispers again, tears dripping from his chin. He doesn’t think he could shove it all down if he tried. No mental door, no room, no ocean is big enough for everything he’s feeling.
Don’t go, she manages again. Her Parseltounge has always felt so much gentler than the Dark Lord’s. So much kinder. It’s slurred now, slurred and heavy with sleep. Don’t go without saying goodbye.
He can’t breathe through his tears.
Please, Little Prince.Please.
Bending forward, he rests his forehead against the space between her eyes. He lets his lashes flutter closed and tries to hold back his gasps, for her sake. He wonders if she knows the guilt is all-consuming. He wonders if she knows he’ll never fully be rid of it. He wonders if she knows none of this was ever his choice. He wishes he could tell her.
But that’s not what she wants to hear right now.
He can do this for her. He can do the one thing Salazar and Tom Riddle didn't.
Goodbye, Saskia.
Her breathing slows, methodical and measured.
She’s already asleep.
He doesn’t move for a long, long time. Then eventually, when he has no other choice, he sits back on his knees. He wipes his tears, though he knows that it’ll make no difference.
He doesn’t take his hand off her head, thumb still running over her scales. Carefully, he pries open her mouth with the other hand, grabbing his wand.
The stunning curse hits her in the back of her throat, and he watches as her body goes rigged. Since her mouth was open when she was stunned, it stays that way. Her fangs seem to mock him, glinting cruelly. He has to look away, moving himself backwards. I’m so sorry , he says again, though it’ll never be enough. A tear slips down his face. I tried this time, Saskia. He whispers. I tried so hard. I was going to get out. I was going to be brave.
He looks down at his hands. I was so stupid. I was so so stupid. My- my mother saw my boggart. She’s seen it since I was seven. She knew what it’d take to make me do this. She knew she’d have to use my worst fucking fear.
He points his wand at his arm, healing it quickly. This Chamber doesn’t need anymore blood staining its marble floors. It’s not fair, he chokes out, and sounds like a petulant child. It’s not. I don’t- he swipes at his face with his sleeve. I don’t wanna do this. I don’t.
I was trying to be brave, he says. Crawling closer, he runs a thumb over her swollen-shut eye. Her mouth is still frozen open. She looks like a taxidermy exhibit. She looks like she belongs in the Defense Against the Dark Arts classroom. Every part of him hurts. A few more tears slip down his cheeks.
He was so close.
So close.
He was willing to forgo the Dark Lord’s punishment, willing to risk his wrath, all for her. He was willing to try. Willing to push past his fear of him in favor of his love for her.
Because he does love her. Desperately. Ardently.
He just loves his brother more.
With his heart ripping itself to shreds, Regulus reaches down to his shoe and pulls out the knife.
---
Regulus learns two things that night. Firstly, Basilisks bleed red, not green. The book he stole from Lupin was wrong in that regard. Secondly, once you’ve got their blood on you, it never really seems to come off- no matter how hard you scrub.