just a jigsaw
“I've changed every part of me
Until the puzzle pieces aren't me at all
I look in the mirror, now I'm just a jigsaw
You take every part of me, all of the things you need
Then the rest, you discard
I look in the mirror, now I'm just a jigsaw”
Regulus is in James Potter’s arms.
No wait, actually, Regulus Black is bleeding out in James Potter’s arms.
How fucking pathetic.
But he’s so cold and James is so warm and oh, he could just fall asleep.
He might actually just
fall
asleep.
“Oh my god he’s waking up!”
“Stop prodding him Pads you’ll reopen a stitch.”
“He’s my brother I can prod him however I like.”
“Not now, not while he’s in this state.”
“Shut up,” comes an awfully familiar voice that Regulus takes a moment to realise is his own. With much unwanted effort, he peels his eyes open, greeted quite rudely by a blinding white light. The brightness of it all made him shut his eyes again, squeezing it tightly in an attempt to push away all of the rays that seem to be giving him a migraine almost immediately. But now the light has snuck its way below his eyelids, making even the darkness of closing his eyes seem stupidly white.
“Light,” he grunts.
“Oh, right, yes, sorry. Let me get it.”
That voice. That nice, nice voice. Who’s-
“James, can I prod him now?”
Ah right, James Perfect Potter who can do no wrong.
“No Pads, wait until the darkness settles back in at least.”
Regulus breathes a sigh of deep relief when the light happily disappears from his eyes along with the up-and-coming migraine. Slowly, he tries again, peeking one eye open first before the other.
He is greeted by the ever so lovely sight of his brother and his best friend. How fucking fantastic. Why again?
He sees a happy glint in Sirius’ eyes – never a good sign, followed by a concerned pull of eyebrows by James.
“Has the darkness settled in?” Sirius asks eagerly. Regulus narrows his eyes at him which he apparently takes as a yes, immediately prodding him in his sides gently. “Wake up, wake up, wake up,” he chants ridiculously.
James rolls his eyes, a smile gracing his face despite the frown in his brows, before they move to look at Regulus.
Brown eyes. Beautiful brown eyes that look directly at Regulus, stunning him into a state of silence where he has an odd desire to climb into those exact eyes and drown, drown, drown.
He must have a really bad concussion.
“Do you remember why you’re here, Regulus?” James asks, his voice coming out pleasant and soft and so, so, so stupidly annoying.
“Reg?” Sirius says, the prodding stopping even though his finger is still dug deep into Regulus’ side. It tickles a bit.
Regulus slaps away the finger that is touching him, sitting up as fast as he can without toppling over immediately to look around, seeing foreign objects scattered in an estranged place. Two exceedingly soft arm chairs sit opposite him, brown and warm toned. An old-fashioned red carpet graces the floor, sat on by a low coffee table that is littered with books, board-games, and tea cups. The sofa that Regulus resides on is wide and extremely comfortable, spreading out into a loveseat on the left side. A swing chair hangs from the ceiling looking precariously close to falling but stacked with pillows and blankets, an open book lying face down to keep the page. Even in the dim light, Regulus can make out the rows of messily placed pictures that gathers on the wall but he can’t quite see what they contained.
On a mantlepiece below it, a flame flickers on a candle, filling the room with a warm glow that Regulus happily welcomes, accompanied by the scent of newly baked bread, fresh daisies, and the smell after rain on a quidditch pitch.
It all seemed very homely. This was definitely not a place he knew.
“You’re at my house, Regulus.”
And oh.
The memories flood back into him now. The curses, the screaming, the shouting, the blood.
There was so much blood.
He remembers his mother’s face, not the angry one, that doesn’t bother him in the slightest. No, he remembers the way her eyes were downturned, her mouth in a light pompous pout, her eyes void and emotionless, carrying only one sentiment that Regulus is becoming very well acquainted with. Disappointment.
Regulus groans in despair at the situation, head falling back onto the sofa back as he drags his hands down his face. “Kill me,” he sighs.
“Ah, there’s the Reg I know and love.”
