fighting the inevitable

While Walburga hadn’t found out what he had used their owl for, she was alerted of its comings and goings and knew it had left the house on unauthorised business. That earned him a sharp slap to the face though he said he used it to reply to a letter from Pandora asking about something related to their upcoming OWLs at the end of the year. She didn’t trust him but dropped the topic.

It had been worth it, he hoped.

He ruminated on what Sirius’ thoughts on the matter might have been the following day in the Library, the book open on his lap completely forgotten as he was lost in his mind.

Their library was extensive, quite possibly the only admirable part of this house as it was set off a bit from the main body of the house, allowing it to have high ceilings and reach up to two stories tall. It was rather dark except for the ceiling which had skylights dispersed throughout to reveal a sheet of grey above them. The shelves were made of a dark wood with numerous strengthening charms to support the leather tomes with which each were stacked full of.

There was an endless supply of books on dark magic but he had managed to sneak in dozens of ‘nonsensical’ books by veiling them in disguise that Walburga would likely never be able to look past. He was the only one that really used this space anyways, the smell of parchment and ink reminding him of Hogwarts.

The noise of little pattering alerted him that an elf was on its way and just as he expected, Kreacher walked in a moment later.

They never spoke about that unfortunate incident two days ago in which he hauled Regulus to bed like he was a depressed sack of potatoes and tucked him in but he hoped Kreacher knew how much he appreciated the act nonetheless.

“Master Regulus, Mistress Black is needing you downstairs, she is having a guest,” he croaked, head bowed though as the years passed it was harder to tell whether he did it out of respect or simply old age.

He slowly sat up straighter, putting his book aside. He didn’t recall Walburga ever mentioning they were having guests over. He quickly ran a hand through his hair as he shoved his feet back into his shoes and left at a quick but reasonable pace. Endurance was not one of his strong suits.

He turned the corner to the receiving room and found Bellatrix talking animatedly with his mum. She looked the same as she always did but her excitement instantly put him on edge as he creeped slowly into the room.

“Regulus,” she grinned.

“Bella,” he greeted her shortly.

“I’ve invited Bellatrix here to help you practise your magic. Hogwarts doesn’t provide a very well-rounded education and I believe you are sorely lacking as of late,” his mum smiled, her voice sweet as snake venom.

“Ah,” he said, crossing his hands behind him, “Well, I look forward to it,” he agreed simply despite the cold chill that swept over him, his hand trembling slightly in his closed fist.

“I do hope you manage to learn something ,” she commented snidely before striding out of the room. 

After his mum slapped him across the face, she had gone on a tirade on how he was not to disappoint her as the new heir to the House of Black. He supposed her newfound worry for the future of their house coupled with his insolence at yesterday’s dinner forced her to seek out Bellatrix of all people for assistance.

He just looked back at his cousin, confused about what exactly they were to do now. He hadn’t actually expected they’d be doing anything today .

“Come, come, you have no space in this house,” she groaned, looking around at the dark room before wrapping a clawed hand around his wrist and pulling him into the floo with her. 

They ended up at her manor, her wedding with Rodolphus coming in the following months.

Their manor felt…confusing. There were large windows throughout that revealed a beautiful countryside that was currently covered in an undisturbed blanket of pure white snow. The front lawn had plants that were mere skeletons now but gave way to breathtaking fauna come spring and the back garden was no different. The outside of the house was a marvel and a complete juxtaposition to his own.

However, the floors were made of near black wood, there were paintings of ancient family members everywhere who sneered and snarled at anyone that entered the house- pureblood or not, the walls were painted a deep green that made every space feel small, and there was nothing personal about the house in the slightest- it was cold, metaphorically and literally, he wished he had brought a cloak with him.

Bellatrix twirled out of the fireplace, arms wide as she spun around to face him, “To the garden.”

“The garden? Why?” he asked, apprehension written clearly on his features.

His memories in this house weren’t necessarily extensive. He and Sirius used to come over relatively often when they were younger and they were usually excited considering they weren’t allowed to spend time with many other kids their age so his cousins were practically his idols, especially since they were all a few years older than he was.

Narcissa was most definitely his favourite as they were the most similar. They had many common interests as well as matching temperaments. The two of them created a duo that was almost the exact opposite of Sirius and Andromeda who were quite a devious couple, causing mayhem anytime they came together but weaselling out of the consequences all at the same time.

Bellatrix was the ‘odd one out’ so to speak.

