On Begged and Borrowed Time

And every demon wants his pound of flesh

But I like to keep some things to myself

I like to keep my issues drawn

It's always darkest before the dawn

October 31st, 1976

Sirius can’t remember life before Regulus, or without him. He guesses that makes sense, really. He was only a little bit over a year old when Regulus was born, but still, Regulus has always been a complicated and comforting constant in his life. Even in the moments when he’s hated Regulus, he’s never imagined life without him or wanted him to hurt. When it comes down to it, the love Sirius has for Regulus is inexplicable. No words can describe what it feels like, to have a little brother. That’s the kind of love that he was born with, predestined by fate or circumstance, unbreakable even if he can barely look at Regulus sometimes. Eliminating Sirius’ love for Regulus would be to strip away a part of him that is so fundamental to who he is, that he’s not sure what would be left of him. He was born knowing Regulus, even if he was on this Earth before his little brother was.

Regulus is Sirius’ little brother, his baby brother. No one can take that away, even if they try, and they have. They continue to try. 

Sirius likes to think that before things got really bad at home and with his parents, he was a good big brother, a great one, even. He always loved being an older brother. He loved the responsibility of it and the fact that it was all his. No one else was or could be Regulus’ big brother– that was his alone, and he cherished it. Growing up, Sirius didn’t have much that was all his own that he actually wanted, besides Reggie.

There was nothing in the world that could have brought Sirius more genuine happiness than Regulus did when they were younger. He was sweet and shy and sensitive, always a little bit small for his age. He was all eyes and curls and gaps in his smile from where his baby teeth were missing. He was pure. Again, even though Sirius was only a year older, he just knew that about Regulus. It was intrinsic. He knew that Regulus needed to be cared for and protected. Since his mother wasn’t willing to do that herself– Reggie was the “spare” after all– Sirius did it instead. His father encouraged that bond between them and it’s the only thing he’s willingly held onto from his parents: the desire and instinct to protect his little brother.

Sirius was never like other older siblings that they grew up with. He was never mean or cruel to Regulus. He never dismissed him or pushed him away, until he did. When Sirius finally pushed Regulus away it hurt so badly, but part of it felt gratifying- like he was fully rejecting his family and becoming a better version of himself for it. But, deep down, even as he was pushing Regulus away and watching as he believed Regulus was changing to become exactly what their parents wanted him to be, there was a deep pit that rested in Sirius’ stomach, letting him know that this wasn’t how things were supposed to be.

There's also the fact that Sirius knows pain. He grew up with an abusive mother in a family that favored dark magic and severe punishment. But after tonight, Sirius would take any physical pain his mother could throw at him, Cruciatus or whatever else, over the pain he feels when he sees his baby brother hurt.

When Regulus showed up on the Potter’s doorstep, broken and bloody, pain gripped Sirius like a vice as he realized the horrors that Regulus faced on his own once Sirius left him behind. Despite that pain, there was also a part of him that felt giddy. How could he not? He got to have his little brother back. 

Things weren’t the same when Regulus came back to him, but they hadn’t been for a long time. Sirius wasn’t even sure what their relationship looked like, or what they would be if they were unchanged. Nonetheless, his love for Regulus has not changed. That’s what held them together, and that’s why Sirius wasn’t resentful or angry at Regulus for being withdrawn and not showing that love. It’s not like he’s been very good at it either, recently.

But tonight, it wasn’t just pain that gripped Sirius and it wasn’t complicated. It wasn’t only pain that put ice in Sirius’ veins. It was fear. Even throughout everything, his temporary estrangement from Regulus, he never thought he would really lose him. It never even occurred to Sirius that Regulus could venture somewhere that Sirius couldn’t follow– at least not somewhere as permanent as death. 

When Sirius received James’ Patronus, which begged him to come to the hospital wing because Regulus was hurt and there was so much blood, well, Sirius had never moved so fast in his life. He got up from where was sitting in the dormitory, comforting Moony, and just ran. He didn’t look back, he didn’t hesitate, he just ran. Nothing, aside from being dead in the ground, could have stopped him from getting to his little brother at that moment.

He’s never been so scared in his life, and that’s when he realized that fear is the greatest motivator. Fear demands obedience and order. That’s also when he understood why Regulus didn’t leave Grimmauld sooner.

Once Sirius finally got to the infirmary and saw his baby brother lying in a hospital bed, bleeding out, Sirius felt a piece of himself begin to die with him. He couldn’t breathe, couldn’t feel anything but pain and unadulterated fear. All he could think, looking at Regulus, was that’s my baby brother. That’s my baby brother. Please, not my baby brother. It looped through his head like a prayer, a plea for mercy to a God he knows doesn’t exist. Please don’t take my baby brother from me. He is me, I can’t be without him, don’t you understand? How did we get here? 

