The Spark in Your Eyes, The Look on Your Face
Thank fuck, is the first thing Sirius thought of when he saw his brother flinch away from his touch, At least he’s not dead. The relief that flooded him made him stagger, put down his head on the bed beside his brothers’ arm, and breathe in as deeply as his lungs let him. His eyes were tired, and his body felt the last bits of adrenaline that kept him up from the moment he saw his brothers’ bloodied body on the floor leaving him in less than a blink of an eye. The next moment however was completely overcome with the guilt that's been spewing in the front of his mind for how could he just leave his own brother in that house like that? House, it’s never been much of a home. Even after everything that’s happened he still felt the need to point that detail out in his own mind- even when no one could hear it; no one would ever know if he called it their home for a split second, and yet he felt the need to validate his own choices by pointing out that no, it’s never been a home. Always a house. Somewhere they went to for a roof over their heads, somewhere they would be relatively regularly fed, somewhere they could sleep- never peacefully and without care, but sleep nonetheless.
Somewhere they had each other. After all, they never really were in that house much alone without the other, except for Sirius’ first year at Hogwarts, which was brutal for Sirius. He couldn’t even imagine how terrified Reggie must have been to live there for months without Sirius beside him to protect him. Without Sirius to tell him when the games had to start, when it was safe to leave their rooms, when they couldn’t- under no circumstances, show their faces to their father after his important business meetings, which always put their father in a sour mood for days on end.
I’m a terrible brother, I should have never left. Even after the threats Walburga made, he never could have imagined she’d do this. Scrapes, bruises, slaps and occasional cures were always the norm in the Ancient and Noble House of Black, but never to this extent. Never had he seen a member of his family that hurt before, never had he seen anyone that hurt before, and the fact that it was his own brother who got the short end of the stick solidified the hatred burning in his mind for his family. How could anyone sane do this? They’re a load of fucking psychopaths, the disgust he felt towards Walburga and Orion was perhaps the most intense emotion he’s even felt, it might’ve even beat his love for Reggie, but did the hatred not stem from the love he felt towards the only person alive who shared his blood? Did that not automatically make it love? Was there any difference between loving someone so greatly and despising others because they hurt the one you love so much? If love was the root for the hate, did that not mean the love one felt was doubled? Sirius knew he’d go to any lengths to protect Regulus, even if he had to stand before Walburga and spit his hatred in her face. He’d do it without a second thought now, especially after learning the lengths Walburga would go to in order to hurt people, hurt Reggie. He could never let that happen again.
His mind felt fuzzy, the absolute terror he felt upon seeing Reggie sprawled on the library floor, and the following anger towards the Blacks, was dissipating the longer he held his brothers’ hand in his, the longer he saw the gentle up and down of his chest- now clothed in a fresh set of pajamas (who they belonged to, he had no idea), the longer he could breathe without smelling blood that not hours ago was pouring out of what seemed like every pore in his brothers’ body.
“Sirius?” He heard someone behind, yet he could not place the voice. It was gentle and smooth and warm, and he felt like his body was covered in a blanket.
“Sirius, honey, you have to sleep.” He knew who the voice belonged to, he knew he should- he felt the exhaustion deep in his bones, as if it was ripping his flesh apart with black claws and dark spells. Do I really? I’d much rather stay here. He did not know whether the words made it past his mind and out of his mouth, but the warm hand in his hair made the thought disappear.
“Regulus will be fine, dear. I’ve healed him to the best of my ability, cleaned him up and changed his clothes so when he wakes up he’ll be comfortable. There is nothing you can do right now.” She said, though the words did not make sense to him, “He woke up though!”, he desperately said, not anticipating the volume of his words to be that loud, and winced a bit, afraid he woke up the whole house.
“He woke up…” He tried again, but this time the words were barely above a whisper. Unsure of whether Effie heard him or not, he turned his face from the duvet towards her, desperately seeking for something in her eyes. Anything. And whatever he was searching for, he must’ve found, because he relaxed again. Sirius let his head hang down, chin to collarbone, and meekly asked “You will wake me up, though? Right? When he wakes up again, will you let me know?”
Effie smiled at him, it was not one of the smiles that wrinkled her eyes and showed her teeth and made the apples of her cheeks so prominent, the smile that was so similar to James’ from the emotions, if not from the look of it. No, this one was gentle and sad, her eyes not as wrinkled as her smile usually made them, teeth hidden behind her lips, her cheeks barely lifting up- but the comfort of the smile was all the same.
“Of course dear, but there is no need for you to be awake the whole night. The brief flashes of consciousness will keep coming throughout the night, though I will wake you up first thing when Regulus is awake for more than a minute and is able to hold a decent conversation without losing consciousness again. We don’t want to overwork him right now.” She said as gently as could. On one hand, he thought he should be pissed. Why am I not allowed to see my own brother when he was almost dead a few hours ago?? On the other hand, the thought that He’s safe now. We’re both safe now, we can rest for a bit. was at the forefront of his mind, and the anger that he could not keep his brother company when he was vulnerable in a new place was overshadowed once again by the sheer mental exhaustion of the day.