She was quite close with her sisters though over the years they grew more distant. It was clear however, that Andromeda’s banishment from the family was her breaking point. She became more brash and irrational, her thread on any sense of ‘family’ and ‘loyalty’ snapping, unable to be resown together.

All of these traits are what pushed her towards the woman she was today, one that he did not recognize as the cousin he grew up with.

He followed her towards the glass doors a small elf pulled open for them and it reminded him of the elf from Christmas dinner. He knew better than to ask about it but wondered if it had survived, single-handed and all.

His teeth instantly began chattering once the cold air rushed towards him, nipping at his exposed flesh, “You never answered my question.”

“So impatient,” Bellatrix tutted as she continued walking all the way to a small clearing in the centre of the barren garden. Her robes were an odd style, as though she had jumped into a pile of mismatched black cloth and stepped back out as though ready. 

There was a fountain in the middle of the circular clearing outlined by dry hedges. Water streamed out of the mouth of a siren, distinctly different from a mermaid with her sharp teeth, pointed ears, and razor-sharp fingers. She was sitting on the base, facing the sky as if about to sing a song to lure anyone near to their death. Little clumps of frost floated across the surface of the low water before breaking apart by water charm kept the water flowing.

It matched the general decor inside- odd and unsettling.

Bellatrix spent a moment watching him- her head tilting oddly to the side, her tongue running over her teeth before she kissing them and going, “Alright, come on, pull out your wand.”

Sirius might’ve said- ‘that’s what she said,’ a muggle phrase he picked up from his Remus and used insistently for years and now here he was, adopting it.

Though he did what she said and pulled out his wand, holding it aloft, waiting for some more direction.

“ Expelliarmus! ”

“Hey!” he shouted as his wand landed directly in Bellatrix’s hand.

She rolled her eyes and threw it back at him, “When Aunt Walburga told me to help you, I didn’t think she meant to reteach you everything.”

“I wasn’t ready,” he argued, confused about the meaning of all of this in the first place.

“ I’m trying to assess your ability,” he heard her voice in his mind, hissing in a false caress against the boundaries of his mind.

“Get out of my head,” he ordered, scrabbling up his mental walls and pushing her definitively out of his lighthouse.

“ Expelliarmus! ” she shouted again though it was unsuccessful as he deflected the spell quickly this time.

While he might have expected her to nod and appreciate his quick adaptation, she merely took it as an invitation to continue.

She continued shouting spells he learned throughout his years at Hogwarts- leg-locking jinxes, disarming spells, explosive spells, et. cetera - all compounded on top of each other, forcing him to continue deflecting or reinforce his protection shield.

Sweat beaded on his forehead as he held his ground but Bellatrix looked completely at ease as she shot multi-colored hexes at him, dancing around him and forcing him to keep his feet constantly moving to match her. 

She casted magic like it was a performance, leaving him and anyone else in the audience stunned, forced to stop whatever they were doing and pay attention lest they miss a single moment. Her feet barely touched the ground, only hitting the grass under her long enough to pivot before continuing her wide path around him, further disorienting him.

The previous chilling air wasn’t enough now as he was overheating trying to balance physical and mental magic. He could still feel her trying to needle her way into his mind every few minutes, just to ensure his walls were still up.

She paused and he took advantage of it to collect himself.

“Hmm,” she hummed, tapping her chin with her wand as though it was an extension of herself. “Okay,” she decided whatever internal conversation she was having, nodding once and raising her strong arm once more.

“ Alta vulnus! ” she hissed, crouching low now in a fighting position, one foot braced behind her and head cocked. 

She was losing herself to her magic, going deeper into that well of magic that brewed within her, teetering on the ledge and if she fell, he wasn’t sure there was anyone to catch her. He could see it clearly in the way the earlier spells didn’t excite her like this one did. 

He’d never heard it before but he felt it well enough to catch the meaning. The hex fired at him in an explosion of red, catching him on the arm through his shield and searing through his skin. Hot blood spilled from the wound onto the white snow beneath him, just like the wine on the hardwood floors.

He immediately covered the wound with his hand and glared at her, affronted, “What the fuck Bella.”

She just raised her dark eyebrows as though his wound was answer enough.

She shouted it again and he was forced to layer multiple shields on top of each other just to defend himself from her.

The onslaught of spells was relentless, she cast so many spells he’d never heard of before but each caused their own unique type of pain- electrocution, lacerations, something that affected his hearing and took away his sense of hearing were just the ones he could identify in the small space of time between the waves of attack. He couldn’t even keep up a shield because each new spell she cast could get around it with ease and he could barely make sense of what he even cast himself- his mind and body completely uncoordinated with what he wanted and unable to keep up with Bellatrix who cast with surgical precision.

