Chapter 6
Regulus had been home for three days of seven. Christmas was quickly approaching, each day dragging on longer and longer. The more time he spent, nervous up in his room, the slower the days seemed to move.
Something was up. Something was obviously up. His mother had been being nice these past few days.
Well, he didn’t know if he could say she was nice exactly, but she hadn’t yelled at him a single time, and he hadn’t been reprimanded or even punished for dropping his cup the other night. Nerves had made it slip between his embarrassingly sweaty hands, causing it to shatter on the ground. He had cast a glance towards his mother, frozen in his spot, and she had simply cast a reversal spell, telling him to stop standing incompetent and bring over the drinks.
Not even a curse thrown his way.
She was plotting, planning, waiting. That’s what she always did. The worse the punishment, the longer she made him wait, until eventually his stomach twisted so tightly he couldn’t force a single bite of food.
So that’s what he did, he waited, because he knew his mother, and he knew this wasn’t just nothing. He knew to not expect a happy, joyful Christmas, like other families were probably enjoying right now.
Like what Sirius was probably enjoying right now.
Like what James was probably enjoying right now.
He reaches into his pocket, fingers sliding over the rough feeling of parchment. He slips it out again, unfolding it for the hundredth time and sliding his eyes over it as if he didn’t already have it memorized.
In case you’re to change your mind, Reg;
Potters Manor
Gwinderwald Road
62987
Hope to see you there :)
P.S Merry Christmas, Reg, and I know you said they aren’t joyful for you, but I hope this time may be different.
He flushes slightly, running his thumb over the slightly smeared ink. There were lines that weren’t fully readable, and looked to have been scribbled out. Even those, in a weird way, warmed his heart. It made him feel more safe.
James had given it to him, before they boarded the train. He had shoved it into his hand, cheeks slightly flushed from running over, and leaned into him, putting his lips to his ear.
“I’ll see you soon, Reggie,” he had left before Regulus could reply, or have time to realize how close James had gotten before he was gone again. He hadn’t even gotten a word out.
At the sudden clicking of his mothers heels, he shoves the note into the bedsheets he was sitting on, rolling over onto his back and holding his breath as he pulls the covers above his shoulders.
There’s a click as the door squeaks open, and a slight pause. Regulus doesn’t even dare to peek out his eyelashes as he forces himself to relax into the bed. The door clicks shut again a moment later, and he lets out a small sigh. When he opens his eyes, his mother is standing in front of the door, a cruel smile on her face.
“Regulus, I’ll be waiting downstairs for you. I expect you down in no less than five minutes.”
James laid on his bed, twirling a sugar quill between his fingers as he fidgets. Sirius had left his room hunting for food, so he had more time to think.
He wonders if Regulus has read his note.
He wonders if he had thought about it.
He wonders if he had thrown it directly into the fire, rolling his eyes at the absurdity James offered.
He wants to write again, send him another letter to know if he even considered the possibility, but he knew better. He knew the trouble Sirius got into once, when he had sent one letter that got intercepted by his mother.
But still, he couldn’t help it. He wanted to help Regulus. Wanted to see him and make sure he was safe.
Because he was Sirius’ little brother, and he wanted to help out Sirius, of course.
He thought over what he had written, for the hundredth time, and had it memorized in his head. He shouldn’t have written that P.S. Should've just kept it at the address. Should he have kept the line saying he couldn’t wait to see him again, or was it good he had crossed that out? He thinks that may have come off too strong, but he also wanted Regulus to know that he was waiting for him, that someone cared and expected him back.
The door bangs open, and he flinches up, meeting the eyes with a confused Sirius.
“What?” He asks, voice muffled from a cookie. James gives him a grin, shaking his head out.
He was sure Regulus was fine, and everything would turn out well. He would see him in less than four days, it was all good. Everything was okay.
“Regulus,” his mother greets, and Regulus nervously dips his head in a bow, smoothing his face out from any emotion; seeming scared would do him no good.