Regulus removes his hands from his face, shooting daggers at Sirius. “I had it handled, you didn’t have to come.”
“Oh yes, bleeding on the floor dying, you had it handled for sure.”
“I did,” Regulus grumbles with insistence knowing full well he would have most definitely taken his last breath in the bedroom if it wasn’t for Sirius. “How’d you know to come anyways?”
“When do I not?”
“I knew you set up cameras in my room when I was 5.”
Sirius cackles manically. “Oh, I’ve missed you.”
Regulus hums, tending to the scars on his knuckles, watching the way his fingers flex and staring in awe at how well they were grown back after his mother broke them. “Well don’t get too used to it. I’m leaving.”
And with that, Regulus gets up quite determinately, ignoring the unbearable ache on his left foot and shooting pains up his chest and spine. He shuffles past the two boys, aiming toward the opening in the wall that presumably led to the kitchen which he hopes goes to the front door.
It does not.
Regulus is very lucky, didn’t you know?
He hears scrambling behind him, knowing his brother is following closely and sighs, hobbling to turn around and face him.
“Where are you going?”
“I don’t know! Evan’s? I’ll figure it out. Not everyone has a James fucking Potter you know.”
“Regulus, you know their parents won’t spare you a glance,” Sirius says, genuine concern and panic lacing his voice.
“Oh yeah, and James’ parents will?” Regulus says indignantly.
“They will,” he hears James voice softly behind his brother, sounding so kind it must be fake.
It’s definitely fake.
“Don’t be daft, you barely know me,” Regulus scoffs at both of them. “How exactly do I leave this place you’ve kidnapped me to?”
“Why would I tell you have to escape the place we saved you in,” Sirius says, emphasising the word saved as if it would mean anything to Regulus.
“Plus, I could get to know you,” James piques up from the back.
Oh goody.
“Listen, my leg aches like fuck and I can already feel the stitches in my face starting to hurt like a god damn bitch so you better tell me how to leave this blasted place before I make sure all three of us have identical scars.”
“You’re up!”
Regulus whips around at the words, turning to look at Euphemia Potter.
“H-Hi Mrs. Potter.”
For the first time in a while, Regulus stumbles over his words, looking at this lady who wore the kindest smile and bustled in with her motherly affection, hands spilling all over Regulus’ scars, tending to it so carefully that he doesn’t even mind the fact that he doesn’t even know who she is.
“Right, well, I thought you could crash in Sirius or James’ rooms until you are completely better. I would prefer you in James’ as I know he’d be able to tend to your injuries better but I’m sure you would be more comfortable in your brother’s so I won’t stop you.”
“Sorry, what- what do you mean?”
“Why you’re staying here of course!”
And that was that. How could Regulus say no?
“Of course, ma’am,” he says quickly, nodding along to ease the confusion in her face that he may not stay.
In the corner of his eyes, he can see Sirius’ sly grin, he knew Regulus wouldn’t be able to say no to Euphemia. No one could. That cheeky fuck, Regulus is going to-
“No need for all that pish posh here, angel. Call me Effie.”
Regulus nods again in habit, smiling slightly, feeling warm.
“Now then boys, off to bed you go. It’s nearing 5am,” Effie says.
“Of course, ma’am,” James and Sirius chorus behind him, chuckling slightly. Effie laughs with them before patting Regulus gently on the head and settling her palm on his back, giving him a slight nudge toward the other two.
They bundle up the stairs, the young boy trailing close behind and tripping over some steps in his haze of sleepiness.
“Play nice!” he hears Effie call from below as they reach the top.
“Always ma,” James calls back, a grin plastered on his face despite the obvious weariness in his eyes. Regulus sighs inwardly at the sight, wincing when his leg bends slightly and causes the ache to intensify further and cursing himself for the odd murmur in his belly.
He follows Sirius into his room, not missing the fact that James enters as well, a look on his face that doesn’t indicate his long-awaited absence anytime soon.
This is going to be a ridiculously long year.