-

James Potter has lived a wonderful sixteen years. He grew up with loving parents and everything he ever wanted and needed. Nothing bad could touch him. He was James Fleamont Potter, kind and cocky and caring. He’s always been so bright that the darkness couldn’t even think of reaching him.

But even the greatest of heroes and the best of people reach an end to their hubris or luck. James first reaches his end when he’s sixteen. 

He’s running through the halls of the castle, concentrating on maintaining his incantation that’s keeping Regulus carefully afloat while simultaneously running as fast as he physically can. Even as they’re moving, blood steadily drips from Regulus’ floating body. It’s unlike anything James has ever seen before, and he was there to witness both Sirius and Regulus leave Grimmauld Place. It’s disturbing and terrifying and James doesn’t know how to handle it, not really. So he just runs. At the same time, he can’t help but think about the fact that he never told Regulus that he loved him back. Loves him back, because Regulus is still here and James still loves him. He’d love him even if he was gone. It can’t be too late for that truth to be told. 

When Madame Pomfrey sees them, she almost looks angry, like she doesn’t really think there’s an emergency worth having her out of bed at this hour. James likes Madame Pomfrey, she’s kind and pretends to be stern, but he knows from days spent in the infirmary after full moons that she’s softhearted. As they get closer, and she sees James and the blood on his face, as well as the blood soaking through Regulus’ robes and onto the ground, she pales, her face horrified.

“James,” She asks, somehow soft and hard at the same time, “What happened?”

“I-I don’t know,” James attempts to explain, feeling dazed. He runs his hand through his hair and feels the blood knot itself there, but it barely registers for him. None of this feels real, and he has no idea what happened. “I found him like this– I don’t know what happened or who did it. Just, please, Madame Pomfrey, I need you to heal him. Please.” James’ voice cracks, and he doesn’t think he’s ever sounded so desperate in his life. He never has been so desperate in his life.

She barely spares him a glance before nodding, taking Regulus from James and ushering the two of them inside. She lowers Regulus onto a cot and begins casting diagnostic spells immediately. James watches anxiously, waiting for her to do or say something. 

“Well?” He asks, fear and impatience overcoming any inclination toward politeness, “What is it? Can you fix him? Please, Madame Pomfrey, you need to fix him, not just for me or for Regulus, but for Sirius. You need to be able to fix him.”

“This is dark magic,” Madame Pomfrey mutters, shaking her head as she reads the diagnostic and continues casting spells, “Nothing taught at Hogwarts.” She turns to James, “I need you to fetch Professor Slughorn and Professor McGonagall, James. Ask McGonagall to summon the Headmaster, if he’s available.”

For some reason, it comforts him to have something to do to help, so James nods and turns quickly to leave. When he makes it through the door, he runs directly into Sirius.

“Sirius, you’re here,” James says, gripping him by the shoulders and searching his face. Lily’s comment from the party rings out in his head, He’s like Sirius, but humble. I mean, they look exactly the same, so that’s really what the difference is. James had never really noticed the resemblance before. Sirius and Regulus have always been so separate to him, but then, as he’s holding Sirius and hanging on for dear life, he sees it. Sees Regulus in Sirius. He squeezes Sirius harder like it’ll save Regulus somehow.

“James, where is he?” Sirius is flushed and breathing heavily like he just got done exercising, and his hair is wild. He reminds James of a frightened animal.

“Pomfrey has him,” James explains, “I-I have to go get Slughorn and McGonagall, and Dumbledore.”

“Dumbledore? How bad is it that Dumbledore needs to be summoned? On a night like this? With the attacks?”

“Sirius,” James says, his voice cracking, “It’s really bad. It’s- I’ve never seen anything like it. You need to go see him, I’ll be back.”

Sirius doesn’t even wait for James to finish his sentence or say goodbye, he’s just runs away, toward Regulus.

James takes off in a sprint as well, heading for Gryffindor Tower because it’s closer than the dungeons or Dumbledore’s study. When he reaches McGonagall’s quarters, he bangs on the door like his life depends on it. When she answers, looking affronted in her tartan nightgown, James almost breaks down again.

“Professor,” He says weakly, his voice trembling, “Something happened to Regulus Black. I think he’s going to die.”

-

When James arrives back at the hospital wing with McGonagall and Slughorn, the panic he feels has risen to his chest, resting there with the weight of the world. 

“How could this have happened, Poppy?” McGonagall asks, her voice hushed. Madame Pomfrey has controlled the bleeding from Regulus’ wounds and put him in magical stasis, so he’s lying in the bed with his eyes closed, looking peaceful despite the bandages wrapped around his body. Sirius is sitting on the floor of the hospital wing, his knees drawn to his chest, eyes hollow.

