reach out
All my life I tried so hard
To separate myself from all
That is and was and will be torn apart
You were running unafraid
I know you, but I've changed my way
You know I take it all to heart
(“Reach Out” by Sufjan Stevens)
22:58. Friday.
The moon was slowly rising above the tree line from the view of James Potter’s window, illuminated by the surrounding stars. James often slept with an open window because he could not fall asleep during the summer if his room was stuffy. One of the possible downsides of this, though, was that one could hear every single noise that the outside made at night—tree branches knocking against each other from the breeze, the ocean, the buzzing sounds of frogs and other insects outside, and the soft steps of something walking up the pavement of the driveway to the Potter’s house.
After James put his glasses on, he squinted out the window and into the dark, but he could not quite make out the shape of what he was supposed to be seeing. He figured it was some critter that had gotten lost or had run away from home. James quickly decided he would be the one to go downstairs and tell whatever was at the door to go home or see if they should be dropped off at a nearby address.
James walked down the stairs as quietly as possible, trying not to wake his parents or his best friend, Sirius, who was sleeping in the bedroom next to his. He headed towards the front door whenever he heard it ring.
Whatever creature had made its way towards the Potter house was smarter than James might have given credit for.
James opened the door, not to any stray animal he had misconceived to think was on his front porch, but to a crying mess that closely resembled the person who lived in the bedroom beside him. James’s eyes went wide, as he took in the sight before him.
Regulus Black was standing there with tears streaming down her face, barely-below-shoulder-length hair a tangled mess, and pale cheeks flushed pink.
“Regulus?” James asked. Regulus and James had never really talked at school. The most interaction they had ever done was whenever Regulus had stared him down in an attempt to talk to Sirius. But that was it. They never exchanged ‘hellos’ in the hallway, never exchanged any more lingering looks. Regulus hadn’t even spared him a glance when they were on the Quidditch pitch together—Regulus was the seeker for the Slytherin team, while James was a chaser—so it came as a surprise that Regulus would show up at his house in the middle of the night in a vulnerable state.
“Holy shit, are you okay?”
Regulus couldn’t speak.
And maybe she didn’t need to.
James knew from the tear-streaked look on her face, that she had needed a place to escape to. He had seen that same look on her brother’s face a couple of years ago whenever they had done practically the same thing—come to the Potters’ door in the middle of the night over Christmas holiday in the middle of their sixth year. Sirius had too come to the Potter’s house, crying and shaking, begging if they could stay with him for the night. And that one night turned into a year and a half. James’s parents thought of Sirius as their second son, and they could not be happier that Sirius could be unapologetically themselves now, declaring to the world that they are not a force to be reckoned with. Sirius had needed safety and someone to love and accept them, and James and the Potters had practically adopted them into the family.
Now, a year and a half later, Regulus also needed a save haven. And what kind of person would James be if he didn’t let her stay with him? He knew deep down that under the surface of precisely-placed pretentiousness she seemed to give off at a first glance, Regulus was like her brother. She couldn’t live in that family anymore. She needed out. She needed a new place to be from.
“You need a place to stay, don’t you?”
Regulus nodded.
“I’m going to go talk to my parents about it, okay? I know they’re going to say yes, but I just want to let them know. Come inside,” James assured her as he made room for her to walk past him through the doorway. James shut the door behind them.
The house looked the exact opposite of what Regulus was used to. Number 12 Grimmauld Place was always dark, even in daylight, as every wall and door and piece of furniture was, as the sharer of the family name, black. Time seemed to stand still whenever one walked through the halls of Grimmauld Place. Everything was decorated in Victorian era decoration. The most modern thing in the house would have to have been the surprising fact that they had actual plumbing.
The Potters’ house, however, was colorful and looked lived-in. The walls were a vibrant, jade green with darker accents around the frames of the doors, which were a creamy white. The floor was covered in dark rust coloured tile. There were numerous paintings on the walls, ones of seaside landscapes and mountains and trees that bore lemons and peaches.
It was all very strange and jarring and beautiful to Regulus. The only artworks in the Black house were giant portraits of family members, dawn with sharp angles and absurd hyperrealism, almost similar to what one would find in an Oscar Wilde novel, and a tapestry of the family tree.
James led Regulus down the short hallway and to the living room, where he turned on a lamp filled with seashells and sand and a fake starfish that had been enchanted to wave to Regulus. Regulus would have found it funny if she wasn’t in such a dazed and vulnerable state. James motioned to the light green couch, and Regulus obliged, sitting near the edge, curled into herself.
“Wait here, okay? I’m just going to explain everything to my parents. I’ll be back soon, alright?”
James’s voice was a haze. Regulus seemed to have nodded though because James gave a thumbs up and left the room.
Regulus’s head was spinning.
For the first time, things in Regulus’s life were unpredictable. Usually everything was so meticulously calculated, ice cold, carefully planned out, but now things seemed to melt in a giant puddle of collected chaos you’d only find at just an hour before midnight in the Potter house.
Someone else was in the room. Regulus looked up from her hands to see her brother standing in the doorway of the living room.
Sirius.
“What…the fuck?” Sirius’s eyes were warm and menacing to Regulus. They wore their anger on their sleeve, baring it to anything that didn’t please them. Regulus knew her brother’s anger like the back of her hand. Sirius didn’t wait for an answer from Regulus. They turned away and went back upstairs, their loud footsteps echoing through the house.
Regulus folded forward, face in hands, and began to cry again. Silent sobs filling the quiet room while no one was around to either scold her for showing human emotion.
Memories flooded into Regulus’s head, showing a film-like replay of the scene that had taken place before she escaped.
The sharp pain of electricity shocks flowing through her. Breathing hard through her mouth. Sweat dripping down from her face. The sound of anguished screaming, pleading for the sweet relief of her mother’s grace. Genuine fear that she would lose her life tonight. And the eyes of her mother, Walburga Black, with a glaring scowl on her face, casting that spell over and over and over until Regulus had nearly passed out.
That was the push Regulus had needed in order to get out of there.
A couple minutes had passed since James had left the room to talk to his parents. They had said yes, of course, because Fleamont and Euphemia were always willing to take in anyone who needed shelter, and James explained that Regulus and Sirius were siblings, and this would basically be almost a repeat of that one Christmas when Sirius came to live with them.
James went back into the living room to tell Regulus that she could stay for however long she needed to and to show where her room would be for the time.
“Hey, Regulus, I—oh.” By the time James had made his way back into the living room, Regulus was curled up on the corner of the couch, head in hands, and fast asleep, shoulders slowly rising and falling. James adjusted his glasses up his nose, taking the folded up blanket that his friend and neighbor Peter had crocheted and draped it over Regulus, making sure he didn’t wake the other up as he tucked it around.
“Sleep easy, okay?” James said in a hushed voice.
And with that, he turned the seashell lamp off and went back upstairs to his bedroom.