“Mother, how can I be of service?”
“Oh, don’t be so stiff, Regulus. Sit, talk with your mommy,” she raises a teacup in her right hand, the other one holding the small plate below it. His mind was blanking out on the name of it, after so much learning and studying of properness, fear had sent his knowledge tumbling out his ears.
He sits, shoulders stiff against the back of the couch, and his mother takes a long sip from the teacup, gazing at him over it.
She sets it down after a long, quiet moment, the only noise the ticking of the grandfather clock behind them.
“Have you been eating more while away? You’re gaining weight.”
“No, mother,” he replies, surprised he could hold the tremble from his voice.
“You look like a walrus.”
He tries not to cringe at the words, keeping his expression neutral as she gazes at him, face passive.
“You haven’t been sending your mother many letters. Any reason for that?”
“No, mother. Not much to talk about while I was away. I’ll make sure to write more often, my apologies.”
“Not much to write about, are you sure of that, Regulus?” She leans forward, brows pinched, and it was now that Regulus could see the anger contained behind her eyes, her fingers clenched into her skirt.
“N-no, mother,” he tries to swallow, but finds his mouth is dry.
“I was informed that you were being tutored. Is that not interesting enough to tell your dear mother, Regulus?” She sneers, and he finds his shoulders relaxing slightly, even under the scrutiny. He knew this would be enough to get him a good punishment, but at least she didn’t know of the other thing. His arm tingles under his sleeve, and he brushes a thumb across it without thinking. Her eyes follow the movement.
“I apologize mother. I did not wish to disappoint you. My grades are going up by much-” He cries out from sudden pain, toppling off the couch. The table flies out of the way, thudding against the wall, and the teacup smashes onto the ground, shattering everywhere.
He sits up slowly, ignoring the pain that tells him to stop moving and instead tries to stop the trembling of his mouth. Even after all this, his mother sits calmly on the couch, arm extended.
“You useless, infuriating child! I have not raised a stupid, foolish boy, have I? HAVE I? Has all this time gone to waste? Was it all lost in your thick head?” She screams, and another spark of pain filters through him. He collapses back onto the floor, wrapping his arms around his stomach.
“No, no Maman! I promise, I promise,” he cries, not knowing exactly what he was promising.
The pain stops for a moment, and he hears the click of heels as she approaches.
He glances up, through his eyelashes into her eyes. She places a hand on his cheek, and he flinches slightly, which only makes her hand tighten on it.
“I understand, Regulus. I get it. You’re struggling, after your brother left you, is that it?” She asks, voice thick with sympathy, and he sits frozen, tears glued to his lashes.
“Maman…”
“It’s just, I didn’t think both my children had turned out to be incompetent. Stupid. Useless,” her finger tightens on his cheek, and he winces, trying not to pull away.
He sniffs as she backs away, trying not to look surprised at the sudden departure. She sits back on the couch, crossing her legs, and he stays kneeled on the ground, holding his breath.
“Regulus?”
“Yes, mother?” He asks desperately, glad the pain had stopped.
“Pull up your sleeve.”
Everything stops. The world, his breathing, even the ticking of the grand clock disappears into the background, drowned out by a loud roar in his ears. He couldn’t breath, not a single bout of air making it into his lungs as he stares forward.
Regulus was drowning.
“S-sorry? Mother?” His voice is limp, quiet, and she raises her eyebrow.
“Don’t make me ask again. Raise. Your. Shirt. Sleeve.”
When he doesn’t make a move to pull up his sleeve, she sneers, her demeanor cracking before his eyes.
She stands up, pacing in front of him, and now all he can hear is the constant clicking of her heels on the wooden floor.
Click Click Click Click. Back and forth as she paces.
Finally she stops directly in front of him, teeth bared, hand clenched around her wand.