“Minerva,” Madame Pomfrey shakes her head, mournfully, “This is no average curse, this is a case of magical alchemy. Someone created this spell, and undeniably knew of the dangers of using it on another student.”

James watches as Professor McGonagall brings her hand to her mouth, clearly horrified by this revelation. Slughorn shifts uncomfortably, looking between the two women.

“It’s all rather terrible,” He agrees, his forehead wrinkling, “And I fear that what I’m about to say may make things worse, but as Regulus’ Head of House, I will have to notify the boy’s parents.”

“No.”

Sirius is glaring at Slughorn from his spot on the floor, shooting daggers with his eyes. James thinks they look darker, almost like they do when Sirius is in his animagus form. He doesn’t look like a frightened animal anymore. No, James thinks, he looks like a threatened animal, and he’s gearing up for an attack.

“I’m sorry Sirius, but–”

“Don’t you dare contact our parents,” Sirius hisses, rising quickly and approaching Slughorn, his wand fisted by his side. “I won’t let them come anywhere near him like this, not after what happened here and not after what they did to him.”

“He’s right,” James argues, the panic in his chest swiftly being replaced with anger at Slughorn for even suggesting something like that. “You can’t summon their parents. I know you know what happened this summer, you’re part of the reason Regulus and I are partners for prefect rounds. You knew he wouldn’t be safe and barely made a half-assed attempt to protect him. You don’t get to bring the people who got him into this situation in the first place to his bedside!”

“If you want to summon someone,” Sirius says, his voice dripping with malice, as he points his wand at Slughorn. “You’ll call for Effie and Fleamont. If you bring our parents here I’ll kill you, you pathetic old man. I’m not bluffing.”

“Sirius, that’s quite enough,” McGonagall begins, looking pained as she places a hand on Sirius’ shoulder.

“They’ve already been called, I'm afraid. Whether Regulus will see them or not is another story.”

Dumbledore comes striding into the infirmary, his velvet robes sweeping along with him. His face is grim.

“Headmaster–” James begins, his voice pleading. Dumbledore raises a hand to silence him.

“Your parents have been called as well, James. I am allowing them to arrive before Mr. and Mrs. Black, who will not be permitted onto school grounds until the morning. When Effie and Fleamont arrive, which should be within the hour, we will allow them to see Regulus. For now, I ask that you give myself and Regulus privacy,” Dumbledore turns to Madame Pomfrey, “Poppy, I need you to wake the boy.”

“Sir,” Madame Pomfrey exclaims, stricken, “The boy was on the brink of death– he’s in a magical coma to recover. He needs rest!”

“I’m afraid there’s no time for that now,” Dumbledore says, his voice sad. For some reason, James doesn’t believe that his sadness is genuine. Anger bubbles in his chest again and he tries to push it down. His parents trust Dumbledore, he tells himself. He trusts Dumbledore.

“How can you do this?” Sirius cries, throwing his hands up in the air. “How can you waltz in here and say you’ve called our parents, our fucking psychotic, evil parents, and then interrupt his recovery? Do you even care about him? His safety?”

“Of course I do, Sirius,” Dumbledore responds without hesitation, “It’s for this reason, and others which you may not yet understand, that things must happen this way.”

If there’s one thing James knows that Sirius doesn’t like, it’s being spoken to about things, important things, like he’s too naive to understand. His parents used to do the same thing, talking about family duty and commitment to dark magic and pureblood ideals. 

Sirius starts towards Dumbledore, his face contorted with rage, and James rushes forward, grabbing him by his robes and pulling him into himself. 

“Sirius,” James says into his ear, surprisingly calm, “We can’t fight this. We have to let this happen.”

Sirius continues to struggle in James’ arms for a few moments more before he stops moving entirely, collapsing into his arms with a broken sob. James holds him tightly, letting him know that he’s there. He'll always be there. He swallows the lump in his throat and screws his eyes shut, pressing Sirius into him.

-

When Regulus wakes up again, he genuinely feels like he died and someone forced him back to life. Later, he’ll learn that feeling isn’t too distant from the truth of what happened.

He doesn’t mean to, but a sound rips out of him, one he’s never heard himself make before. It’s high-pitched and clearly pained. It sounds like a wounded animal. It scares him, a little bit.

“Regulus, dear, you’re in the hospital wing. We had to wake you so that you could speak to the headmaster.”

The voice is not one that Regulus remembers being familiar with, and you might think he’d be more concerned about the fact that a stranger is telling him he’s in the hospital, but the first thing his mind acknowledges is the fact that Dumbledore wants to speak to him. That old fuck is always catching him at his lowest.

He can’t bring himself to speak yet, the pain in his chest and ribs far too intense for him to draw in the breath required to form words, so he attempts to nod. He isn’t sure if he’s successful.

