Seventeen (Reprise)
Maman
Rentrer chez nous. Maintenant.
Regulus stood backstage, frowning through teary eyes down at his phone. The rest of the cast is bunched together, all crying, smiling and celebrating together because they're done. They're done with the musical. Many months and four shows later, they're done with Heathers. It's over. Sirius is particularly emotional, because it's his last high school show. He's had his time to shine as Heather Chandler, as a theatre kid of Hogwarts Secondary School, and now, he's on to doing whatever he's going to do next. He's sobbing, weaving between their friends and hugging all those who will let him. Regulus sure hoped he wasn't like that next year but at the current moment, it was the least of his worries.
James is draped over his back, head tucked into his neck and arms wound tightly around his waist. The collar of Regulus' suit jacket is wet, soaking up the relentless stream of tears that slide down his face and fall onto Regulus' shoulder. Regulus wanted to comfort him more, even if he wasn't entirely sad, per se, but his mind is occupied by something much bigger, and much more terrifying:
Facing his mother.
"Celebratory after party is round mine," Peter said, and Regulus looked up from his phone as he was addressed. "You two coming?"
James shifted and propped his chin up on Regulus' shoulder. "I'm down."
Regulus made a face, eyes drifting back down to his mother's message. "I can't. Maman wants me home."
James' grip tightened instinctively and across the circle, Sirius scowled. "You'll be okay, right?"
"Hopefully." Regulus muttered.
"That's not exactly reassuring, love."
"I can't promise you anything. Maman is...unpredictable. There's no telling what she'll do."
"You text me - or Effie, or McGonagall, or any one of us - the second anything goes wrong, okay?" Sirius said.
"I will," Regulus promised and wormed his way out of James' grip. "Have fun, get super drunk for me."
The group chorused their collective, somber goodbyes as Regulus slipped away. He quickly changed out of his costume, washed off his stage makeup, gathered his things and slipped out of the building. It was too late to catch a bus now and to ensure his journey home took as long as possible, Regulus elected to walk. It gave him time to mentally script what he might say to explain everything. His mind ran rampant, several scenarios - all frighteningly possible - rushing through his brain. He thought of ways he might be able to slip out of the house if things went too far. The Potters weren't that far, the Rosiers were closer (though Regulus didn't quite trust their dad not to sell him out if he ran there). Dorcas' place was also an option. He could also go chill on a park bench. That might be the last place Walburga would come looking for him. Maybe he shouldn't go home at all. What's the point? Walburga was going to yell at him, hurt him. There was no way he'd go into that house one last time and come out unscathed. He could do just like every great lizard: he could cower. He could do what he's always done and avoid his problems, stow away somewhere else until he had no other choice but to face the music.
Or he could be the phoenix Sirius said he was and be courageous now. Stand his ground, be confident in himself and his identity. He could, for once in his miserable life, speak for himself, go against his mother to be the person he truly was.
Before he could properly decide which route his was going to follow, Regulus had come to a stop outside Number 12. It was darker and gloomier than it had felt like these past few months. In the time it had been Regulus and Regulus alone, the house had slightly lost it's dark aura, felt lived in and not haunted, felt like some semblance of a home. With his mother's return, her shiny black car taking space in the drive, the shadows seemed to claw up the walls higher than it did before. They danced and curled around the lattice, seeped into windows and bathed on the shingles.
Regulus was overcomed with the fierce instinct to run, to sprint back down the street and never, ever come face-to-face with this wretched house again. All the newer, rose-coloured, warm-ish memories he'd made in the past few months - movie marathons with Barty, baking cookies with Remus, Lily and all his friends, Dorcas having him put on fashion shows in his bedroom to ensure he 'knew how to use his new wardrobe,' hours sent spread out across the living room as Evan showed him music from his favourite bands, Pandora quietly making jewelry in the corner while Regulus wrote his slightly less devastating than normal poetry in his journal, the two never talking, happy to work in nothing but each other's presence - felt like nothing. They were vague, dream-like memories tucked into the farthest corners of his mind while all the dark, thorn wrapped nightmares burst free from their chained prisons. As Regulus looked at Number 12, he thought of Sirius screaming in the drawing room instead of Barty's wheezing laugh. He thought of a sharp, ringed, boney hand digging into his shoulder, forcing him to watch as Orion beat his sibling black and blue instead of nights tucked into Pandora's side while they watched whatever show she wanted to show him. He thought of long hair, uncomfortable blouses, short skirts and the dead stare of Regina looking back at him from across the mirror instead of turtlenecks, loose trousers, the occasional band t-shirt and the happier gaze of Regulus.