“Someone kindly informed me of something else you’d been hiding from me, my dear son. Something that could affect this whole family, something that could destroy it.” Her voice is deadly quiet, and spots had begun to form in front of his eyes from the lack of air.
It takes him a moment to realize that even when he tries to breathe, he really, truly, can’t. His mothers hand tightens on her wand, and he doubles over, clawing at his throat desperately.
She kneels down next to him, tutting.
“When did you become so disobedient? I hope you’re not taking after your brother, or we might have to take desperate measures.” She leans forward just as his face begins to turn red, snatching up his sleeve, and he finally lets out a gasp as a flurry of color bursts in his side view.
His mother goes quiet, only her heavy breathing being heard over his slight gasps. “I had hoped… maybe…” she lets out a small hiss, and her nails dig into it as he whimpers.
“Mother, please… I’m sorry, so sorry,” he pleads, but her nails dig farther as he cries out.
“Who’s is it, Regulus?” she whispers, and he shakes his head lightly. Bursts of light appear in front of his eyes as he screams, pain overtaking his entire body. Her nails dig deeper even still, and he sobs, trying to tug his arm away.
“I don’t know! I don’t know!” He begs, and she lets go, finally.
“You don’t know?” She seeths, bending down into his face, and he nods quickly, shaking.
“Please, Maman, I don’t know, I don’t,” he rambles off in french, tears falling from his eyes onto the floor.
His mother stands, pacing away from him, before letting out a small breath. She pinches the bridge of her nose, tisking.
“Okay, fine. It could be- it’s most likely a pureblooded girl from your school. Maybe she just got there, and it triggered the effect.” She mutters, and he nods along to her words, praying the pain is over.
“Okay. Okay,” she continues, closing her eyes as she pinches her nose harder. He blinks up at her as she slowly peels them open, giving him a small smile.
“Okay, Regulus, I believe you,” she soothes, and he relaxes into the legs of the couch, letting out a whimpering breath.
“But even so, Regulus. You know I cannot let this go unpunished, don’t you? It would only make you consider future bad behavior. You understand, sweetie, don’t you?”
He doesn’t have time to think about her words before she raises her wands, a cruel smile plastered to her face.
“Crucio.”
James clutches his arm, the burning feeling coming back tenfold as he winces, rubbing it softly. His mother glances over, worried, and he tries to give her a smile. It doesn’t work, of course, and she’s quick to walk over, softly grabbing his arm and pulling it up to see.
“Does it hurt?”
“Not that much,” he replies, trying to be casual, and she gives him a look as he lets out another wince.
“Hmm, strange. Maybe your soulmate got hurt? I’ll get some ointment, and we can see if that soothes it,” she pats his hand, and he gives her a genuine smile this time, though a small bit of panic seeped in.
Hurt? Was his soulmate hurt?
He gnaws on his bottom lip nervously, not noticing as his dad comes in and sets his hat on the coat hanger, making his way over to the kitchen with a grin and wave towards his son.
He hoped that whatever happened, it wasn’t too bad. They were probably fine, he told himself. Probably tripped, landed weird. They were okay. They were fine.
“Prongs!” Sirius bursts in, followed closely with Remus and Peter who hold up wrapped gifts. James shakes out his nervousness, giving them a grin as he bounds up.
They were fine.
Regulus can’t open his eyes.
Maybe he can, he doesn’t try though. They feel heavy, as if he hadn’t slept in years.
He recognizes the soft silk of his bedsheets, and he turns slightly, an ache running up his- well, his whole body. He whimpers, and there's a crack beside his head.
“Master Regulus! You’re awake! Master Regulus is awake!” A small voice sings joyfully, and Regulus peels his eyes open, wishing he could muster enough strength to raise his arms and wipe the crust from them. Dry tears stuck to his cheeks, and his nose was stuffed.
He focuses on Kreacher, or as much as he can focus with the blur in his eyes; the world is still going in and out of focus.