“Fetch him a pain potion, Minerva,” The not-so-familiar voice says, “It’s on the shelf just above the desk in my study.” 

Regulus can hear shuffling, and then a cold glass vial is being pressed to his lips, a warm hand holding his chin in place as it’s poured in. The relief, although not complete, is almost immediate, and Regulus can breathe again without it hurting. He sighs.

“Open your eyes for me, dear. I’ve dimmed the lights, so it shouldn’t be too startling.”

Slowly, Regulus’ eyelids part, and his vision, although blurry, is still intact. Part of him thought it wouldn’t be.

He looks forward, finding Madame Pomfrey and Dumbledore standing beside him and at the foot of his bed, respectively.

“There you are,” Madame Pomfrey says, gently. “You gave us a right scare there.” She brushes a warm hand over Regulus’ forehead, pushing his hair back. It reminds him of Mrs. Potter. His eyes flood with tears without warning and he blinks them back quickly. He’s so tired of being in this position– weak and vulnerable and at the mercy of those around him. He hates himself for it.

“Poppy, I’d like to speak to Regulus alone. I will call for you if we need assistance.”

The headmaster is staring directly at him without a hint of fondness or pity or any normal fucking emotion in his face, Regulus realizes. He waits for that chill of fear to settle in him, but he only feels an acute sense of resentment, maybe even defiance. He does his best to set his jaw and raise his chin, but in his current state, he’s not sure how effective that is. At least he tries. Madame Pomfrey nods and leaves with what Regulus can only describe as reluctance, drawing the curtains as she goes.

Dumbledore moves forward quietly, sitting in the chair next to Regulus’ bed. He takes out his wand and wordlessly casts a spell, causing the sounds outside of Regulus’ section to go completely silent. He doesn’t want anyone to know what they’re speaking about, Regulus works out quickly. Nausea courses through him, and it takes everything in him not to vomit on himself. 

“Regulus,” Dumbledore greets him, his face blank, “I’m sorry to see you hurt again.”

Regulus doesn’t believe the headmaster and snaps at the man, “Oh, are you?” His voice drips with sarcasm, and he can’t bring himself to care that he’s being disrespectful.

“You doubt me, Regulus,” Dumbledore chuckles, devoid of humor, “I never want to see a student of mine in danger, I assure you. I’d like to begin this conversation by asking you who did this to you.”

Regulus doesn’t respond. He begins calculating instead. If he tells Dumbledore that it was Snape, there’s no way that Snape goes unpunished. He isn’t sure what that would mean– expulsion or something else. He also knows that if Snape doesn’t get expelled, his punishment would still be noticeable enough for people to start talking, especially with Regulus being in the hospital wing. Word travels fast at Hogwarts. This would mean war for Regulus and his friends against the rest of the Slytherins, who have been itching to find a reason to target Regulus more directly. He doesn’t even want to think about what Sirius and James would do if they knew it was Severus who cursed him. It wouldn’t even matter if Snape was expelled, he’d be dead before he could leave school grounds.

“I don’t know,” Regulus says, flatly.

Dumbledore regards him, and Regulus thinks that he knows he’s lying and is going to press him for further information, but he doesn’t. He just nods.

“Well then, Regulus, if it comes to you, please let me know,” Dumbledore responds, “As it stands, I have other things to discuss with you.” He pauses a moment, seemingly waiting for Regulus to respond. He doesn’t. He just raises a brow– it’s the Black in him.

“I don’t take you to be one for small talk, Regulus, so I’ll give you the information as I have it and we’ll move forward from there. How does that sound?”

It clears he expects an actual response from Regulus this time, so Regulus eventually dips his chin in response.

“You almost died tonight, are you aware of this?”

Regulus considers that. He did think he was dying when he was bleeding everywhere. He hasn’t really thought about it since he woke up, though. He didn’t die. He’s here.

“Yes, sir.”

“Whether purposefully or not, Regulus, you have unfortunately made yourself a target as divisions escalate. Is that something that you would like to change?”

Again, Regulus considers. He doesn’t want to agree to anything Dumbledore says, frankly, but he also can’t say no to that question. He’s not a fucking idiot.

“No, sir.”

“No?” Dumbledore questions, leaning forward, “No, you would not like that to change or no, I am not wrong?”

“No, you are not wrong,” Regulus says through gritted teeth, like admitting that hurts. It kind of does. He looks away from Dumbledore’s intense gaze.

“That’s what I thought,” Dumbledore hums, looking at him thoughtfully. “Euphemia and Fleamont Potter will be here soon, they’re rather eager to see you. Sirius is waiting as well. Once we’re done speaking, they’ll be allowed to visit you.”

