Chapter 7
It’s almost completely dark by the time Sirius and Regulus make their way back up to the house. It is Sirius who opens the door, stepping inside quietly with Regulus behind him. James is nowhere to be found, and after looking at the clock, Regulus assumes that he's probably off somewhere getting Harry ready for bed. He walks to the island in the kitchen, tucking the fire whiskey and cigarettes into a drawer before turning to Sirius, who is leaning up against the door frame.
“Will you be staying the night?” asks regulus, his voice comes out thicker than expected, slightly horse as the final word leaves his mouth. If Sirius noticed he didn't show it, sometimes Regulus was grateful for Sirius's obliviousness.
“Only if it’s okay with you.” replies Sirius quietly, “I can go if you want me to.”
“No.” replies regulus quickly, the speed of the reply shocking him almost as much as the pang of fear that he felt at the thought of his brother leaving. “It’s okay, you can stay. James has been staying in one of the guest rooms, Harry's crib is in the other, and the couch is always open, so I'm sure you'll find a place to sleep somewhere in the house.”
Sirius takes a deep breath, his eyes not leaving his brother, “You sure?”
“Positively, there's probably some clothes in James's room you can borrow. I'll be in my study if you need anything.”
Sirius gives a curt nod as he pushes off the doorway, giving regulus’s shoulder an affectionate squeeze as he moves past regulus down the hallway. Regulus doesnt turn around until the steps finally stop at what he assumes is James's room. He walks quietly to his study, careful not to step on any of the many creaky floorboards that are between his study and James's room. Within a matter of seconds after stepping inside, Regulus closes the doors to the study, casting a quick charm to light his candles and fireplace before sitting down in the large chair at his desk with a sigh.
“I need to write.” mutters regulus to no one in particular, before staying true to his word and pulling out a new piece of parchment from his desk, and pulling the nearby pot of ink and quill closer to him. His publisher had sent him a letter reminding Regulus of the approaching deadline the night before James had arrived, but at the time he was feeling a bit uninspired, and a lack of inspiration was not something good for an author on a deadline.
Luckily for regulus, inspiration just seemed to appear on his doorstep.
Regulus reaches for the quill beside him, and holds it above the parchment for a solid minute before deciding what to title his newest work. It comes to him shortly thereafter, and soon regulus finds himself writing, something he didn't know he missed this much. He writes for a solid 3 minutes, before finally stopping. Depositing the quill back into the pot he picks up the parchment bringing it closer to his face so he can read the words in the dim lighting.
“The house on the hill
By Arcturus Raven
I often dream
Of the house on the hill
Its walls blue like the sea
I often find it calling to me.
Within i find a home
With pictures on the walls,
Toys on the floor, shoes by the door
A waiting, empty bed.
I someday wish to find the house
Its location is a blur
But it feels like home
It feels like my home,
I think it feels like you.
But you’re not there
When I dream
You're still not there
When I wake
Yet it feels like you,
The house on the hill,
With its doors the color
Of sand
And I dream of it,
When I think of you,
Hoping that when I find it
You'll be waiting within.”
Regulus sets the parchment down softly, leaning back into his chair slowly. Oftentimes when he lets his emotions take the pen for him he is surprised at the results. Not at the fact that he’s come up with something, that is, more of the fact that there is a surprising amount of clarity in his words, one he wouldn't normally expect when writing. Usually when this is the case, Regulus likes to read what he's done once more. He gets to the third stanza before he is interrupted by a knock on the door. “Come in.” he says absentmindedly, “Is everything okay?”
It's not Sirius's voice who answers, “I dunno, you tell me.”
Regulus sets down the parchment and looks up, eyes landing on James who is standing in the doorway. He quickly vanishes the parchment to a hidden drawer in his desk, before looking back up at James, who is still standing in the doorway, hands buried deep in the pockets of his trousers. Regulus can't tell if James is sad, or angry, or both, but he has no doubt he’s about to find out. Though Regulus fears that with how he’s currently feeling James may not like how he responds, but that's a problem for the Regulus of tomorrow. Sighing, he pulls a cigarette out of a drawer, lighting it and taking a deep breath before answering James, “I’m perfectly fine.”
James steps inside all the way, closing the doors behind him, and continuing to stare regulus down. “I don't think you are tough.”
