Shattered Ice
“So what even happened to him?” Pandora said sympathetically the next morning, patting Regulus awkwardly on the shoulder from her curled up position on the library couch. The library was warm and orangely lit, smelling of fresh ink and dusty books, and Regulus and Pandora were lazily doing homework and catching up, a weekly ritual of theirs.
“I don't even know--” Regulus sighed, tilting his head back against the couch and pinching the bridge of his nose. “--got hit by a bludger, I think.”
He left out the conversation he had overheard Saturday night between Mulciber and Rudolphus Lestrange, which confirmed his suspicions that James’s injury had indeed been an intended foul on Slytherin's part. Rudolphus had caught Regulus staring, and privately pulled him aside and warned him not to tell a soul, or there would be “consequences”. Regulus had felt physically sick, but nodded, all while envisioning James’s motionless body lying on the ground.
“and then you caught the snitch…” said Pandora, looking at him pityingly.
“I don't know why!” Regulus groaned. “I wasn't trying to win or take advantage or anything-it was just an instinct and…” he trailed off, staring at Pandora desperately.
“I believe you.” she said soothingly. “I know he seemed mad--”
“--more than mad.” Regulus broke in. “he looked at me like I was- I was a monster. Like until that moment he hadn't fully realized that I was a Slytherin, and a Black, and now he does and he will never see me the same again.”
Regulus said this all in one breath, and sat, panting slightly, looking at Pandora helplessly. He didn't know how to explain that James Potter was the only person who had ever treated him like he was brave, like he was good. Pandora gazed at him in a way that made Regulus think she might understand anyway.
“Why do you care so much about this, anyway.” she said finally. She didn't seem accusatory, but instead asked Regulus as if it were a question on a test, and she was curious to see how he would do. He paused, instinctively shutting down his emotions and emptying his expression. Pandora waited patiently.
“I don't-really” he said, looking down. She sighed.
“Reg, you know that's not true. You’ve been stressing over James Potter for the last two hours, you at least owe it to me to tell me why.”
“He’s Sirius’s friend--”
“No.” she interrupted. “I know you want Sirius to be proud of you-” she ignored his protesting sound. “--but you haven't mentioned your brother once. This is about James, Regulus.”
Regulus breathed in slowly, looking out the window at the sky that was finally clear and a pleasant shade of morning gray.
“I don't know,” he said again. “I don't care. I just didn't want to get in trouble with the Quidditch refs in case it was against the rules.”
Pandora let out a disappointed sigh, but didn't press it. Regulus buried his face in his book, trying to absorb the words of The Ten Greatest Wizards of All Time while playing Pandora’s words over and over in his head.
This is about James .
It wasn't bloody about anything.
“I think you should apologize.” Pandora said suddenly, after about ten minutes of silence where Regulus had determinedly avoided eye contact. He whipped his head up, mouth open.
“What? No. What would I say?”
“What you feel.” Pandora said with a shrug. A sharp wave of terror passed over Regulus, although he wasn't sure why.
“Absolutely not.”
“Just that you’re sorry.” She persisted, imploring him with her large silver eyes.
“I don't think he cares for an apology.”
“I think you’d be surprised.”
“No.” Regulus said finally, looking back down at his book, oddly flustered. Pandora leaned back, her smile now mischievous.
“Ok, then.” she said lightly. “Carry on in your dark little cloud, since you ‘don't care’ about this at all.”
Regulus didn't reply.
“James will go on thinking you waited till he was injured to win…”
Regulus still didn't say anything, but the idea had already been planted in his mind. His brow furrowed.
“You really think it would help?”
Pandora nodded.
“James Potter, from what little interaction I've had with him, sees the good in everybody, no matter how bad. He is probably dying for a reason to forgive you, to convince himself that you aren't a bad person, Reg.”
“I'm not.” Regulus said defensively. “I just told you it was an accident--”
“I know you aren't.” Pandora said gently. Regulus was again struck by how well she could read James, and everyone else for that matter, like a book. He stroked the spine of his book thoughtfully.
“Maybe.” Regulus said eventually. Pandora said nothing, but gave him a small smile and returned to her essay.
Regulus found himself putting off the apology for another month. Each morning, he would wake up and try to goad himself into doing it, just going up to James and asking him how he was feeling, saying that he hadn't meant to hurt him. Each morning, however, he would see James from afar in the Great Hall and know that he wouldn't have the courage. The time slipped by frighteningly fast, and soon the air became crisp again, the leaves turned a pleasant shade of orange and littered the ground, and students began to wear scarves and woolen coats when going outdoors.
Regulus hadn't spoken to James once. On a crisp November morning, he ran into Remus Lupin in the library, who gave him a dirty look and brushed past him, leaving Regulus feeling oddly defeated. He spoke to Sirius a couple weeks later, when their mother sent a letter to the school warning that their grades must be excellent and their behavior respectable if they were to expect to come home for Christmas. Regulus had clutched the letter with sweaty palms, re-reading it in his bed and going over every assignment he had completed since the school year started, trying to pick out any substandard grades. He hadn't needed to worry much, though. School had continued to be shockingly easy, as the muggle-borns were finally coming into their skills with magic and Regulus was forced to perform elementary hexes with ease as they struggled next to him. Regulus caught Sirius glancing at the letter once, and then crumpling it up with a look of disgust and tossing it in the nearest waste bin.
“You should cut your hair before we see her again.” Regulus had hissed to him, walking up beside him in the hallway. Sirius didn't miss a beat, or need to ask who Regulus was talking about.
“She can bloody deal with it.” he said through gritted teeth.
“No.” Regulus replied sharply. “She won't.” Sirius grunted angrily and stode ahead. Regulus sped up to catch up with him.