Regulus can’t help but look up at the headmaster when he says that. He hadn’t really had time to think about visitors, but the fact that Mr. and Mrs. Potter are coming for him, and Sirius is still here. It makes something in his chest wriggle. Now that he’s thinking about it though, he wonders where James is.

“Ah, I almost forgot,” Dumbledore adds, waving a hand through the air lightly, “James is still waiting here as well. He’s the one who found you, you know. He seems to care deeply for you.”

Regulus’ eyes widen at Dumbledore’s statement. It feels– loaded, and a bit too coincidental with his thoughts. Regulus feels his face flush and he looks down quickly.

“This castle holds many secrets, Regulus, but I can’t say I know all of them.”

Regulus still doesn’t look up, and his heart is pounding in his chest. He doesn’t know where Dumbledore is going with this, but he knows that it could get him and James in serious trouble if he knows. This isn’t just about a silly secret relationship. Men being romantically involved, while not expressly forbidden by Wizarding law, is not well received. The ostracization and harassment that comes along with it, well, there’s a reason that only Regulus’ closest friends know about it all.

“I know that you attended Professor Slughorn’s Halloween party tonight. Therefore, I know that you are aware of the brutal attacks that took place this evening. Innocent Muggle and Wizard families alike were slaughtered. The attacks can be traced directly to Voldemort, or rather, his followers, The Death Eaters. The power of dark magical creatures was utilized as well,” Dumbledore pauses a moment. “What I am about to ask you, Regulus, is not something I wish to do. Rather, it’s something that I must do.”

The sense of dread that Regulus has felt for so long, as long as he can remember, has taken a new form with the processing of Dumbledore’s words. It’s no longer a sense, it’s taken physical form, grasping him in its cold hands and shaking him to his core. He truly can’t escape now, not that he ever really thought that he’d be able to. 

“Sir?” Regulus asks, working hard to keep his voice steady.

“The attack tonight was not the first, and it will not be the last,” Dumbledore informs him, his blue eyes piercing Reglus like a blade, “The Order of the Phoenix continues to struggle to maintain itself against the pervasive evils of Voldemort and his followers. We are at a loss of how to mend this, for we have no information pertaining to their activities and strategy.”

Regulus forces himself not to waver under the weight of Dumbledore’s gaze. He keeps his mouth in a firm line, listening carefully as Dumbledore speaks.

“You are an interesting person, Regulus. You are heir to the most ancient pureblood house in all of Britain, and your parents are some of the Dark Lord’s most loyal followers. Your rightful family home serves as one of the headquarters for the Death Eaters. Further, your mother and father anxiously await your return and acceptance of your birthright. In their eyes, this includes an allegiance to Voldemort himself,” He continues, “And yet, despite the fact that your life would be far easier in many ways if you went back to them, you have not. This leads me to believe that you don’t want the life they have planned for you, Regulus. Is that a fair assessment?”

“I don’t know,” Regulus says honestly. He really doesn’t know. It’s all so complicated. He wants his parents back, but he wants Sirius too. He wants James. He knows he can’t have them all.

Dumbledore nods, not breaking eye contact with Regulus, “ But, you do know that you care for Sirius and the Potters. You wouldn’t want to see them put in harm’s way?”

“Of course, I wouldn’t,” Regulus scoffs, his anger rising at the idiocy of Dumbledore’s questioning. He’d prefer if Dumbledore just came out with whatever it is that he plans to ask him, “I would never wish for anything bad to happen to any of them.”

“That, Regulus, is what I hoped you would say,” Dumbledore’s eyes seem to be twinkling now, his expression oddly smug, “I hate to ask this of you, but it is truly because I believe you are capable of the task. You’re a very capable young man and you’ve proven your resilience time and time again. There’s also no time left to wait, although I would have preferred to discuss this when you were not hurt. You are not weak despite your vulnerability. You can handle what I am about to ask.”

“What is it you plan to ask of me?” Regulus really wants Dumbledore to get to the point now. So much for avoiding small talk.

“I would like you to help me, Regulus. Help the war and The Order.”

“And how do you expect me to do that?” Regulus questions, incredulous. Does Dumbledore actually think he can contribute to the war or The Order? He's not even sixteen years old.

 “To do this, I need you to initiate steps of rekindling with your parents, and return home with them for the summer. Gain their trust and the trust of other Death Eaters. I need you to collect information, and bring it to me when term resumes.”

Regulus guesses that he should have that coming, but he didn't, not really. “It’s October,” He responds, weakly, “Summer isn’t until June, the war could be over by then.”

“Ah, Regulus, you are young and clearly still an optimist. That is important. However, the war is far from over, and it will not end before June.”

