Oh, Brother
Regulus came to with clammy hands on his chest and in his own.
He squeezed his eyes tighter, waiting for it to happen but nothing did. He registered the hands as not of his mother’s and eased his eyes open.
Sitting on a chair next to his bed was Sirius, his eyes closed as he held Regulus’ hand and felt his heartbeat. It was all too familiar of the bad nights at Grimmauld place when Sirius would crawl into Regulus’ bed and soothe him. As much as he appreciated it, Regulus knew it helped Sirius just as much as it did for him. To hold his brother and make sure nothing could get to him. To pretend that Walburga had never laid her hands on him, to pretend that she couldn’t get to them when they were under the safety of the duvet when they both knew all too well that was not true.
Regulus had half the mind to stay like this, to never wake Sirius and pretend like everything was okay in love and life but he knew that was just postponing the inevitable so he stirred, groaning, “Sirius?”
His brother's eyes snapped open and he instantly sat up, “Regulus? Hey, Are you okay? You hit your head, is it sore?” Sirius gave him an all over and felt Regulus’ forehead.
“A bit, it’s okay though. What time is it?” he asked, trying to sit up.
“Seven,” Sirius answered with a grimace.
“I’ve been asleep for four hours?!” He yelled, sitting bolt upright.
“Calm down, you’ll hurt yourself. Yes, Madame Pomfrey gave you a sleeping draught to give your heart a rest before you woke up,” Sirius responded frustratedly, trying to push Regulus back down.
He huffed, sitting back against his pillows, “Did I miss supper?”
“Yeah, James went to get us some food from the kitchens,” Sirius said before standing up, “I’m going to get Madame Pomfrey. Stay there.”
“Oh? but I was going to run away.” He replied sarcastically Sirius rolled his eyes and walked away.
It was so easy to act like this, how it should be. To pretend that a war wasn’t brewing. That Regulus wasn’t in the opening of a losing game. That they were okay.
Madame Pomfrey declared him healthy but still made him stay in the hospital wing for the night. Sirius stayed with him the whole time.
Dinner was a bit awkward. Regulus and Sirius not knowing where they stood in social situations while Potter was trying to make conversation that no one really had any interest in.
By the time curfew rolled around Madame Pomfrey tried to get Sirius to leave, reassuring him that Regulus staying the night was just a precaution, but he refused, sitting on the chair next to Regulus’ bed while he slept. He would have felt uncomfortable about someone watching him sleep if he wasn’t so thankful to have his brother back, even for a night he used his brother's light touch and steady breathing to soothe him to sleep.
***
In the morning Sirius walked him back to his dorm.
“Are you sure you're okay? Because we can go back to the hos-“
“I’m fine Sirius, I’ll see you at breakfast,” Regulus inched towards the common room entrance.
Sirius took the hint, “yeah okay, here,” he handed regulus his school bag -which he’d insisted on carrying- and gave his shoulder a squeeze before leaving.
As Regulus walked through the common room he felt everyone’s eyes on his, he just raised his chin and looked straight ahead and made a beeline to his dorm. He got showered and dressed, mind whirring. Why would anyone do this to him?
It made no sense.
Thankfully Evan and Barty believed that he didn’t put his own name in, they’d all apparently tried to go see him last night but were turned away by Pomfrey.
He made his way to breakfast with his friends, trying to ignore all of the curious looks or outright hatred.
He sat at the slytherin table and for the first time in years, he smiled when he and Sirius caught glances across the hall. It wasn’t going nearly as bad as he thought, until the post came.
Everyone spotted it, bright red and already steaming -making the bird visibly nervous.
A howler.
Going directly towards Dumbledore.
The entire hall was silent as the letter was dropped and everyone stared at Dumbledore for a reaction, some casting glances towards Regulus.
He went bright red as Dumbledore calmly picked up the howler, and opened it.
How dare you enter my son into the triwizard tournament unwillingly
-she was one to talk about unwillingly, regulus thought-
I would think very carefully about your next steps Albus and take him out of the games immediately. You will do well to remember that he is the black heir and I will not have him put in such unnecessarily dangerous situations. Unless this is changed you will be hearing from me again.
Mark my words.
And they did, in the next few days Slughorn, McGonagall and the minister of magic all received their own howlers with a similar script, the ministers even making allusive threats about their common friend and the new deal which seemed to have him on edge.
until they stopped.
No more howlers. No more screaming. No more contact.
The last thing Regulus heard from them was a small neat note. No one had even paid it a second glance when it had been delivered. It read;
Regulus Arcturus Black,
Do us proud.