“ Bombarda maxima! ” she shouted, aiming right at his feet and the ground beneath him exploded, sending him flying a few yards away in a pile of dirt and snow. The cuts he had blooming along his arms were weeping red tears of blood while all of his bones shrieked in pain at the impact.

He could barely lift his head as his ears rang loudly and his vision swam. He slowly saw two figures of Bellatrix approach him and she crouched down right in front of him, “Never did I think you would be so helpless Regulus. You’re the heir now, you will do better or else I’ll burn you off the tapestry myself,” she threatened.

That was all she had to say for today before disappearing, retreating from his limited line of sight.

He just dropped his head back down to look up at the sky above him, groaning anytime he moved a muscle or joint.

He expected maybe she’d assign her a few books to read up on, maybe practise some small scale duelling or she’d instruct him on all the spells she used and he’d flourish under her tutelage. He didn’t expect to be thrown into a duel with her and forced to protect himself under a charge of spells he’d never heard before from a clear professional.

He wondered when she had even learned all these spells and understood clearly that the only explanation for Bella’s complete turn in character could be attributed to the one man recruiting strong witches and wizards like her.

“Oh dear,” he heard and opened his eyes to Narcissa who he hadn’t heard approach.

He felt himself being lifted from the ground and she brought him all the way to a small study just inside the back doors. She instantly lit the hearth and had demanded a list of items from a decrepit elf that nodded immediately before disappearing.

He opened his eyes to her delicate face staring down at him, kneeling on the floor next to his supine form on the velvet green sofa.

“I watched the whole thing, I’m sorry I couldn’t help you but you know Bella…” she trailed off, brushing a tendril of his hair away from his face, her touch feather light and warm against his cool and slick face.

“I know Bella,” was all he sighed, resigned to succumb to the beast she was.

“Now let’s see what we can do about these nasty cuts, I did well enough with healing spells,” she whispered, as though even speaking too harshly may cause his wounds to reopen and she slowly peeled his shirt off, giving it to an elf to clean and mend.

The healing process was excruciatingly painful, Narcissa too hesitant to move too quickly or do anything drastic and forcing him to feel every inch of his skin being pulled taut and together in slow motion. He appreciated her effort but he’d rather go through the torture of getting it again than sit through this.

“I’m sorry Reg,” she whispered, shaking her head at herself. She had become even more unsure of herself, quiet and meek, unlike the girl she was before and he had to blame Malfoy. While Bellatrix may have gone off one end, Narcissa was teetering the complete opposite and he desperately wished to pull her back.

“It’s okay, truly,” he assured her.

“And last you have- Episkey! ”

A quick snapping sound followed by a burst of pain and then relief, “Ouch,” he said exaggeratedly, rubbing his arm.

“Just wanted to get that one over with,” she smiled.

Once everything had been fixed and wrapped, she sat back in a wing-backed chair across from him, her feet tucked under her. She was watching the flames dancing along the hearth and it reflected gold light back on her alabaster face. Her hair was flowing freely at her sides, part of it tied back by a light blue ribbon that she had been using since she was young.

She doled out tea for the both of them, preparing it exactly how he liked it before turning to face him, “While Bellatrix was…harsh, I am happy we have this time to speak, I missed you.”

“I know it must be hard after…what happened but you know I’m here for you always, I know what it’s like to lose…someone” she assured him sadly, reaching over to put a hand over his.

None of them were to speak Sirius or Andromeda’s name after they were blasted off the tapestry. He wouldn’t be surprised if sirens went off if they did with how seriously the Blacks took things like that.

Thet sat like that for a long moment, a lifetime of memories flitting over both of their minds and reminding them of better times while simultaneously making them feel sadder about the present. They didn’t even have to vocalise these feelings, a mutual understanding settling quietly between them.

“Tell me, how’s your year been, OWLs are coming up right?” she asked, the corner of her mouth lifting as she cradled her mug closer to her and he smiled, diving into a conversation full of random tangents and comments that he felt were imperative to include just for the sake of it.

They took turns speaking and listening, going on without pause until the sun set and it was time for him to go back to Grimmauld to continue counting down the minutes till he could get to go back home.

____

“Faster!” Bellatrix shouted, blood pooling at the side of her mouth and dripping down her chin like a vampire that had just made a fresh kill.

He pushed harder, grunting with the effort it took to keep going. His arm burnt from the strain he had been putting on it, casting and defending himself without end. It felt wrong to attack back so he simply just reflected everything back at her and had managed to knock her with a hex. 

