There are Lessons to be Learned, Consequences for all the Stupid Things I Say
“Mom! Dad!”
“Mom!”
“James? Why are you yelling? What’s happening- Oh Merlin!”
“Fleamont! Get James out of here!”
“Hold on, dear. Just a little longer.”
“Don’t let them in, Fleamont! They don’t need to see this.”
“Sirius?”
“Reggie, Reggie please stay alive.”
“I’m so sorry, please, please just hold on.”
“I can’t lose you, I love you.”
I love you.
I love you.
I love you.
When Regulus Black still lived at Grimmauld Place with his brother, they used to play games. Meaning less little things that brought them joy. The games always had to be kept quiet though, lest their father hear them from his study. Their mother always chided them with strong words and, when they went too far out of line, physical punishments were implemented. Their fathers study, a big room with hundreds of books on shelves from the floor to the ceiling and a great mahogany desk facing away from the Gothic style window, was a room the children were to be kept away from. Their father worked there after all, he needed quiet when he worked. Occasionally, he’d have guests, so Regulus and Sirius had to be particularly careful not to make a ruckus and stay in their rooms so as to uphold the image of the Black family.
The games the Black brothers played were never loud, and always initiated by Sirius. Some important people are coming over today, so let’s play a game! Who can stay silent for longer gets to sleep in the others’ bed. Regulus always excelled at the games. Winning most days, for he never had much he particularly wanted to say, and when he did, Sirius would take him to his room and they’d talk there. Their rooms always were free of the quiet games. Regulus once insisted that that was cheating, but Sirius countered with We make the rules, Reggie! And so he let it go and accepted whatever rules his brother made, because he trusted him explicitly. The exception to the game was when they were directly asked a question. The first time Regulus was asked a question while playing their game, he did not want to answer lest he lose, but after his mother slapped him across the face and he let out a squeak then promptly started crying, he answered her for by that point he had already lost.
Another game they often played was “Avoid Everyone”, as Sirius so eloquently called it. It was exactly as the name suggested, and the game was always played when their parents were in bad moods where one wrong move from Regulus or Sirius would send them off. Regulus noticed the pattern pretty quickly and every time Sirius would creep into his room, barely making a sound, saying they were going to play “Avoid Everyone” that day, he knew it was a bad day for their parents and thus did not complain about having to sneak around Grimmauld Place.
The older Regulus got, the more he realized that their games were never for enjoyment. They were a means to an end. A way for Sirius to keep him away from the punishments. Sirius always talked during the quiet game, always taking the reins and flowing through conversations, answering questions Regulus did not want to answer or did not know the answer to. He wondered when Sirius realized the importance of staying quiet, these days he never seemed to be able to shut up, even when it mattered the most, always talking back to their mother. Never their father thought, he was never around enough for Sirius to be able to do that, and when he was he simply called their mother over to sort Sirius out, then left for his study.
Regulus has never really felt much for his father. Of course he loved him. Children are supposed to love their fathers, and so he did. Always doing what was expected of him. Stay quiet, answer questions when asked. Children are to be seen, not heard, his father once told him when he was much younger. At the time he did not understand what his father meant, but with time he realized just how important it was. He was supposed to be there, be seen as a member of the Black family, always in photos, always at galas, always there lingering in the background. Never speaking, unless spoken to. And that suited him just fine, he never wanted to speak anyways. Speaking meant the chances of punishment skyrocketed, and Regulus did not like punishments. They always hurt, and Regulus is not a fan of pain, unlike Sirius, who took every opportunity he could to take the blame, acted out more and more to take their mothers eyes off of Regulus.
And it worked surprisingly well for a long time, until Sirius went to Hogwarts and the punishments he was supposed to be receiving for acting out fell onto Regulus. He was never bitter about that, it was just how things were and he had to adapt, had to make sure that he behaved so maybe their mother would see that he really was trying his hardest to keep her satisfied and lessen the punishments. And she did, she never did anything close to his last punishment, never used the Unforgivables on him unless he really, really messed up, and as he rarely did that the curses were rarely used. That did not help thought. He tried so hard to not be a disappointment, tried so hard to do everything he could to survive, and it simply did not matter. Regulus’ life was not his own, as he has come to realize. He should have had no part in the last punishment, it had nothing to do with him and yet that did not matter.
It did not matter that he tried, that he was the perfect son his mother could have asked for; that he did everything he was supposed to; been friends with the correct people; did not talk to Sirius unless they were home- he could not be seen with the family disappointment after all, the Black reputation was at stake and he’d be damned if he did anything to further fuel his mothers rage. None of it mattered. None of it. He still ended up on the Potter’s floor, soaked in his own blood, barely breathing, bruised to hell and back with muscles that spasmed uncontrollably and painfully, as if they were cramping again all at once.
He heard voices again, though he was more coherent than last time anybody spoke. Opening his eyes was out of the question as the blinding headache made itself known again. Regulus was not entirely sure he didn’t hit his head while falling down from the fireplace. There was a bloody step he did not see because, well, he couldn't very well see with his eyes closed, and so he tripped, and did not have the strength to move even an inch as he heard voices above him. The last thing he could remember was, funnily enough, the one thing he wanted his brother to say before he gave up. I love you.
Well now he couldn’t give up, could he? That would have been unfair to Sirius, and even though existence isn’t fair, Regulus did not want to be a part of that ugly concept in Sirius’ life, and so he fought. He tried to stay awake but the blood loss won, and he fell unconscious- floating in the darkness with nothing. Being everything and yet nothing at once, feeling it all but the pain was just not that pressing anymore. A blanket of security, if he died right then, he wouldn’t even have to worry about anything. He’d simply drift away and nothing would hurt him anymore. Not his mothers’ cruelty, or his fathers’ indifference, not even Sirius’ abandonment. Nothing would have a meaning, and it was really fucking nice to not worry again, even if it felt like a few short moments.
Before he realized what was happening, he felt someone grip his arm and pain shot right into his heart. He cried out, flailing his arm at whoever tried to touch it and hit something- no, someone.
“Shit, Effie! He’s awake!” And then softer, as if Regulus was about to break, his brother asked, "Reggie?"
Hearing Sirius' voice was nice- very, very nice- and so with a warm feeling in his chest and a hand in his, Regulus let himself fall into darkness again, where he will not have to think about what happens next.