Regulus can feel his hands trembling as the anxiety of what he’s being asked settles over him. Ask is a strong word. Total bullshit, really. This isn’t a task that can be refused, Regulus is sure of it. Dumbledore has things to hold over his head even if he refuses. Things that could ruin him and his friends, ruin James and Sirius. Anyone he’s even come within an inch of caring for could be harmed by his refusal. This is how people in power operate. They will do anything it takes to reach their goals, Regulus has seen his own family do it for as long as he can remember.

“You will be given assistance, rest assured, Regulus. You will not be alone in this. I will also make sure that your parents are not able to call you home prior to the summer. You will return to the Potter’s for the Christmas holidays.”

“And what am I supposed to tell them,” Regulus chokes out, unable to control his voice from wavering, “When they ask why I’m returning home after what they did? How am I expected to explain that to them? To Sirius?”

“You will tell them that they are your parents, and you wish to mend your relationship. You will not inform them of the true nature of your intentions. That is imperative, Regulus, for the sake of your safety and theirs.”

“Do I have a say in any of this?” Regulus asks, although he already knows the answer.

Dumbledore smiles at him sadly, “I trust that you will make the right choice. Unfortunately, whether you choose to aid the Order in this way or not, you will be seeing your parents in the morning. They have legal entitlement to see you under the current circumstances. I cannot hold them off for longer than that.”

If Regulus thought things were bad before, he had no fucking idea how bad it could get. He just woke up, nearly dead, and is being asked to take on one of the most dangerous tasks possible. The cherry on top is that he has to face his parents after months of estrangement. A break, you ask? Regulus has never had one. He doesn’t think he’ll ever get one.

“I’m sorry to say our time is up, Regulus. I have other matters to attend to, but I hope to hear from you soon. I will summon you, once you are recovered, and we will discuss how to proceed from here.”

With that, Dumbledore stands, bowing slightly in Regulus’ direction, and leaves the room, the hospital curtains blown open in his wake.

Regulus leans back against his pillows, staring up at the ceiling. He closes his eyes and heaves a heavy sigh. How did he get here?

-

“You may see him now,” Dumbledore says, emerging from the curtains where Regulus is and looking at Sirius, “He’s rather shaken, still. I think it’s best if we start with you first.”

Sirius nods at Dumbledore, a surge of pride moving through him as the Headmaster chooses him, recognizing him as the person who should be entitled to seeing Regulus first. Despite this, he hesitates to go to his brother. 

“Go on, love,” Effie says, placing her hand on his shoulder, “Go see him.”

Sirius rushes forward, breaking into the section of the infirmary where Regulus is healing. He looks a lot better than he did before, really. There’s no blood on his robes or skin or the sheets, and he has some color to him again after multiple doses of blood replenishing potion. He’s lying in his cot, his eyes closed and his mouth shut tight. Others might think Regulus is asleep, but Sirius knows he isn’t because he knows how his little brother sleeps. He sleeps with his hands fisted above his head– like a baby, Sirius used to tease. Plus, Regulus’ mouth is always slightly parted when he sleeps, and his body is truly relaxed. Even standing feet away from him, Sirius can see the rigidness in his form.

“Reggie,” Sirius calls out, softly, doing his best not to startle him as he slowly approaches his brother, “I’m here.”

Regulus doesn’t open his eyes, but he does speak. Just one word and it nearly breaks Sirius’ heart in two, the way it holds more emotion than he recalls Regulus expressing in the last few years.

“Sirius.”

It’s just his name, but it carries a weight so heavy that Sirius didn’t know it was possible. There’s something in it that he can’t quite place– it’s desperate and pleading, but it’s also full of relief. If Sirius ever doubted it before, he can be sure of it now– Regulus needs him.

“I’m here, Reggie, I’m right here,” Sirius tells him, sitting at his brother’s bedside and taking Regulus’ hand in his own, “I’m not leaving, I promise.”

Regulus turns to look at him then, opening his eyes. 

Sirius was always jealous of Regulus’ eyes growing up. He inherited the silver-grey eyes that so many of the Blacks have, but they’re different from their father’s or Narcissa’s. They have small splotches of green within them, like a stormy sea. Sirius always thought they were so bloody cool. Right now though, he doesn’t envy Regulus’ eyes. They’re so full of pain and anguish that it immediately causes Sirius to feel the need to reach out for Regulus and hold him close. Protect him. Sirius always used to be able to protect Regulus, but he hasn’t been able to for a long time now, no matter how hard he tries. He keeps failing him, abandoning him.

“I’m sorry,” Regulus whispers, his voice rough, “I’m so sorry.”

Sirius doesn’t understand what Regulus is apologizing for and his heart twists in his chest, “You don’t need to say sorry, Reg. You never need to apologize to me, okay?”

“I do, though,” Regulus shakes his head, eyes wide, “I’m so sorry.”