“And how would you know that James?”
James throws his arms up in the air, “Because I just do! I know you Regulu-”
“No, James.” says regulus, cutting James off sharply, “You knew me James. You knew who I was years ago. But you don't know me now. I've changed. We both have.”
James’s breath hitches in his throat, realizing that regulus is feeling rather unfiltered at the moment, nevertheless, he decides to take the bait, “I know we’ve changed, we’ve changed a lot. And you're right, so enlighten me, let me in on who you are now.”
Regulus stares at James for a moment, lifting his cigarette to his mouth, breathing in, and exhaling before replying, “I don't know if I want to do that James.”
“And what would your reason be for that?”
“Well,” responds Regulus coldly, “Part of me thinks that you lost the right to truly know who I am the first time you left.”
James scoffs, “I never left you regulus, i was the one who told you to come to wales, remember? That was your choice.”
Regulus stares at James blankly, “That wasn't the first time James.”
“Well when was it then?” says James with a frustrated tone in his voice
“I’d say it was the night you left me crying in the library in fourth year.”
James, who looked like he was about to scream at regulus, seemed to have all the air leave his lungs. He hadn't thought about that. He didn't want to think about that. But now, Regulus was giving him no other option than to think about it. James took a deep breath in, “I don’t remember you crying.”
“Of course you don't,” replies regulus, “You were in too much of a hurry to get to Hogsmeade.” Regulus watches James, waiting for a reply, when he doesn't get one he continues, “you went with Lily that day, did you not?”
James fights the urge to turn his eyes to the ground, but he can't pretend that he doesn't feel the slight stinging within them. Taking a shaky breath, he focuses his gaze on Regulus, “you never told me you cried.”
“Why would I?” whispers regulus, “You never came back looking for me.” A slight stinging can be felt in regulus’s eyes as well. But he can't let it show. No, right not now he is not James’s reggie. He is regulus black, heir to the house of black. He is strong, steady, and relentless, he is everything that the boy James used to call Reggie could ever be.
“I’m sorry.” replies James, with a whisper.
“For what?” responds regulus, his voice unfaltering.
“For not coming back sooner,” says James. And he means it, he really does, but there's nothing he could say to change how Regulus feels at the moment, and if James were in Regulus's shoes, he would probably feel the same.
“I am too James. Maybe if you had, things could've been different.” says regulus quietly.
They still could be, He thinks to himself. Not daring to say it.
“They still could be.” mutters James.
Regulus feels his breath catch in his throat, of course James would dare to say it. Proving himself ever the Gryffindor. Regulus takes a deep breath before standing up. “Maybe.” he breathes out, “But not tonight James. Not tonight.”
James’s hands manage to find their way back into his trousers, trousers that regulus recognizes as an old pair of his. But he can't think about the meaning of that right now, that's something to think about in the morning. So instead Regulus stares into James's dark brown eyes, which seem to be a bit wet as James blinks before replying.
“Okay. not tonight is fine." James spits out, barely covering the shaking of his voice. “I’ll see you in the morning.”
James turns around quickly, leaving the study and heading for the guest room, promptly shutting the door behind him. Regulus remains unmoving behind his desk, taking in the last few drags of his cigarette before putting it out in the ashtray on his desk. He waves his hand silently, making the candles and fireplace extinguish themselves before heading for his own room, where he undresses in silence before climbing into bed. It is only once his head hits his pillow that the hollowness hits him, and it's only when a choked sob escapes his throat that he can hear the sound of soft crying coming from a room nearby. A room occupied by none other than James.
In another life, maybe they would have been crying together. Wrapped in the sheets of one bed, just the two of them in each others arms, sobbing for only the other to hear. And when they would be finished with that maybe they would fall asleep in each others arms, much like they used to do in the library of Hogwarts years ago.
But that’s not this life. In this one they sat in separate rooms, separated by drywall, tears falling both because of each other and for one another. And in this life they wont stop crying, the tears will continue to fall silently until both are asleep and the tears can no longer fall. In this life they're alone, and the hollowness that they once used to fight by finding comfort in each other consumes them.
Yet none of it matters, because they're not together, in this moment and in every other moment, separated by much more than a wall, with the only comfort they have being that they know both find themselves sobbing alone for reasons they both share.