Just because he wasn’t aiming for her face didn’t mean he didn’t feel a bit satisfied at the sight of it.

She had been keeping this up for days, all through the new year and after. He didn’t have time to celebrate the holidays or relax from the term to gear up for the next one- he was Bellatrix’s plaything to bombard relentlessly and he couldn’t possibly keep up with her.

“Wait!” she announced loudly in the garden, her voice carrying over and a flock of birds escaped from the tree they had been hiding in, crowing as they disappeared over the horizon. “You are distracted,” a comment, not a question.

“I’m not,” he frowned, standing his ground.

“So you truly are this shite at duelling?” she asked, cocked brow.

“I don’t want to hurt you.”

She laughed like he had just told a joke, like the idea of him doing any actual harm was incomprehensible and it made fire burn low in his stomach, the sick feeling of insecurity and diffidence seeping through him.

“I wish to see the day you could,” she mocked, slowly stalking towards him but he held firm, refusing to back down. “Let’s see what’s going on up there then.”

He had only just heard the words before her wand was at his temple and he had the sensation of falling. Bellatrix had thrown herself into his mind, the worst kind of violation imaginable, and was sorting through his memories as if reading a magazine. Flashes of the last term flitted through the forefront of his mind and he shut them all away right as she caught them.

It was messy and obvious but he had been working on his Occlumency all term and was gaining easily on her until he managed to shut things away before she got a chance to even get a glimpse of what he was trying to hide. Most of those were memories of James, Sirius, his friends, anything and anyone incriminating.

Instead, he threw forth memories of Potions lectures and Quidditch matches. Whatever he knew would annoy Bellatrix, he shot at her, throwing her off her aim and leaving her confused.

While Bellatrix may have the upper hand physically, Regulus was winning this mental battle of arms, showing his cousin that brute force wasn’t the pinnacle of strength or what made a good soldier.

More often than not, he spent his days in a daze of Occlumency- not just so he could strengthen his mental shields but because of the pain he spent his days in. Narcissa was helpful but she was not a mediwitch and she was away more often than not, planning her wedding with Malfoy and her horrendous in-laws. 

He knew he had a multitude of broken bones that had gone unhealed and were setting improperly. His skin was littered in scars and scabs accentuated by bruises in varying shades of purple.  He had barely been eating, managing a few bits and pieces that kept him going and nothing more, Walburga’s comments sticking in his mind like cement.

He felt nothing like the person he was just a few short weeks ago. He was a shell more often than not and had become just a slight bit dependent on dreamless sleep to silence his mind in the dark hours of the night when his mind had gone from a silent fortress to a manic thing, refusing him a moment’s respite. 

Bellatrix was relentless in her pursuit but he was victorious in keeping her out and leaving her on the outside of his trusty lighthouse, seeing it and knowing she’d never make it in.

She withdrew.

They were both on the ground now, him on his back and her kneeling right next to him, poised to attack. Her eyes rapidly flicked between his own and her brows were drawn, studying him like he was a new specimen and he stared her back down.

“You have potential,” was all she said before pulling away. “I’m sad to say today will be our last lesson before you have to go back, let’s make it count. Work on your offensive magic, defence will get you nowhere. Remember Reg, it’s all about power in this world, those without it deserve nothing better than death.”

She showed him the depths of her power then and while he fought back, it simply wasn’t enough. He didn’t match her in the slightest and whilst she walked away with a split lip and cut arm, he had an entire list of injuries and it was easier to figure out what didn’t hurt than what did.

He went home, took a potion, and knocked out, grateful for a reprieve from the world of the living that brought him nothing more than pain.

_____

He was woken up the following morning, the day he was to go to Hogwarts, with a harsh knock on his door.

He had only just opened his eyes when the door swung open to reveal his mother who stepped in without his ‘okay.’

“Mum,” he croaked, rubbing his eyes and sitting up, unused to seeing her so early or in this state.

“Are you aware of what time it is?” she asked curtly, her voice tight with barely concealed anger.

“No- I-,” he turned to his clock that revealed it was already half ten in the morning, the train set to leave at noon and he was completely unprepared.

He jumped out of bed, still in yesterday’s clothes and Walburga looked at him with complete distaste that he didn’t quite understand. She was usually mad at him more often than not but he hadn’t done anything to deserve the daggers she was throwing at him with her piercing glare.

“What is it?” he asked, voice low and already shaking.

She sat primly on the very edge of his bed, the mattress dipping slightly with the movement and she stared directly at him when asking, “Have you been in Sirius’ room?”