He tries to get words out, to say he desperately needs water, but his voice doesn’t come to him, and his throat makes a weird cracking noise that throws him into a coughing fit. It shakes his body and causes even his bones to ache.
“Master Regulus shouldn’t talk! Please! Oh, Kreacher will get master Regulus water, yes yes.” There's a crack, and then another one, and he’s holding a cup to Regulus’ lips, forcing him to down the contents. He spits it back up slightly, choking on it on the way down.
“I should get medicine, Kreacher will be right back!”
“Kreacher,” Regulus' voice croaks out, and Kreacher immediately whips around, his large ears smacking him in the face. He nervously grabs them from his face, tugging.
“Master Regulus should not be talking!” He repeats, and Regulus shakes his head lightly.
“Kreacher, how long have I been out?” He whispers, because that was all he could achieve.
Kreacher's eyes nervously dart back and forth as he tugs his ears down once more. “Twodaysmasterregulus.”
Regulus blinks, mouth parting. “Pardon?”
“Two days! Master Regulus was out for two days!” Kreacher cries, shielding his eyes. Regulus blinks, before letting out a low breath. His body feels brittle, like it was close to breaking any moment. He wonders if he even had the strength to get up.
Two days. He was asleep for two days.
Two more days until he went back to Hogwarts. Two more days until he gets out of this house.
Regulus dismisses Kreacher quietly, denying him needing medicine. He shifts back into his bed, a low noise escaping his throat, and a small crinkle to his left grabs his attention.
He moves his hand, very slowly and gently, and wraps his hand around a piece of parchment. He shifts into a sitting position, wincing, and unfolds the paper, eyes searching the familiar words.
P.S Merry Christmas, Reg, and I know you said they aren’t joyful for you, but I hope this time may be different.
That was right. Christmas had passed.
Christmas was over, he had missed christmas.
He was surprised at the onslaught of tears that brimmed in his eyes. He didn’t even like Christmas, so it really wasn’t a bad thing, not really, but something in him cracked.
It’s not like he had promised James he would have a good Christmas this year. Sure, James had asked him to, but that didn’t mean he had to.
This was stupid, what he was thinking was stupid. It didn’t matter if he missed Christmas, or James, because all he needed to do was survive. Survive this life, survive this house, survive this family.
He settles into his bed, still staring at the note. At the address.
If he left, he wouldn’t have to survive, not anymore. He’d be able to just live.
He lets out a snort, rolling his eyes as he wipes his tears. Please, if he left, everything would get worse for everyone. His mother would go after him and the Potters. Not to mention the fact that him staying here wasn’t for himself. It was for Sirius, so they wouldn’t bring him back.
He crumbles the note into his fist, letting out another breath as he slips back into unconsciousness.
The next day, the last day, his mother summons him downstairs. He can feel himself shaking slightly as he makes his way downstairs, still not fully healed.
“Regulus,” she greets, eyes cold, and he stands still, nodding his head in return.
“Mother,” he replies softly, eyes following her move. Watching her every shift, every slight movement.
“Your father summoned you. He’s in his office.” She says, voice passive. Even so, she was tense, which immediately forces his shoulders upright, his face twitching in fear.
His father?
His father never summoned him. Sometimes Regulus thinks he was trying to forget Regulus existed,pretend he didn’t get stuck with his least favorite son.
“Well? Get on with it!” She snaps, and he stumbles over his feet slightly, making his way to the office. He drags his toes, trying to steady himself before going in.
When he steps inside, his father does not turn away from his work. He continues to scribble away at his paperwork.
“Regulus,” He greets coldly, and he finally swivels away, and Regulus has to force a flinch down.
“Father,” he replies, ducking his head in return.
“Your mother informed me of your little… situations.” He says, tapping his finger onto the arm of his seat. Regulus has to force his eyes away from the tapping, staring at his fathers forehead.
He couldn’t meet eyes.
“Potter, was it?”