-------
Sirius’ bed is admittedly very comfortable. It’s warm and molds to Regulus’ body just right, unlike his hard cold mattress back at home that basically bounces him back off to the floor if he ever jumped into it. He can hear low chatter coming from the floor beside him.
Stupid co-dependent Sirius and James decided to build a bloody fort on the bedroom floor filled with blankets and pillows galore. They had dragged in the duvet from James’ room – a red quidditch theme one, Regulus would like to add. Using all their might and energy, the two brought stashes of pillows and snacks from god knows where, hiding it into the tent quietly while Regulus watched in complete confusion at how two teenagers could be so childish. Fucking 5-year-olds.
They had urged him to join their shenanigans and whilst Regulus did desperately want to, he refused continually, using the ache in his leg as an excuse and staying strictly on the bed until their heads had disappeared into the shelter of their ridiculous makeshift fort that looked like it was about to come down crashing at any moment.
“He’ll be okay?” comes a low whisper, the familiar voice sounding smaller than Regulus has ever heard it before.
“Of course, Sirius.”
He hears it escape the protection of the tent that hid them away from the world. Hid them away from Regulus. Other than a few misplace words here and there, Regulus can’t really tell what they’re talking about. Suddenly he longs to be there too, to snuggle under the warmth of his big brother like he used to when they were kids. How pathetic.
Instead of giving into the instinct of curling into his brother, he stays silent, shuffling to turn away to his side, away from them in hopes to block them out.
Regulus feels like a bloody mess, using his hands to trace over the scars on his face, wondering how many stitches he has. Effie must have done a good job as the wounds feel almost painless, or maybe he just has a higher pain tolerance than most. In all honesty, he can’t remember quite clearly what had happened when Sirius came through his fireplace, only recalling the overwhelming sense of relief and gratitude he had felt at his presence.
His consciousness slipped in and out from that moment on. He knows there were warm hands, soft voices, kind gestures. He was unaware of who was touching him where but he does remember feeling unnerved at the thought that people were looking at him in such a vulnerable state when he was unable to mask himself. He hated that. He hated feeling raw and stripped from the usual dignity he held. It made him disgusting.
It made him dirty.
Regulus hears shuffling coming from the fort, pulling him out of his thoughts, and before he knows it, he feels the bed behind him sink lower at a weight.
“You awake?”
He nods, not turning to face his brother.
“Guess you’re angel now.”
“What?” Regulus says, head swivelling around to look at Sirius, not bothering to adjust his body. He is sitting at the edge of the bed, relatively far from Regulus as if he is afraid to touch him. Regulus wouldn’t blame him for feeling that way. Anything that touches him is doomed for disaster.
“Like Effie’s name for you,” Sirius explains. “James is sweetheart because he has the sweetest heart you’ll ever see. And I’m cupcake!”
Regulus pauses. “Because you’re disgusting?”
“Because I’m sweet, of course!” The eager smile on his face is quite comical and Regulus takes it in, not having seen the genuinely happy look directed towards him in a while.
“You can’t possibly be proud of that,” he says with a scorn. He tries to sound judgmental and snappy but the sentence comes out awfully soft.
Sirius shrugs, smile not leaving, “I would be happy with anything she calls me.”
Regulus wants to mock him for it but can’t find the words, realising all at once that he fully understands what he means.
“My nickname isn’t very suiting,” Regulus says, frowning. He is anything but an angel. Not a devil either though, he doesn’t hold enough power for that. He’s kind of just there. Not anything worth worshipping or fearing but still something most despise.
“I’ll say,” Sirius says with a scoff, looking down at his brother. He lifts a hand and awkwardly pats Regulus’ hand in an attempt to invite him in, “Join us in the fort, will you? It’s warm and nice.”
But Regulus is not anything close to warm and nice. He’s cold, both metaphorically and physically. He has to be. If he lets any part of himself melt now, he knows the immense amount of emotions that would overwhelm him and just cause distractions. He can’t let any wall down, he can’t risk that. It’s too dangerous. If he enters that safe haven that Sirius and James have created, he would just taint it. He doesn’t feel like ruining anything else this year. He knows that’s a big thing to wish for, Regulus has a habit of ruining everything that dares to come into close proximity with him.