He immediately took a pause. 

Of course he had but how did she know? His first instinct was to lie but surely if she was asking then she knew something but then again, it could easily just be a test. His mind rapidly bounded between the two possibilities presented to him.

She hadn’t mentioned Sirius once the entire time he’d been back home and she hadn’t come to this floor of the house at all in his time here so he didn’t quite believe she’d take notice if he had gone in. The portraits didn’t care too much about him so it wasn’t like they’d tell on him and even then, he hadn’t gone back to Sirius’ room since he went to get the postcards and that was during the middle of the night.

“I have not,” he replied, hands behind his straight back. He tried to compose himself and gather as much dignity as he could despite his dishevelled appearance.

“Ah yes, I figured you’d say that,” she nodded, running a finger along the wooden post of his bed before flicking away nonexistent dust, “You see, it’s just because I walked by and I didn’t feel my magic there, when I cast the spell to find out who’s it was, would you believe it was yours?”

His heart stopped dead in his chest before rapidly speeding up at an irregular rhythm, beating in his ribcage like a bird demanding to be let out. His hands trembled, a quite often phenomenon after his mother’s and Bella’s Crucio’s and other painful hexes, but now it could have entirely been from fear.

He was only in his collared shirt and trousers from yesterday but his skin felt like it was on fire and his ears burned as his mother brought her eyes back to him, the metallic grey in them glinting with the promise of retribution.

Sirius was never to be mentioned, a clear rule, but he had gone straight into his room and she knew about it, the one person who hated Sirius most in this world. And for her to know what kind of magic was used to reward the room again, it was certainly in the realm of dark magic, the kind that tore away at one’s soul and magical core like a parasite.

He had redone the wards and locks exactly as she had done and no one else would ever have known he had gone in but the dark magic that defied all the normal laws and hacked into the very nature of magic and the chemistry that created it, well it was abhorrent and here his mother had easily used it just to incriminate him.

“What have I told you about lying?” she asked savagely, the words hitting him like a physical blow, before standing up and pointing her wand at him. The tip of her wand was an ever-familiar site but he’d never get used to the pain, the mind-splitting, soul-crushing agony that emitted from it.

_____

He had just barely made it to the train station, the train already puffing out clouds of smoke as it prepared to leave the station stock-full of students returning for the second half of the year.

His entire body was stiff, any move he made carried the risk of making him completely fall apart. His body was like a tower of cards, one wrong move and he’d surely crumble right on the train platform.

Kreacher had dropped him off and while Regulus was going to just silently leave, the old elf remained holding onto his cloak sleeve.

“Master Regulus, Kreacher is hoping you do well to please Mistress,” he hoarse.

Regulus just nodded, he couldn’t do much more than that.

“And Kreacher is hoping…Master Regulus eats more and sleeps. Master has not been taking care of himself…” he trailed off, suddenly unsure as he toed the line between silent subservient elf and a position akin to a friend.

He left without another word, unable to adequately respond.

Words didn’t matter, he had begged and pleaded with his mum to stop and she didn’t, she had only cursed him harder for his words and tears, ordering him to stop because “Blacks don’t cry.”

Words didn’t matter against Bellatrix for every spell he cast, she came back with more power without even needing to say the incantations aloud.

They didn’t matter for their elf who may have tried to comfort Regulus but was still inevitably tied to their surname more than he was to him.

He was the last one aboard, his trunk floating behind him as he made his way down the train cars all the way to the one he shared with his friends.

He slid the creaky door open and saw Pandora sitting silently with her head on Evan’s shoulder, her eyes closed while he stared out the window. Barty was curled up on the opposite bench, his nose in a book but his eyes were glossy and unfocused. Dorcas had headphones on as she listened to music out of a little muggle device she had gotten last year but she perked up at his arrival,

“Reg, we almost thought you wouldn’t make it!” she said, rousing everyone else.

She looked well, her hair long and in braids that went down to her waist, gold cuffs clinking throughout and allowing light to reflect off her. He was happy to see her bright-eyed and cheery, her familiar smile already on her face just as his arrival.

He wanted to say something, the words pushing up in him but he couldn’t get them out, couldn’t force his mouth to move around the words that he’d usually start with, not even a simple greeting survived to his mouth, instead dying somewhere along the way.

He sat down next to Pandora who smiled up at him, her hair finally unbound and looking as it should, “I managed to keep my head on for the rest of holiday,” she grinned, her cheeks rosy.