Sirius feels like he’s missing something, the way Regulus is pleading with him. It honestly gives him the chills, but he doesn’t want to make Regulus feel any worse, so he decides not to argue anymore. Regulus has always struggled with feeling different- misunderstood, mostly. Sirius doesn’t want to make him feel like that right now. He’ll spare Regulus from even the smallest issues of pain at this point.

“It’s okay, Reggie. There’s nothing you could ever do that I wouldn’t forgive you for,” Sirius assures him, and he means it. He really thinks he means it.

Sirius also thought telling him that would bring Regulus some comfort, but his little brother just closes his eyes again, a single, silent tear rolling down his cheek.

“I’m going to protect you this time, Regulus,” Sirius murmurs, and he means it. This time he knows he means it.

-

About thirty minutes after Sirius goes in to see Regulus, his head pops out from between the curtains, beckoning James and his parents in.

James stands immediately from his spot next to his mum, untangling himself from her arms. His heart clenches at the mere prospect of seeing Regulus, knowing that he’s okay. He tries to exercise some restraint in his eagerness to get to Regulus, but quickly fails, his measured movements turning into quick strides within a few steps forward.

His parents are close behind him, almost equally as desperate to reach Regulus. It doesn't take long to get there, considering they only had about half of a room to cross. When James’ eyes land on Regulus, the wind is genuinely knocked out of him and the tension he didn’t even realize he was holding in his body melts away.

“Oh,” James breathes, “You’re okay.”

Regulus, as exhausted as he looks, manages a small smile, and James has never seen something so stunning in his life, genuinely. He’s never been so grateful to see someone in his life.

“I’m okay, James,” He confirms, quietly.

Effie speaks next, walking towards Regulus carefully, “Sweetheart, we’re so glad to see you awake. When we heard the news–” Her voice cracks, and Regulus looks away from her, fiddling with his hands. James can see a flush on his cheeks. “When we heard the news we were very worried, but we’re so happy to be with you now, Regulus.”

“We’re here for you, Regulus,” Monty adds from beside Effie, placing a hand on James’ shoulder, and then Sirius’, “All of us, always.”

James’ affection for Regulus is always strong, but seeing the way he bashfully avoids everyone’s eyes, his face maroon, James can hardly contain it. All he wants to do is wrap Regulus up in his arms and never let him go, but he can’t. Not right now at least, not around the others. Instead, he joins Sirius, who’s now sitting in the chair by Regulus’ bed, and perches himself on the arm of it.

The five of them speak quietly as time passes, Regulus still not talking much as Effie fusses over him. James doesn’t blame him for being quiet, he doesn't need him to talk right now. James is really just grateful to be around him and his family after everything.

Regulus also keeps stealing glances at James when he thinks he isn’t looking, which is delightful because it makes James smile dopily and causes that lovely pink flush to return to Regulus’ cheeks when he’s caught.

About the fifth time after this exchange happens, Regulus allows James a small, close-lipped smile as he holds his gaze. James bites the inside of his cheek to keep his grin from spreading too wide, but it’s useless. He’s completely and utterly useless around Regulus and he loves it. When James does look away, he turns to see his mum watching the two of them, a slight crinkle between her brows, but a genuine smile on her face. James’ face burns, but he stares back at her. Her smile deepens.

“We were only permitted an hour on school grounds,” Monty announces suddenly, pushing his glasses back up on his nose, “I’m sorry to say we’ll have to get going.”

“Oh, Monty,” Effie clicks her tongue regretfully, “I suppose you’re right.”

James and Sirius exchange long goodbyes with his mum and dad and Regulus thanks them for coming. He really appreciates it, he tells them, and allows both Effie and Monty to place a kiss on his head. James’ heart swells to an unreasonable size. 

With that, Effie and Fleamont are off to return to Potter Cottage, using the Floo in Madame Pomfrey’s study. 

Once the green flames settle, Madame Pomfrey walks Sirius and James back into Regulus’ section of the hospital wing. “Boys, I’m sorry to do this, but Regulus really does need his rest,” Pomfrey tells them, gently, “Why don’t you come back tomorrow? It’s a Saturday, so you can spend the whole day with him.”

James wants to argue, but he doesn’t. He already knows what he’s going to do, and it’s better if Sirius doesn’t have any sneaking suspicions or attempts to steal his idea.

“Okay, Poppy,” James agrees, smiling when she narrows her eyes at him for using her first name.

Sirius sighs beside him but nods. He turns to Regulus, “We’ll be back first thing tomorrow, okay, Reg?”

“No, don’t come in the morning,” Regulus protests, his eyes glued to Sirius, “That’s when mum and dad are coming and I- I just think it’ll be better if I see them alone. I don’t want there to be any more trouble than absolutely necessary, and if they see either of you…”

“We’ll wait, Reg,” Sirius assures him, “Don’t worry. We’ll be here as soon as they’re gone, though. You can’t get rid of us that easily.”