So, with that in mind, he turns back over, squeezing his eyes shut and not bothering to think over his decision again.
“Goodnight Sirius,” he forces out and it sounds quite strangled due to the fact that he was very much wrestling the intense feelings that sway him toward joining the two boys, pushing them down as far as they would go.
He hears Sirius sigh and get up, returning to the tent and bringing all the safety and comfort with him. Regulus pulls the blanket tighter around him and lets his mind wander to anything he can think of.
To green sweaters and his freezing hands and Pandora’s laugh. To his mother’s love or lack thereof. To Evan’s jokes and Barty’s chaos. To his mistakes and tribulations. To Dorcas’ comments that send them bursting into fits of laughter. To the unwelcoming atmosphere of his own house. To the unbearable feeling of being less than everyone around. To being a burden. To being unwanted. To being Regulus Black.
What a fucking honour it is to be the heir to the Noble House of Black.
And even there, where it should be granted at birth, where there was minimal place to screw it up, Regulus was not only second-choice but a failure. That’s all he will ever be.
It is mainly why Regulus is a professional contortionist – bending over backward and cutting himself into a perfect pattern so that his mother might finally love him. It’s tiring, exhausting even, but for the split second where his mother nods in approval, mouth slightly less tight and hands not shaking to hurt him, Regulus would do it a thousand times over.
Why doesn’t he deserve a mother’s love? Why doesn’t he deserve guaranteed love and affection? It is entirely unfair, he thinks, and yet every part of him screams, telling him he needs to do more, to do better. Bend further, smaller, this way and that way. Be perfect. It’s not that hard. You just have to try.
So, he tries, he tries so hard. And every single time, he doesn’t try hard enough.
And now, he’s in James Potter’s house, hiding from his parents, doing the one thing he promised himself he wouldn’t do. He’s giving up.
And fuck does he want to rip himself apart for it.
Regulus never gives up; he knows he can’t. But oh, he wants to so badly. To just be more like his brother, uncaring and free. To be happy. Can he be?
Being in this bed at this moment gave him a sliver of hope, a piece of bravery. Maybe he could let go. But why does he want to run right back to his house? To beg for his mother’s love and forgiveness? This is all he’s ever wanted, to be with his brother and far from Grimmauld Place.
Why is he like this? Stuck between two worlds and unable to pick between what his destiny is meant to be and what it could be. Regulus Black, always missing in the midst of two opposing lives, never belonging fully to anyone anywhere. The lost soul cut up in odd places to fit a mold that no one could ever fit into realistically, leaving him a weird shape that fits into no jigsaw puzzle. A stray.
It’s entirely frustrating. He tugs at his hair in distress, letting himself breathe for the first time in what felt like years
Below the night sky, under a roof that he has never known in his life, so close yet so far to the one person he trusted his entire life, Regulus Black lets a tear drop fall silently down his cheek, stinging a scar as it goes
Without anyone knowing, he casts a silencing charm to muffle any noise, and a star cries.
-------
The next morning, Regulus wakes up to a deafening crash – not that he had been sleeping anyways but it still jolts him from the comfortable position he had curled into.
“What the fuck?” he blurts out, head whipping around to search for the source of the crash.
He looks onto the floor, seeing the fort that was built from the previous night before flat on the surface, poles that were used to steady it rolling closer toward the bedroom door. A chair that was holding up the other side of tent was toppled over and had fallen onto the side of the bed and the rough outline of James and Sirius was very evident through the fallen blanket.
He rolls his eyes and hears booming laughter coming from below the mess, seeing a distraught and humoured Sirius Black scrambling to escape the trapped chaos. He crawls out through the legs of the chair, peeking up to see Regulus staring back at him and starts laughing again.
“Come on then, help me wake this idiot up, I swear he could sleep through an earthquake,” Sirius says, pointing at James’ figure that Regulus now realises is still lying silently underneath his red duvet. He scowls at Sirius, not wishing to take part in any waking up, but passes him the biggest pillow he can reach anyways. Sirius grins and takes it, muttering a thank you before whacking the poor boy violently with the pillow, singing a ridiculous ‘Wake up’ song to the tune of Happy Birthday To You.
