Grieving for the Living
How's one to know?
I'd meet you where the spirit meets the bones
In a faith-forgotten land
July 31st, 1976
Broken, bloody, and bruised.
James had heard that saying more than a few times, but had never seen someone, or something, that could be described that way. To be honest, he usually heard people say it in a kind of funny way- not really meaning the impact of the words. It was an over-exaggeration of a scenario. Someone's state after a lost Quidditch game, the feeling of post-OWLs, the works. It was never a real thing.
It was the summer before James' sixth year. Sirius had already been living with the Potters for close to a year. The war was heating up, they all knew that, but in the idyllic escape of the Potter Cottage, James had managed to have an all-right summer. A fun one, even. Trips to Cornwall with Sirius and Pete, afternoons in the back garden with Remus and the rest of them. It was fun. It had been normal. Even if it hadn't been, it’s highly doubtful anyone would have expected this. This was about as close to the unimaginable as things seemed to get.
–
The night it all changed there was a summer storm. Thunder rolled through the thick, humid air like uncontrolled magic. Lightning struck with unusual force, shattering the dark night sky into a web of fragmented shadows, slicing stars and constellations to pieces.
Looking back, the storm raging on in the countryside of England must have been an indication of what was to come. James should have realized, of course. In magical areas, storms like that don't just happen. They're made. It was hot and sticky, stifling and uncomfortable. Impossible to hide from. Impossible to escape.
All it took was a crack of apparition that almost got lost amongst the sound of thunder. If it wasn't for the wards, James isn't sure they would have heard it. Isn't sure that they would have found him in time. He finds himself thinking about this often, in the years to come.
At the sound of the wards, James’ parents shared a look before rushing to the door, wands drawn and warning the boys to stay back. It didn’t matter, Sirius and James were at their heels. When they opened the door, it's not what any of them were expecting. James knows that. He knows that no one would have guessed this, but for some reason, he can’t put it past himself. That he didn't do something. To stop them. To protect him.
Him. Regulus Arcturus Black, the newly named heir to the Noble and Most Ancient House of Black, lay crumpled on the front porch of the Potter Cottage. The first thing James thought when he looked at Regulus was broken, bloody, and bruised.
Pale white skin, dark curls in disarray. Bruises bloomed from multiple points on his exposed skin, as though someone had aimed to hurt him, but didn't seem to mind as to how, or where. His mouth slightly parted, lip bust open. Blood dripped from both nostrils.
Despite his unconscious state, Regulus’ fingers and limbs seemed to twitch. If it wasn’t for that, James wouldn’t have been sure he was alive. He recognizes this immediately: Cruciatus.
Effie rushes forward first.
“Oh, love. You’re okay now," she whispers, waving her wand up and down Regulus’ body. Her hands massage small circles into his twitching ones. All she gets in return is a high pitched whimper as Regulus’ eyelids flutter.
An eternity could have passed in the seconds it took James to recognize what was happening. Regulus Black was right there, on his porch, and close to unrecognizable from the severity of his injuries.
“Is he okay?” asks a small voice.
In the chaos of it all, James thinks it's a child at first, and distantly wonders where it came from. That is, until he comes to and realizes it's Sirius. James spins around to look at him, and in his place he doesn't see his almost 17-year old best friend, but a harrowed version of the 11-year old he first met on the Hogwarts Express.
"He’s hurt, but it's nothing I can’t handle,” Effie smiles tightly, “Boys, I know you're going to want to help, and I know you're scared, but I need you to stay put while I concentrate on helping Regulus, okay?"
James is speechless, looking from his mum, to Regulus, to Sirius. Sirius stares blankly at Regulus, unable to move or think, or even hear, it seems like. So James grabs his friend by the arm, pulling him close. Reminding him he’s there. But mostly, James slams his mouth shut and nods. He doesn't think there's anything he could say in this moment anyway, and his mother seems to appreciate it, giving him a sad smile and murmuring a “Levicorpus” under her breath. James watches as Regulus floats up in the air and into the house, trailing out of sight as his mother takes him upstairs.
James’ father, who's still re-warding the house yells from the front garden, “Get in the house, James. Start a kettle and wait in the sitting room for your mother. It’s going to be a long night.”
–
“He couldn't even talk.”
James looks up with a start. He and Sirius had been in the sitting room nursing mugs of tea for hours now. Not a word had been said between the two of them in that time.
“What, mate?” James asks. He knows what Sirius said, he just isn't sure what to say. Plus, this way, it'll get Sirius talking.
“Didn't you hear him? When your mum told him he was okay? He couldn't even talk. He just… whimpered. Like a fucking animal. What the fuck did they do to him, James?”
The last question is whispered, like Sirius is scared that his parents might hear him ask. James knows what they did. Or at least part of it. In all honesty, he hasn't been able to get the sight of Regulus on the front porch out of his head as they've waited. The bruises. The blood. The twitching fingers. It’s been flashing through his head like some sick supercut for hours now. But James can't say that, because he knows Sirius knows too, and can’t hear it right now.