Right before Regulus could turn and go seek refuge somewhere else, the curtains from the living room fluttered and Walburga appeared in the window. She stared, unimpressed, and gestured him forwards with one sharp curl of her finger.
There was no point. She'd seen him. She'd track him down and drag him back the second he'd try to flee.
With a heavy sigh, a tremble of his hands and a deep, sinking feeling in his gut, Regulus dragged himself inside.
Her months of absence meant nothing to her appearance. Her eyes, steel grey and sharp as a dagger, pinned him with the same, unrelenting disappointment and scorching flame of anger. Her hair, pinstraight and dark as a raven's feathers - the same way his hair used to be - was shiny, perfect and tucked up into an elegant bun, not a single strand out of place. Her clothes were pristine, not a wrinkle in sight. Her hands, pale and skeletal, were clad in metal, the only finger bare being her left ring finger. She watched as he took of his shoes and set his belongings in their rightful places in the foyer, spine straight and arms crossed, her index finger tapping a slow, impatient rhythm.
"Regina." Walburga hissed, voice the low, dangerous slither of a snake poised to strike.
Regulus flinched on instinct but somehow, by some miracle, he stood his ground. His hands shook as he curled them into fists, he raised his chin but refused to look her in the eye, his voice wavered but he managed to say, "It's Regulus, Maman."
She scoffed. "Incroyable. This again? I shouldn't have to tell you twice, Regina. Under absolutely no circumstances will you ever be anything other than a girl. You can change your name," Regulus blinked and the distance between them had vanished. Walburga was there, digging a hand in his short curls and tugging on them hard enough that several strands were pulled from his head. He cried out in pain, head snapping back but Walburga didn't seem to care. "You can cut your hair," she dug her sharp, black-painted tips of her nails into the fabric of his shirt and pulled, tearing through the fabric with ease and exposing the transtape he had applied before the show. "And you can hide your body but underneath it all, nothing ever changes. Tu es une fille et tout le monde le sait."
Regulus grit his teeth. "Non. Tu ne comprends pas. You're not listening to me. You never do. It doesn't matter what you or anybody else thinks. I know. I know who I am, and I will continue to be that person. Nothing you, or anybody else can do will ever change that."
Walburga let go of his head and backhanded him across the face. Regulus stumbled back, head snapping with the movement. His cheek stung and he could feel a bead of blood drip down his face. She grabbed him by the chain of his black tourmaline crystal necklace, given to him by Pandora only a week ago and when that broke, she went for the still intact collar of his shredded shirt. Regulus choked and stumbled backwards, following her blindly up the stairs.
"How dare you talk back to me!" She shrieked. "You've been talking to that worthless, delinquent brother of yours,haven't you? Pourquoi est-ce que je demands? Je sais que tu as! Where else would you learn such disrespectful behaviour? You know better, Regina! I'd expect this from Sirius but from you? I'm seeing now you two are more alike than I once thought, and we can't have that."
Walburga dragged him into the bathroom and slammed the door shut. She threw him down on the floor and turned on the tub. Regulus watched in confusion, rubbing his throat, as the bath slowly filled with water.
"And the musical," Walburga laughed, the sound as grating as nails on a chalkboard. "You just had to ruin it, didn't you? Had to go blabbing your pathetic sob story, had to beg Minerva McGonagall to let you play as a boy. You've disgraced our family name, have every audience member in that dastardly theatre convinced that this is what the House of Black stands for. That we approve of not only this 'transgenderism' agenda you're so obsessed with, but also that being a faggot is acceptable. I may know better, but to the outside eye, you played a gay character in a homo relationship with that damned Potter boy. That role, that image is now tied to your name, and the family by extension. Sirius may be a disappointment but never had he ever disgraced our name so publicly as you have in my absence. I thought I could trust you, thought you were responsible enough to carry our reputation while I was on a business trip but clearly, I was wrong. I never thought I'd see the day where my beautiful, obedient, perfect daughter became a monster. You're a brainless, conceited, attempted copy of your corrupt brother and if it's like him you wish to act, it's like him you will be punished."
Walburga slammed the tap closed and gripped Regulus by the hair again. She tugged him over, ignoring his pained whimpers as he attempted to fight back. She kicked in his knees and Regulus collapsed to the tiles, hands flying forwards to brace himself on the edge of the tub. "Comprends que c'est ta faute."