Again he nodded at them all before shutting his eyes slowly and slumping back into his seat, keeping his mind empty and separate from the rest of his unfortunate body.

He didn’t move for the entirety of the trip back to Hogwarts but he had heard his friends whisper all about him when they thought he had been asleep. Murmurs flitted about whether or not he was okay and if they should talk to him about it. Pandora mentioned what happened at Christmas dinner but admitted she didn’t know anything past that. 

They decided that they wouldn’t talk to him unless he brought it up first, wanting to respect his privacy, and he could’ve cried with how grateful he was because he wouldn’t be able to verbalise his experience back at Grimmauld.

No one else knew what it was like there, besides one person who was multiple train cars away though it felt like an entire world away for how different it was for them.

_____

The feast passed by in a blur, he put some food on his place and pushed it around a bit before silently excusing himself to go back up to Ravenclaw Tower, his earlier proclamation about trying to transition back to the Slytherin dorms fully forgotten.

He looked up from the table only twice during his time in the Hall and was met with the glaring eyes of James and Sirius. 

James was first, his wide hazel eyes inquisitive behind his glasses as his dark brows remained furrowed with two tension lines between them. He looked well, his skin vibrant and hair silky as it fell in front of his eyes. The length of his hair reminded him of the shortness of his own and he looked away in embarrassment though he couldn’t deny that brief eye contact reawakened that familiar sense of traitorous longing that flared to life in his presence.

Sirius was second, his gaze so heavy that Regulus only looked up because he felt his scalp prickle at the sansation. Sirius was the epitome of tense- every line and muscle was pulled taut as he stared at him and his grey eyes were practically glowing mercury and the knowing glint in his eye caught him off guard.

Memories of Sirius’ diatribe in Hogsmeade about him staying at home floated unbidden in his mind and Regulus wondered just for a moment what might have happened had he listened, if he just ignored Walburga’s missives and stayed, begged McGonagall to not contact his parents for further explanation, and remained in the safety of the castle walls.

Maybe he would’ve had the strength to speak now.

He fell asleep almost instantly, not even noticing when Pandora or her roommates arrived back in the room after the feast. The weariness that had been gathering over the holiday crashed over him like a wave, overwhelming the anxiety that toiled within him.

It was almost fine, like he could finally relax again and enjoy the rest of the term just spending time with friends and studying for OWLs, until he woke up with a scream.

His voice was hoarse with disuse but memories of Walburga and Bellatrix morphed in his mind, the two of them suddenly turning into Sirius then James then his own friends, all of them taking turns berating him for something, shouting at him for being a disappointment. The horror of it was all too much and he began shouting, pleading for help.

The nightmare forced him to lash out, all the tension in his body finally releasing in one fell swoop and every hastily healed cut and oddly set bone broke free, sending an overwhelming feeling of pain rushing through him and forcing him to wake up though it didn’t feel like he really slept at all. 

He genuinely thought he was dying, like this was it for him as he couldn’t make sense of anything.

One minute he was sleeping and now he was in a world of torment.

The only thing tethering him to this earth was Pandora’s face above his own, hers one of absolute shock and stress, her hands running over his face as her eyes darted all over him, trying to figure out what was happening. Her mouth was moving but Regulus couldn’t hear anything over the static filling his ears

He must have passed out because the next time he opened his eyes, he was being lowered onto a bed by Flitwick, Madam Pomfrey rushing into view in her nightgown the minute his back hit the bed.

“Merlin, what’s happened to him?” she asked hastily, her voice dripping with concern, though she was already casting spells before anyone answered.

“I don’t know! One minute he was sleeping and the next- I don’t know he was shouting and his arms were bleeding! I tried to help him but he passed out,” Pandora cried out, her voice garbled with the sound of tears. Her hair curled around her like a halo and her tears glistened against the low lights.

“What the- Reg?” he heard loudly from his other side, the voice too loud in the otherwise silent room.

“Everyone out!” Pomfrey ordered followed by the sound of swishing curtains. He tried to stay awake this time but his fight was futile as he felt his mouth being pried open and potions sludging down his throat before Merlin himself pushed his eyelids shut and held them there and he slipped further and further away from himself.

_____

He woke up and the infirmary was still dark save for a few golden lit sconces dotting the walls around them.

The crisp white sheet was pulled up his chest and tucked in all around the sides, locking him into place, and he was about to yank them free but his arms yelled at him and he looked down to see they were both wrapped- the left that hurt more wrapped in a much thicker wrap than the right one that just had a cut going from forearm to wrist.

He looked up to see gleaming golden eyes staring right back at him from the chair set next to his bed.