Regulus can’t help but smile, making sure Sirius cannot see him when he does. James groans loudly, telling him to ‘Piss off’ and still not moving from his spot.
“JAMES, THE CHUDLEY CANNONS ARE ABOUT TO WIN!”
The shout is deafening but it surely does the trick. James shoots up, the blanket going with him, and Regulus can see him whipping his head side to side underneath the fallen fort, looking extremely comical. At that, Sirius bursts out laughing and Regulus is only a man, chuckling slightly but quietly.
“SIRIUS, I TOLD YOU NOT TO DO THAT EVER.”
But Sirius isn’t listening anymore, eyes focused on Regulus in shock. “Reg, did you just,” he pauses as if trying to find a word for it. “Laugh?”
He rolls his eyes for the fifth time just that morning, “Fuck off, Sirius.”
“Oh, now this I have to see,” James says, still hidden by the heap of blankets. He pushes against it, pulling the blankets completely off him and taking in a dramatic gasp of air as if he hasn’t seen daylight in ages. When he emerges, his cheeks are red and his hair is messy, catastrophically tangled like a mop on top of his head. And it mesmerises Regulus.
He can’t stop staring.
What the fuck?
“Go on then, Reg, do it again so James can see.”
“What?” he says, a little bit awestruck by the boy in front of him who is now grinning mercilessly and Regulus wants to slap his face and deform it so he doesn’t have to look like… well like that.
“Laugh, then, go on.”
His neck snaps to look at Sirius. “You’re a prick.”
“You love me.”
“I really, really don’t.”
“You do.”
“I don’t.”
“You do.”
“I don-”
“Okay that’s it, no more bickering I want breakfast,” Sirius announces, cutting Regulus of mid-sentence and skipping out of the room.
“Prick,” he says under his breath.
James chuckles beside him and Regulus tries his hardest to simply ignore it. Carefully, he moves to get up, pulling the sheets off him and slowly moving his legs towards the side of the bed. A bruise scrapes against the side, and he winces, trying to muffle his grunt at the pain.
“Woah there, careful, you nearly died yesterday.”
“You are just as dramatic as my brother.”
James slaps his chest with his hands, looking overly insulted at the statement, “I am not dramatic!”
“He says, dramatically,” Regulus remarks.
James just smiles at him. It’s weird.
“Stay there.”
“What?” Regulus asks, confused, but James is already half-way out of the door.
“Just stay there!”
5 minutes later, James re-enters the room with a tray in hand. Regulus had already settled back in, not planning to move from his position in a while. He watches in complete shock as James sets the tray of food on the bedside table, unfolding a device that seemed to act as a table, propping it up on the bed over Regulus’ legs and placing the tray onto it.
“You brought me breakfast in bed?”
James shrugs. “You’re hurt and you look tired.”
Regulus’ mouth is still agape. “But… What is wrong with you?”
At that, James laughs, throwing his head back. “I don’t know, probably had too much love growing up.”
Regulus shakes his head and looks down at the assortment of pancakes and waffles. “Potter, I think you’ve brought me too much.”
“No, no, some is for me too.”
“You’re eating with me?”
“Yeah, if you want,” James says. “Effie is talking to Sirius downstairs so he probably won’t be joining us.”
Regulus doesn’t respond, picking up a knife and buttering a waffle. Apparently, James takes that as a yes, telling him to ‘scooch over’. Regulus crosses his legs under the makeshift table, grimacing as he does so and hoping James doesn’t notice. James plops down opposite him, picking up a pancake and munching on it.
“Try not to spill, Sirius would send both of us to the hills and never allow us to return,” James says. Regulus nods, although he never spills. If he did, Walburga would have broken a finger.
“So, you said last night that we barely know each other,” James starts, and Regulus can already feel a bad idea coming. “But I want to know you.”
“You don’t have to do that, Potter,” Regulus says, tired of the constant pity that comes his way.