Despite Regulus Black being an intelligent individual, his brain seemed to be processing at the speed of molasses. Thoughts, anticipations and prediction skills seemed to be caught in cobwebs, drifting slowly through his mind and catching on every corner. On a normal day, Regulus would've been able to see what was coming and fight his way out, throw his mother off, break free from her grip and call Sirius to get him the fuck out of here. However, this was not a normal day and Regulus felt nothing but blazing panic and unbelievable amounts of shock as Walburga pushed his head under the water.
You know that thing people say about drowning? They say don't panic, that it'll only make you lose your air faster.
Clearly, those people have never been in a situation in which they were drowning because how can someone who is being forcefully trapped under water remain calm? They can't. Because no matter whether your instinctive reaction is to fight, flee or freeze, your lungs are being deprived of oxygen and your body will stop at nothing to inhale, oblivious to the fact that doing so will be your own downfall. It realizes that no matter how many times you try to breathe in, air is not coming. It finally catches up to your brain, understanding for the first time just how close a person can come to death in their everyday lives and it begins to thrash, fighting against the hand holding them under, desperate for one, final chest expansion.
Walburga yanked his head back and Regulus coughed, body heaving as his lungs greedily consumed the newly accessible oxygen. Her other hand, clasped around the back of his neck, tightened, nails poking bleeding holes into his skin. She hissed a "tu es minable," into his ear, barely letting him inhale one last breath before shoving him back under again.
Regulus knew that drowning was a horrible way to go. You hear stories of kids who think they're tough shit pushing themselves to the limit in a random lake and never making it out again. You hear of people who are stupid enough to walk across thinly frozen ponds and fall through, getting trapped under the ice. You hear, you hear, you hear. Story after story, tale after tale, article after article appearing in the news about how some new individual managed to drown. What they don't tell you about is how much it hurts.
His chest spasmed, muscles fighting back against his brain the longer he kept his mouth closed, the longer he held his dwindling breath. Eventually, he was too weak to fight back and gave in, mouth opening in a desperate attempt to ease the fire in his lungs. Instead of relief, the pain only intensified. The water clawed at his throat, at his lungs and he had let it in once, there was no stopping it now.
His brain grew hazy, a cloud of fog following over his thoughts. He trashed through it, pushing back against Walburga's hands until finally, finally, one particularly harsh push of his hands against the edge of the tub threw them both backwards. Walburga's head collided with the sharp corner of the vanity and she slumped to the floor without a sound, knocked out cold. Not that Regulus noticed. He coughed and his stomach heaved, emptying it's contents all over the floor. Nothing but water came up.
The oxygen, despite the ease it brought, hurt like a bitch as Regulus gasped again and again. The fog didn't clear, only growing thicker as Regulus' arms gave out under him and he collapsed to the floor. With his final working brain cells, he dug into his pocket and dialed Sirius' number.
The first ring hadn't even passed before the call was accepted. "Reggie? What is it? Are you alright? What happened?"
The only thing Regulus managed to wheeze out in a small, scratchy voice was, "Help."
"I'm on my way. Can you tell me what happened? What hurts? What did she do? Reggie-"
Regulus didn't hear the rest of it, head thunking against the cool tiles as the fog took over and his eyelids finally slipped shut.
He was out for two days.
When he came to, he noticed several things.
One, there was an IV in his arm.
Two, he could breathe but fucking hell it hurt.
Three, someone - or multiple someones - were talking in the corner.
Four, he was no longer at Grimmauld.
Five, his hand was warm.
Regulus peeled his eyes open, almost immediately snapping them shut again as he was assaulted by blinding white light. If the smell of hospital wasn't so distinct, Regulus would've assumed he had died.
He tried again a few seconds later, more prepared. When his eyes adjusted, he shifted his head to his right and looked down. There lay James, sitting in a shitty quality foldable chair, head resting on the bed next to their intertwined hands, his glasses askew. It didn't look like a peaceful sleep, if the tightness of his face and the lines between his eyebrows were anything to go by. Regulus frowned and reached his free hand over, brushing a few of his unruly curls out of his eyes and tracing those lines between them, watching them smooth and ease under his touch. He smiled, a barely there uptick of his lip. Despite the less than ideal situation, he couldn't help admire the almost angelic glow his boyfriend seemed to hold.
His tranquil moment was shattered as he was tackled from his other side.
Regulus groaned, folding up a bit and prying his hand from James' grip to hold the tense ball of sister he'd just been hit with. The conversation across the room came to an abrupt halt and next to them, James shot awake, glasses falling off his face and onto the floor in the process. For the time being, he didn't care, simply wound his arms around Sirius' shoulders as he was squeezed within an inch of his life.