It was Remus.

He was wearing a blue hospital gown, same as the one he guessed he was wearing, and he looked much the same as before save for a light pink scar that stretched from his right eye down and across his cheek.

He was leaning back slightly in the chair, his legs stretched so that they reached the bed to lay by his own legs and he didn’t say a word, just watched him.

Regulus didn’t know what to say either.

He almost wondered why Remus was in the Hospital wing at all, already on the first day of term because surely he didn’t have a similar home life or else James would’ve already adopted him as well.

He glanced out the window to the thin crescent that hung heavy in the sky and Remus caught the movement quickly, looking out himself. His profile was highlighted by the sliver of white light that filtered in and cast his usual shades of gold and auburn into black and white.

“You sure like making an entrance don’t you?” he asked, remembering the first time Regulus staggered in the Hospital Wing last term in which Remus was still in this hospital surrounded by his group of friends.

“Madam Pomfrey said you had multiple broken bones in your arms and legs, cuts across your body, and your blood sugar levels were ‘criminally’ low,” he listed off seriously, none of the usual humour that was clear in his voice during their mornings in the greenhouse present.

That sounded about right.

Regulus opened his mouth, was about to say something, not because he was ready to but because he missed Remus. He never thought he’d say that but Remus sitting here and staring at him with sadness in his eyes cracked something in Regulus that made him want to speak up. To ask Remus how his holiday was to fill the void within himself.

Right as he inhaled, the curtain swished open to reveal James, also in a hospital gown.

He would have thought he was in some sort of nightmare where they were all admitted for life-threatening ailments until Remus turned and said in a harsh-whisper, “James, why are you in that?”

He looked at Remus and back down at himself, “Madam Pomfrey gave it to me because she said my uniform would be uncomfortable. She was right, these are way roomier,” he answered, swishing his arms and kicking his legs for emphasis on the ‘roominess.’

The corners of his lips turned up by their own accord as James spun in place, his arms up and foot on his other calf like a ballerina. His humour was so effortless and yet, it was the only thing that had cracked the glass cage he had enclosed himself in.

James’ smile slowly dropped into something more tender, more intimate, like the way he set his mouth just before he went in to kiss Regulus and the sight was almost too much to bear. The way he looked at Regulus clashed so harshly with how his own family saw him that he didn’t know what to believe- who was lying to him.

“You were supposed to stay in bed,” James pointed at Remus who only rolled his eyes in return.

“So were you, in the dorm,” he shot back with an arched brow.

“Here I am, being a caring friend, and this is the treatment I get,” he huffed, looking at Regulus with raised brows as if asking ‘are you seeing this?’

Remus stood up, shooting a look at Regulus that promised he’d be back and then looking at James with confusion before James readied himself and left as well, leaving him alone once again. Regulus noticed James hadn’t asked why Remus was in here at all but he probably just assumed he was being a ‘good neighbour.’

He spotted the vial of dreamless sleep on his side table and downed it in one go, grateful for madam Pomfrey for leaving it there for him and he was an inch away from falling asleep before his curtains opened again and James creeped in, sitting in the chair Remus had just left from and pulling his feet up so they wouldn’t be seen under the curtain if Remus decided to peek.

His hair was mussed from sleep but his eyes were bright as if he had been awake for hours. All signs of previous mischief drained out of him like Regulus pulled the stopper, the act he put on for Remus gone here as he seemingly trusted Regulus with his true feelings. 

He looked woeful as he traced his eyes over the wraps all over him.

He moved forward then without another word and pulled at the sheets at his sides, freeing him from the straitjacket it felt like and Regulus wondered if he was projecting his thoughts so loudly that James picked up on them. It was like Regulus said to him once before, he just always knew how to help.

“Are you okay? No- that was stupid,” he asked then shut himself up again. “I just mean…”

The potion was already starting to go to his head and he fell back deeper into the mountain of pillows behind him.

“Sirius came by while you were out, sat in this chair until Madam Pomfrey kicked him out,” he said, the words confusing and podgy in his mind, “She let me stay because I pretended to fall asleep in one of the beds.”

He tried to grasp onto James’ words, to parse out why Sirius had stayed by his side in the chair but his mind was already muddling with trying to absorb James’ presence that delving into the section of his mind containing Sirius was causing an overload.

“You scared us-,” he corrected himself, pausing, “me.” Then as if words couldn’t do the job, James put his hand in his pocket and pulled out the stone Regulus had given him before the holiday in a moment of mild insanity.