Regulus physically feels his heart leap into his throat, choking him, and he waits for his father to continue, scared to give his input.
“That's your tutor?” Regulus is still stiff, but he gives a nod nonetheless, letting out a small sigh.
“I hope you two aren’t getting too close.”
“Of course not, Father.”
“We can’t have another… situation on our hands.”
“Of course not, father.”
Orion stares at him, steady and cold, and Regulus inconspicuously wipes his hands on his trousers. Even so, Orion's eyes follow the movement.
“Let me see your arm.”
When Regulus hesitates, he sighs, putting his glasses on the table.
“Now, boy.” Regulus stumbles forward, holding his arm out, and Orion inspects it.
He turns around, pulling something that resembles a stamp from his drawer.
“This is a big disappointment, you understand, Regulus?” Regulus furtively nods his head, and his father gives him a short look.
“Of course you do. Even if your brother was stronger, and smarter, you were always so obedient, weren’t you, boy?” That stings, and Regulus swallows, glancing down at the floor.
“Of course you would never purposely disobey us, would you? But even so, of course this cannot go unpunished,” Regulus snaps his head up, throat dry.
“Mother- she already-”
“Yes, I heard of what Walburga did, but a punishment like that will do nothing. It was hardly a punishment, more like a warning,” he dismisses, and Regulus is nauseous, the feeling of bile rising up in his throat.
No no no no.
“Hand me your arm, boy.”
No no no no.
“Now.”
He couldn’t breath, couldn’t move, but even so, his arm rose slowly.
His father brings the stamp up, and Regulus holds his breath.
“Remember, Regulus. We do this for you.” His voice is monotone, dead. Not an ounce of pity or sympathy, not even the act his mother would put on.
He brings it down, pressing it to the mark, and Regulus chokes out a gasp, before he’s screaming, writhing. He tries to pull his arm away, but his father only holds it harder, nails biting into his skin.
He begs and pleads and screams, oh he screams, but his father doesn’t even seem to hear him.
It feels like hours, days, a lifetime has passed when he removes it, and Regulus immediately rocks back on his feet, crying.
His father doesn’t spare him a second glance, putting his glasses back on as he turns back to his work.
“You’re dismissed, boy.” Regulus lets out a choked noise of gratefulness, stumbling towards the door. He can’t raise his arm, but it doesn’t matter, because he uses his other one, snapping the door open. He clicks it shut behind him, stumbling to the hall. As soon as he’s out of his fathers office, he pukes, retching onto the fancy carpet below his feet. His mother rushes over to him, but she doesn’t chastise him.
He’s surprised when all she does is summon Kreacher and perform a cleaning spell.
Kreacher brings him to his room, and he doesn’t even make it to his bed before the world tilts, and he collapses on the floor.
He’s awoken what feels like moments later, but the sun has just started to rise, and he realizes it’s the next day.
Kreacher is standing nervously in front of him, tugging at his arm.
“Master Regulus, Mistress Walburga says you must get up! She says the train will leave soon.”
The train. Hogwarts. It was time to go back to school.
He doesn’t know if he can stand, doesn’t know if he can stomach it, but he lets Kreacher tug him to his feet anyways.
“Kreacher has packed Master Regulus’ bags! Master is ready to go!” He says, eyes misty.
Regulus can only muster a nod, blinking back the dots surrounding him.
His mother is waiting at the bottom of the stairs, levitating his suitcase. He knew it wasn’t to be nice, but because he physically could not carry it.
He glances down at his arm, tugging at his sleeve, and he feels sick when he sees the disgusting red blisters covering it, blooming just under the colors.
He has to hold back tears, lip trembling, and he lets out a small noise of pain as he follows his mother.
She glares at him once they make it to the Hogwarts express, dropping his suitcase with a thud.
“I expect you will behave this time, of course.”
He glances up at her, eyes void. He felt dead, looked dead.
“Of course, Mother.”