"Sirius," Regulus managed to squawk out, voice low and rough as gravel. "If you don't let go, I'm going to pass out again."
Instead of a worded reply, Regulus received a heaving sob into his abdomen, though thankfully, his cage was loosened and he was able to inhale a full breath. "Did you really miss me that much? You're always telling me to shut the fuck up, I figured you would've appreciated the silence."
Sirius sat back and glared at him, his poor attempt at humour clearly unwelcomed. He looked like absolute dogshit, to put it simply. His curls were a rat's nest upon his head, something Regulus thought he'd never see, and deep purple bags hugged red-timmed, teary eyes and stood out against his pale complexion. He looked deranged and unbelievably exhausted. If the small collection of empty energy drink cans and coffee cups were anything to go buy, Regulus would assume Sirius hadn't slept a wink.
"You nearly died," Sirius whispered and their voice didn't sound much better than Regulus'. They tightened their hold on him again, for a moment. "Never fucking do that again."
"Well, I wasn't anticipating nearly being drowned to death but if such a situation ever occurs again, I'll steer clear."
"How are you so calm?"
Regulus shrugged. "I had plenty of time to panic and come to terms with death while I couldn't fucking breathe. I'm honestly surprised I'm alive right now."
"You're heart nearly stopped. Thankfully, the ambulance got to you before that bitch woke up, or she might've finished the job."
Regulus stiffened at the mention of their mother. "What happened to her?"
"Arrested," said the voice of Minerva, who happened to be one of the people conversing in the corner, along with Poppy, Euphemia and a young red-haired woman Regulus couldn't name. "She won't be able to hurt you again."
"It certainly makes our job a lot easier," said the red-head. She smiled and waved. "Nice to meet you, Regulus. I'm Molly Weasley, your attorney for the custody case. There will still have to be a trial, of course, to determine Walburga's prison sentence and to legally transfer custody to these two lovely women but due to recent events, we have plenty enough evidence. It's an open and shut case."
"That's good to hear, I guess," Regulus said. "At least something good can come from my suffering."
Molly stood. "I'll leave you, for now, and send the doctor in. She'll want to check in."
Regulus hummed, than coughed at the uncomfortable vibrations in his throat. Sirius slipped off him instantly, patting his back to help him through it. James watched, wide eyed, terrified and unable to do anything.
Dr. Sprout came in shortly after to perform a short check up. Thankfully, everything seemed on track to making a full recovery. She advised against talking too much and walked him through what his healing process would look like, littered with lots of check ups. Regulus tuned most of it out, more focused on James, who had yet to say a single word and kept looking at him like he might disappear. The only part he really remembered was when Dr. Sprout attempted to give him a cup of water. You can imagine how well that went.
When she left, Minerva clearly picked up on Regulus' concern and ushered everyone else out of the room (though Sirius took lengthy convincing) until it was only Regulus and James left. For a moment, neither of them moved.
Then, wordlessly, Regulus opened his arms.
James fell into them at a speed that shouldn't be humanly possible, burying his face in Regulus' neck. Regulus sighed in content and rested his chin upon James' curls, trailing his fingers up and down his boyfriend's back in a comforting manner.
"You scared the shit out of me," James said. "I thought you were gonna die."
"I didn't, though," Regulus murmured, planting a kiss to James' temple. "I'm right here. I'm not going anywhere."
"It's just sort of hit me, that you're not invincible. You're mortal, just as human as I am. It's terrifying, knowing you can die."
Regulus doesn't have a response for that, because he's right. He's human, they all are. They're meant to live, to grow, to feel, to experience and to, eventually, die. That's just how it works. There's no avoiding it. It happens to everyone. But truly understanding that, realizing that you never know when or how it might happen, what age you'll be, what you'll be doing or what you've accomplished- it's scary. But that's just how life goes. It doesn't stop, it doesn't pause, it doesn't wait for anybody. The world keeps turning, time keeps passing and you just have to learn to live with it.
"Is this how you felt?" James asked after a while. "When you found me in the bathroom? When I gave you those pills?"
"Yes." Regulus answered honestly, because there's no point in lying.
"I'm so sorry."
"Don't be, baby. You're better now. You're trying, and that's what matters. That's what counts."
A few moments passed. "Don't leave me. Ever. Please."
"I don't plan on leaving anytime soon. Don't you worry."
"I love you. I don't care that it's probably too soon but you almost fucking died and I don't think I can wait any longer and-"
Regulus cut him off with a gentle tug of his curls. "I love you, too."