“I'm trying to look out for you, Sirius,” he pleaded. Like you never look out for me . Sirius didn't look at him, staring ahead with a set jaw and stony eyes.
“I don't need you to.”
“Somebody has to--”
“No.” Sirius snapped. “They don't. Go away, Regulus.”
Regulus stopped and Sirius kept walking, farther and farther away from him. The sting of his brother's words stabbed over and over at him. He stared helplessly at Sirius’s retreating figure.
Go away Regulus .
Fine. Regulus thought. When their mother chops off Sirius’s precious hair, and probably does worse, he'll find nothing but savage pleasure.
No, a little voice inside him whispered. You won't.
“Shut up.” Regulus muttered to himself, turning into the potions classroom for his next class. A third year looked at him oddly; Regulus sighed.
It wasn't until early december that Regulus gathered the courage to finally speak to James. The older boy hadn't been avoiding him, exactly, but instead just seems to have forgotten Regulus’s existence all together. Regulus wasn't sure which would have hurt more; James’s anger or his cold dismissal. His hands were almost shaking, stomach twisting in nerves, when he waited outside the Great Hall with steely determination. Students brushed past him in a mob leaving the Hall after breakfast, and Regulus stood firmly, praying James would appear soon before he lost his nerve. It was now or never, Regulus reasoned. If this went badly, he would never have to speak to the Gryffindor boy again. His stomach dropped at the prospect, and Regulus pushed back the feeling, not wanting to figure out why.
Finally, James appeared, thankfully not with Sirius or Remus or even the small blond boy, who Regulus has since discovered was named Peter Pettigrew. He was alone, nose buried in a letter almost a foot long, slightly lagging behind the rest of his house.
There wasn't going to be a better opportunity. Regulus counseled himself. Just do it now. He took a step forward in James' direction, but just as he was about to speak, James looked up away from him and spotted Sirius, who was hanging back by the entrance. James hurried over to him, and knowing that if he didn't do it now he probably never would, Regulus crept after him, standing slightly behind the doors to the entrance hall where the two boys couldn't see him. James and Sirius had their heads bent together, talking rapidly about something Regulus could hear.
Just wait till Sirius leaves . Regulus told himself. But he had to admit he was curious as to what they were talking about.
“Come on, Sirius.” James said loudly, his voice sounding annoyed and desperate. Regulus’s ears perked. “You can't go back there.”
Regulus couldn't see Sirius’s expression, but he heard his brother sigh and scuff his feet on the floor.
“I have to.” Sirius said.
“No, you don't. Come stay with me for winter break. They can't hurt you if you're at my house.”
“You don't get it, James.” replied Sirius, his voice raising.
“No, but I don't get why you go back there every year !”
“I have no choice.”
“Yes, you do. You just refuse to see it.”
Sirius was silent for a long while. Regulus felt like ice was slowly growing from his stomach, chilling his writhing nerves into numbness. Cold dread slithered down his throat.
“What about Regulus?” Sirius said eventually. Regulus stilled, thinking he could hear his heart beating. His chest squeezed painfully.
James let out a sigh.
“Leave him there, Sirius. You said it yourself, he’s on their side. You can't save him.”
Regulus thought the world might have stopped and slowed, spinning around his head.
“I can't leave him there alone with my parents.”
“Well…” James stopped, sounding distraught. “He's one of them, isn't he? He’ll be alright. But if you stay…you won't.”
Regulus wanted to scream. He wanted to run out and grab Sirius and shake him by the shoulders, telling him not to leave him alone. He wanted to sob that he wasn't like them, to not give up on him just yet. But he couldn't move, his body was stock still and listening to the conversation helplessly, his screams trapped behind his frozen lips.
“I guess…maybe you're right.” Sirius said slowly, his voice breaking.
No, no, no.
The same boy who had held him when he cried, told him stories when he was scared, played Quidditch with him for countless hours in the backyard, made fun of Kreacher and ranted about their mother, he was leaving him. No, he was being stolen. Regulus thought hysterically. His big brother was being stolen by the hazel eyed Gryffindor with kind words and a contagious smile. James was standing just feet away from him, so perfectly whole, and taking the only person Regulus had ever loved.
Don't leave me, Sirius. He pleaded silently. I need you. But Sirius couldn't hear him, couldn't see him, but stood with a torn expression on his face, looking at James like he had offered him a way out.
“I'll think about it.” Sirius said finally. But Regulus could hear the hope in his voice, and he felt like he was falling. Deep down, where that light in Sirus’s eyes could never reach him. The hope he would never get to feel. Instead, he’ll feel his mothers sharp words and his fathers disappointment, the cold dismissal and lonely nights spent staring at the sky wishing he was someone else.
“Please don't take him,” he whispered. So silently, barely a breath passed his lips, but James stilled, cocking his head in Regulus’s direction.
“Did you hear that, mate?” James asked. Regulus found that he hated the sound of the other boy's voice, and hated how much he had liked it before.
“No.” said Sirius, sounding tired. “Let's go, James.”
James cast one final look at the Great Hall before turning to walk away with Sirius, not once looking back. When the two older boys had vanished, and that hall was echoing silent and empty, Regulus stepped out from where he was hiding slowly, moving like his body might crack if he stepped too hard.
He was not going to cry.
Regulus knew this fact as well as he knew that ice was creeping around his heart again, this time thicker and stronger and hard enough that nobody could break it. Frost crept over his cheeks, drawing imaginary tear tracks and freezing his face over into a dead expression, beautiful and still.
The boy stood alone in the Great Hall, tears refusing to run, staring into space as if searching desperately for something that he knew he couldn't find. The ice finally crept into his eyes, and his stare became blank. Regulus sighed in relief. The pain was gone, replaced with sweet, cold, nothing.