Who knew that running away from your house, and then finding your almost dead brother bleeding out on the floor of your new home could be this mentally draining? He wanted to laugh at the thought, Who knew, but even in the headspace he was in, the laughter never bubbled up past a soft exhale. Maybe later he could laugh about it with Reggie if he woke up. When. When he woke up. Because he will wake up. They’ve been through too much for it to just end here.
So, without hurry, he stood up, looked at his brother again, turned and left through the opened door. The hallways at the Potter Manor were so similar and yet so different to where he grew up. Dark wood trim, dark ornate wallpaper that stretched over the curved ceiling. A golden and gleaming chandelier that hung high on the ceiling with real candles- not the ones at Hogwarts, no, these were real and not just a simple illusion. Everything at the Potter Manor was real. There was no doubt about that.
His legs felt like lead, trudging through the hallway to his room where his bed was ready. The yellow blanket was brought upstairs and spread out on top of the duvet. Sirius couldn't exactly remember all that had happened since finding Regulus on the Potters library floor, but sometime between then and now someone must have brought the blanket upstairs. The thought of bringing it back downstairs to lay over his brother went through his mind, but before he could act on it, the door opened and Remus walked in.
He stayed by the door for a few seconds, just looking, seemingly drinking in every detail of Sirius he could see, as if he had to memorize him before he disappeared. It eerily reminded him of doing just that to his brother's unmoving body, soaked in a mixture of blood and floo powder, clothes that even Kreacher would've had trouble washing with all the crimson stains.
“Don't look at me like that, it makes me nervous.” He said, and forced a smile that looked more like a grimace than anything else. Remus looked him in the eyes then and slowly walked up to him. The closer he got, the more nervous Sirius felt. “What? What is it?” His voice was trembling, and he felt his eyes burn again. It was almost a miracle that he could cry at that point, after all the emotions he went through that day.
Remus gently took his hand, and let the other graze his cheek. He looked Sirius in the eyes, his own shining as well with unshed tears. They stood so close, Sirius could feel the heat of his body, could smell the soap he used for years. Some artificial smell that he could never pinpoint what exactly it was meant to smell like, yet the second it hit him he knew who it belonged to. Always knew who was walking up to him by smell alone, didn't even have to look to know, the memories surrounding that smell were enough to let him know.
“You know that, I mean- I-” Remus said, his voice was hard to make out even in the silence the room was buried in. His brows were furrowed and he looked down, as if ashamed of what he wanted to say. His breath deepened, eyes closed for a few seconds, his hand desperately holding onto Sirius’s. “I love you, you know?” His breath rushed out all in one second, his next inhale was slow and ragged. He gently bit his lip, letting it go after a few seconds. Sirius's attention was brought to Remus's lips. they were bleeding, as if he had been biting through them in worry for hours. “Everything that she said… It's- I hope you know that it's not true. Nothing. None of it. She had no right to do that to- She's…” Remus paused, his eyes were shimmering.
Billions of stars packed into one set of eyes, so beautiful, as if the artist who made them was a god, for only a god could achieve such perfection in one being. Or maybe, Remus was more than that, perhaps he was the universe, a god of sorts, making a pit stop on earth to experience what so few humans could. Genuine beauty, love. Maybe that is what Remus brings into his life? He does not know how much I love him. Sirius though. But maybe he does? Maybe he loves Sirius just as much? Am I worthy of that kind of love? My own flesh and blood refused to love me, how can anyone else, when even they won't?
“She won't get him back, you know? I'm sure Euphemia sent the letters to the Ministry about what happened, about how you showed up here with bruises and scratches, and how Reggie looked when he got here, and I guess I just- I just need you to know that no matter what, I will be here when you need me to be.” By the end Remus was looking into his eyes, so full of love that his previous thoughts of whether or not he deserved that love were flung out of his mind. Who cares if he deserves it? He's got it, he might as well make it count.
Sirius closed his eyes then, Remus kept his hand holding onto the back of his neck, it was grounding, keeping him from spinning out of his mind and leaving to somewhere far away where his mother could not get him. He looked up at Remus, his beautiful eyes which held the universe so full of something shining down at him. Sirius was gathered into his arms, his own crossed by his chest letting Remus fully engulf him in his body. The urge to carve out a space for himself in Remus' chest was strong, to be as close to his beating heart as humanly possible, to feel the warmth battle with the coldness etched into his very bones like two knights.
One full of ice with peeling skin, eyes as dead as the ground his mighty, rotten horse steps on, with a sword of ice so sharp it could cut through the fire so carefully etched in the world as if it was air; and the other, a warm, sun-kissed warrior, with brown eyes and pale scars running up and down his body, a sword of molten lava held in his hands, drops of it falling onto the ground and lighting up the dead fields the coldness left behind.
And so, Sirius is held there, by the knight with scars and beautiful brown eyes, protected from the coldness lurking outside the windows. Arms around his body, keeping him warm and comfortable.