He squeezed his hand around the stone and a projection of lavender and silver lanced around them, encasing them without a diamond, bright in the otherwise dark room. He still wasn’t quite able to figure out what emotion each colour correlated to.

It was a familiar sort of beauty and Regulus didn’t think he could ever get tired of the sight- James or the stone. Both were its own rare kind of beauty but together- it was a marvel he was the only one privy to and he hoped it stayed that way for the world barely deserved James Potter. It certainly didn’t deserve to see him encased in a glimmering diamond, reflecting his every emotion.

“I love it,” James whispered though his eyes remained on Regulus.

It sucked back into the stone after a heartbeat and as Regulus’ eyelids drooped, dragged under the allure of sleep, James made to stand.

As Regulus’ eyes shut, he felt the brush of warm fingers across his cool cheek, light as a feather and soft as silk. The scent of jasmine wafted over him in an embrace greater than any received and his skin burned as James’ finger trailed downwards and Regulus knew he was tracing over the scar Walburga’s nail left.

“Kya huwa mera sitara?” he whispered, low in Regulus’ ear. The words were unfamiliar but the way James spoke them, with more emotion than he had ever said anything in English pulled at Regulus, forced him to open his eyes just to see James one more time, haloed in the moonlight.

“Bonne nuit,” he smiled down at Regulus, his face closer than he last remembered it.

The effortless switch from Urdu to French gave Regulus the energy to stare openly at James in awe, his lips falling open and skin warming. The pronunciation wasn’t quite right but he managed it, the effort of using Regulus' preferred language making up more than enough for a slight twist of the tongue.

Regulus hadn’t said a word all day and while in his friends’ presence he felt like he ought to say something so as to not worry them or perhaps to reassure them of his sanity, despite however tenuous it felt but with James he neither felt the urge nor pressure to give in. He made up for the silence all on his own and Regulus was all too happy to listen to him though the potion was taking effect and he was starting to regret having been so hasty in downing it.

James moved back to leave but Regulus lifted a pained arm to grip his wrist, his fingers digging into the soft skin in a desperate plea, “Stay.” The first and only thing he’d said all day, a stark contrast to his earlier shrieking.His arm hung suspended between them as he couldn’t gain the energy to hold it up himself and if James left now, it would only add insult to injury.

He couldn’t rationalise why or what James’ decision might be but it was only a beat before James spun his hand around so their palms faced each other and he raised his hand to his lips, kissing it, before sitting back down with a soft smile, “Okay.”

He didn’t remember anything after that but when he woke up and the sun had replaced the moon, James was gone but a vase of flowers he didn’t remember seeing there before were blooming by him. 

As he gathered his things, wanting to leave before the very attentive mediwitch came back to poke and prod him, a large piece of thick paper fell from his robe pocket.

He almost thought it was James’ and was confused about why such a large piece of paper and the lack of imaginative hiding places he usually used but he picked it up and was faced with a printed picture of a vast mountain range, white sheeps dotting the vibrant green slopes. Under the image in a bright white font were the words- Erin go Bragh!

It couldn’t be…but when he turned the rectangular card around, he saw Sirius’ handwriting- elegant and messy all at the same time.

Reg,

I received the postcards, you didn’t have to but I,  thank you. Uncle Alphard never went to Ireland funnily enough.

I hope one day you make it there, perhaps I’ll be there as well.

Maybe our paths will cross

Sirius

He reread the message over and over until his eyes burned. He could barely believe it and yet he was staring at the proof of his brother’s…care? The words seemed simple enough but for him and Sirius, who could barely manage looking at each other too long, this was everything.  He found himself lingering on the words that had been crossed out, wondering what it was that Sirius wanted to say then deemed irrelevant.

He was just about to make it out of the room, shocking himself out of his stupor, when the curtains swung open to reveal a serious-faced Madam Pomfrey who eyed his changed clothes and tsked.

“You know better than that,” she clucked, going back out and waiting until he changed back into the dressing gown again.

He sat like a petulant child, arms crossed against his chest as she forced him back to the bed but he couldn’t get the ghost of James’ lips across his hand away, the words inscribed onto the postcard as though they were on his skin, or even Remus’ quiet but whole attention.

He hadn’t imagined it was possible for a single night to undo more than a week’s worth of suffering and yet they had managed to make a dent in it, taking it upon themselves to ease the strain on his own back.

The realisation was shattering and Madam Pomfrey pretended not to notice as he wiped his eyes every time he turned away, wishing to go to that isolated lighthouse he had constructed in his mind at the edge of the world.

Maybe it was in Ireland.