Regulus rolls his eyes which comforts James, oddly enough. He’s being himself, which is good. He’s okay. 

Regulus opens his mouth and closes it, clearly hesitating, “Can one of you tell my friends what happened? They’ll worry if they don’t hear something tomorrow, seeing as I’m not in the dormitory,” Regulus glances between the two of them like they might refuse his request, “Try not to say anything too graphic or Pandora will lose it.”

“Of course, we can,” James smiles, “I’ll find Malfoy or Crouch at breakfast tomorrow, and I’ll be extra gentle.”

“Thank you, James,” Regulus mutters, his tone genuine. 

Sirius and James give their goodbyes to Regulus and walk back to Gryffindor Tower, a heavy silence resting between the two of them.

-

Once Sirius and James are back in the dormitory and have shaken Peter and Remus off, telling them they’ll debrief them in the morning, James lies in his bed. He waits a while, until he hears the sound of Sirius’ even breathing, indicating that he’s fully asleep, and takes out a journal and quill. He scribbles something in it before carefully ripping and folding the paper, slipping it into his pocket. Quietly, he gets out of bed, retrieving his invisibility cloak from under his bed, and leaves the dormitory.

When James arrives at the infirmary, he hopes desperately that Regulus is still awake. He thinks he will be. He knows that James has the cloak, and if he thinks he'll really wait to come until after Walburga and Orion arrive– then, well, he doesn’t really know James.

“Regulus,” James whispers into the darkness, pushing through the curtains as he casts muffliato over his shoulder.

Regulus is very much awake, and evidently waiting for him. He’s sitting up as much as he can with his injuries, propped against the pillows, and there’s a candle burning on his bedside table.

“James,” He whispers back, “You’re insane, coming here.”

“Did you honestly think I could wait until tomorrow? If you did, you’re the insane one.”

Regulus scowls, his face glowing in the warm candlelight, but when James grins at him, the corners of his mouth twitch.

“Oh, c’mon, Reg. Don’t fight a smile right now, it’s the least you can do for me after tonight. I deserve to be graced with the rare and elusive smile of Regulus Black.”

Regulus attempts to maintain the expression, but when James wiggles his eyebrows at him he breaks, a smile spreads across his face. He groans, knocking his head back against his pillow, scowling again. “You’re insane and ridiculous.”

“Yeah, but you love it.” James purposefully doesn’t say that Regulus loves him. No, he’s got a plan for that.

Regulus shakes his head at him but doesn’t really deny it. He wouldn’t, James doesn’t think.

“Can I lay with you?” James asks, unsure of how fragile Regulus is right now. 

“Yes, just– be a bit careful. The wounds are healing, but it still hurts.”

James gets into the cot with Regulus, arranging himself very carefully, draping his leg over Reg’s.

“Is this good?” He whispers, his face very close to Regulus’

“Perfect,” Regulus sighs, resting his forehead against James’.

James closes his eyes, savoring the feeling of Regulus’ warm skin against his own. He wasn’t sure if he was going to be able to experience this again when he found Reg on the stairs on his way to the Come-and-Go Room.

“I was so scared,” James admits, his throat tight.

Regulus bites his lip, drawing his eyebrows together, “I know. I’m so sorry, James.”

“Don’t apologize, Reg, there’s nothing for you to apologize for. I just had to say it– I was scared, but it’s okay now because you’re okay. All that matters is that you’re okay.”

Regulus opens his mouth to speak, likely about to offer another apology or rebuttable, but James isn’t having it. Instead, he cuts Regulus off, pressing their lips together.

The kiss is slow and gentle, but it’s deep. James is desperate to feel and taste Regulus and the fact that he’s still here, warm and very much alive. So that’s what he does, kissing Regulus as if both their lives depend on it. Like if he can get close enough to Regulus, become as intertwined as possible with him, they’ll always be okay. Like this kiss can be enough to protect them from the horrors of the world around them.

As it continues, as perfect and world-stopping as every kiss between Regulus and James is, he finds himself believing that it might be true- it can protect them. What they share– it transcends everything else and it’s the most precious thing to James in that moment. He’ll do anything to keep it that way.

They break apart, helpless smiles and heavy breathing passing between them. Regulus can't really move because of his bandages and the way he's propped up, so James burrows into him and holds him gently. They lay like that for a long time, not saying anything. James doesn't think they need to.

Eventually, Regulus falls asleep and James shuffles out of the cot, pressing a kiss to his forehead and slipping the folded piece of paper into his slightly closed fist.

"Goodnight, Reg," James whispers, placing one last kiss on his temple.