“Oh, but I want to,” James says, voice almost pleading. “Please let me, Reggie.”
He smirks when the nickname falls from his mouth and Regulus looks up at him in distaste, fork in his mouth. “Nope, not gonna be a thing.”
“Awh, come on it’s cute!”
“No.”
“Pleaseeee?” James is smiling ridiculously wide now, looking stupidly sweet as he begged to call Regulus by his nickname and Regulus almost gives in.
“No.”
“Okay then, Reggie,” James continues, unfazed. Regulus scowls. “Let’s play a game.”
“No.”
“Twenty questions! It’s an easy one! You can’t lose!”
“No.”
“I’ll let you choose which ones not to answer?”
Regulus thinks it over, playing with the waffle on the plate, “Fine, but you only get one question a day.”
“Ooh, dragging this out I see.”
“Get on with it, Potter.”
James laughs again. He’s always laughing.
“Let’s start easy. Who is your best friend?”
That one is an easy question and Regulus doesn’t hesitate in answering. “Pandora,” he says decisively. “Barty, Evan, and Dorcas too but Pandora is easily the best one.”
“Rosier?”
“The one and only.”
James nods, seemingly taking it in and thinking deeply. “Mine is Sirius.”
“Oh really? Would have never guessed,” Regulus says dryly.
James hums, mouth stuffed with food. “I’m mysterious like that.”
Regulus rolls his eyes, again. They eat in silence after that but Regulus finds that it isn’t really awkward, in fact it’s quite comforting. He places the fork down gently, meticulously cleaning up his mess and ensuring everything is in place before leaning back and looking at James finishing up. “I can bring it down later,” he says.
“Don’t worry, I got it.”
Regulus nods, kind of at a loss for words, and watches James pick up the tray. To compromise, Regulus closes the device and slots it back to where it came from. “Thank you,” he mumbles quietly, and he’s almost sure it’s too quiet for James to hear.
“Tea or coffee?” James asks in response.
“Oh, it’s okay.”
“I’ll surprise you then!” James says without a pause.
Regulus watches him leave, awestruck and a bit confused. No one had never bothered to be nice to Regulus before. Other than Pandora but she’s an exception.
Speaking of Pandora and the others, Regulus realises that he has none of his books for school and that he has no possible way of getting them now. He sighs, hoping his parents have not taken out his Gringotts money. He knows they didn’t withdraw Sirius’ for some reason, but they might despise him just enough to do it for him.
Does this mean he’s staying here then? Regulus isn’t sure. Was he even welcome?
At that moment, both Sirius and James come bursting into the room, James holding two cups and passing a mug to Regulus. “Hot chocolate,” he announces proudly. “Works wonders when you have stitches.”
Regulus gives him a tight-lipped smile in gratitude, but places the mug on the table beside him instead of sipping it to let it cool down a bit, seeing as it was still scalding hot.
“Well then Reg, three more days to Hogwarts and you have essentially nothing,” Sirius says, reading his mind. “Trip to Diagon Alley?” he asks excitedly, looking over at James.
“Yes!” he replies, over-enthusiastically.
“You know, I don’t think Reg has ever been.”
James’ jaw drops wider than ever, eyes in a ghastly shock. “You’ve never been… to Diagon Alley.”
“Nope” Regulus says, eyes bored. The truth is, his parents never brought them shopping, always leaving it up to the house elves to do it. Unlike Sirius, however, Regulus didn’t mind much, not thinking he was missing out on anything too important. He did wonder about it when Evan would take about the chocolate frogs or Dorcas showed them her new broomstick but the urge to go never occurred to Regulus. He was always more of a stay-at-home guy so the thought of shopping until you drop did not quite appeal to him. Still, he does wish his parents would have brought him at least once despite the fact that it didn’t really bother Regulus.
“Are you even a wizard?” James says, almost shrieking.
“Well, I would hope so.”
“Oh my god. We are definitely going now.”
Regulus groans at the same time that Sirius whoops and well, isn’t that just the perfect summary of the Black Brothers?