“I don't know, mate. It looked bad, I know, but mum is a great healer... She’ll make sure he’s okay. I know she will.” James wonders if Sirius can tell that he’s trying to convince himself that his mum can fix Regulus. It's not that he doesn't think she will, she's a great healer, like he said. But, well… James doesn't know if his mum has treated someone in a state like that before. She doesn't really talk about her time at St. Mungos. Even when Sirius had shown up, tumbling out of their floo all those months ago, he hadn't been in that bad of shape. James chews on his bottom lip.
“Why aren't they taking him to St. Mungos? I know Effie is a good healer, but you saw him, James. He needs the best. He needs serious care, hospital observation! We need to take him!” Sirius is starting to get angry now, his voice rising and getting gruff like it always does when he doesn't agree with something.
“Sirius, my mum can do this. If she can’t, she’ll find someone who can come here. I don't think she can risk moving him, and especially not to St. Mungos. Imagine if your parents came? If they tried to take him back to Grimmauld?”
Sirius deflates at this. Shutting down. His face falls into a mask and he sits up straighter, setting his jaw. He would look bored rather than upset if it wasn't for the rest of his appearance. His hair frizzy, red ringed eyes. His shaking knee. James doesn't know if it's because Sirius hadn't considered that happening, or if it's because James mentioned his parents. Or Grimmauld Place.
James is thinking about what to say next when Bea, the Potter’s house elf, silently apparates into the room.
“Mrs. Effie is telling Bea to get James and Sirius now. She is wanting you to come upstairs and see Mr. Regulus. She is saying he is going to be okay.” Bea looks at the two boys meaningfully, her big blue eyes as wide as saucers as she takes them in.
Sirius gets up wordlessly, rushing past James and Bea and pounding up the stairs. James follows, trying to catch up to Sirius, but he makes it in just before him. Sirius plows through the doorway, eager to reach his little brother. James is right behind him, looking over his shoulder.
“Oh,” Sirius says quietly.
Mrs. Potter is sitting at Regulus’ bedside, her hand once again rubbing soothing circles into his. You can tell she’s been crying, her eyes red and glassy, and her cheeks flushed.
“He's okay, Sirius. Shaken up, and in pain, no question, but he’s okay.”
James shifts his gaze from his mum to Regulus and realizes with a swoop in his stomach that Regulus is awake, and staring right back at him. James takes him in. Regulus is pale, paler than usual, and his hair is still a mess. James can see dried blood in it that his mum must have missed. His bruises are gone, but he has deep, dark circles under his eyes like he hasn't slept in days. Even his lips are pale, and look cracked.
James looks back at Regulus’ hands that are enclosed in his mother's. He can make out that his fingers are still sporadically twitching.
“You're really okay then?” asks Sirius, staring at his little brother.
Regulus shifts his gaze onto Sirius and stares flatly at him before answering, his voice scratchy and raw. It quickly occurs to James how much Regulus must have been screaming for it to get that way. He involuntarily winces at the thought.
“I've been better, but I'm fine. I guess. Sorry about earlier. I shouldn't have been so-," Regulus pauses, "dramatic.”
“Reg no,” Sirius says, rushing forward, “Don’t say that shit. I- I didn't know if you would be okay. Don't say that.”
The two brothers stare at each other, blue eyes boring into gray. They seem to be having a conversation amongst themselves through that look alone. Eventually, Regulus seems to resign himself, lowering his gaze and dipping his chin in response.
“I’d like to get some sleep now, if that’s okay, Mrs. Potter. I can't thank you enough for helping me despite my intrusion.” Effie looks down at him, a deep sadness resting in her gaze.
“Yes, love, of course. You rest up, and just call me or Bea if you need anything. Anything at all. I've left a dreamless sleep potion right there on your nightstand if you need it.” Regulus avoids her eyes and nods, staring fixedly at the floor.
“Come, boys. It's late. We should all get some sleep.”
–
“Can you believe that?” Sirius grumbles in the dark to James.
They're sharing a bed, like they used to when they were younger.
“Believe what?” James asks incredulously.
“How Regulus was acting back there? What he said?”
James is quiet for a moment, racking his brain for the moment Sirius is referencing.
“I can't thank you enough for helping me despite my intrusion,” Sirius scoffs, “I mean, Merlin, really? Even after being bloody beaten half to death he still acts just how they want him to. Like he should be embarrassed that they did that to him. It's bollocks.”
“I don't know, mate. I don't think he meant anything by it… He’s probably pretty upset, barely thinking. I mean, he did just get "bloody beaten half to death" and is in a stranger's house, getting loved on by someone else’s mum. I imagine it's a bit shocking really.”
Silence stretches between them in the darkness and James wonders if he said the wrong thing, but then Sirius lets out a low laugh.
“Yeah, I guess you're right. Huh, imagine that. Beat by your own mother one minute, and then loved on by another one the next. Can't say I haven't been there.”
It's James’ turn to be silent now. It's not that Sirius said anything wrong, but what happened to him last year is still a sensitive topic for James. Even if Sirius feels like it's something he can make light of now, James knows that it won't ever be a thing he can joke about. This night won't be either.
The quietness of the room spreads over them, and within a few minutes, James can tell that Sirius has fallen asleep based on the even breathing beside him. Something wriggles in his chest, making him feel nervous. Eventually, he falls asleep. He dreams of stormy grey eyes, dark curls, and blood. So much blood.