It hurts.
There’s a burning in his forearm.
The burn spreads, from his forearm down to his fingertips, up to his arm, shoulder, neck. The burning is in his head now, filling his nose, ears, and eyes. He can’t see, he can’t breathe.
It hurts. So much. He’s close. Close enough to feel the burn in his arm. It’s a warning. He’s close and he’s giving you a warning.
Just wake up. If he wakes up the burning stops.
Please, please, please, please.
Wake up.
He can’t wake up.
Please wake up. I’m here, you’re okay, I’m here. Wake up.
Regulus Black wakes in a mess of sweat soaked sheets, the linen tangled around his legs, his chest. It’s suffocating him.
There’s something solid and warm pressed against his back. Regulus experiences the simultaneous urges to lean back into the warmth and push away from it.
He finds himself doing both.
There’s a voice close to his ear, quiet, whispering quick words.
Regulus pushes himself backwards, away from the outside threat, into the warmth.
“You’re awake, you’re okay. It was just a dream. I’m here, you’re okay.”
The feeling of strong arms around his chest breaks through his panicked mind. The arms brace him against the solid warmth behind him. Strangely enough, while the sheets feel constricting, the arms feel comforting.
A choked breath escapes Regulus’ trembling limps. He gasps for air, breathing in the cold, crisp air of the night. Arms are still around his chest, pinning his arms to his side. Regulus gets a vivid sense of déjà vu.
Slowly, ever so very slowly, Regulus calms down. His breathing resumes a normal speed, his body relaxes, the tension leaking from his muscles. The heat behind him seems to soak it all up. After a while, a familiar voice breaks the silence.
“Regulus?”
He turns at the sound of his name, the sound of the voice that whispered it. Husky at this time of night, gentle and careful, ever so sweet to his ears. Regulus moves slowly, and the arms around him loosen as he rearranges.
James Potter holds him so gently, as though he’s made from fine glass and would shatter from too harsh of a breath. Regulus secretly thinks he might.
A tanned hand cups his cheek, so soft, ready to pull back at a seconds notice. Regulus lets himself lean into it. James wipes a tear from Regulus’ cheek with his thumb.
“You’re okay,” he whispers, eyes unfocused in the dark and from his lack of glasses. He sounds as though he’s convincing himself. “You’re here, with me, and you’re safe.”
Regulus nods and feels another tear spill from his eye. He, rather ungracefully, moulds his body to James’. His skin is slick with cold sweat, hair sticking to his forehead and tears smeared across red cheeks. Frankly, he feels disgusting.
But James wraps his arms around him without a moment of hesitation. He lets Regulus burry his face into the crook of his neck, lets his skinny arms lock themselves around James’ broad chest.
Regulus inhales a deep, stuttering breath, breathing in James.
It grounds him. It always has. That smell of earth and trees, sweat and musk, home, and warmth, and James, James, James.
They stay like this for a while. Two lovers, holding onto the other like a lifeline. James’ hands moves to caress Regulus’ back, following the curve of his spine, tracing hip to hip, and back up, where he cups the nape of his neck, bringing him even closer.
Regulus presses a soft kiss into James’ skin, the juncture where his neck meets his shoulder.
“Je suis désolé d'être comme ça,” he whispers against soft, salty skin.
James sighs fondly into Regulus’ hair. “Sorry, didn’t catch that.”
“I’m sorry,” Regulus breathes, holding himself so close to the man he loves.
“What on earth are you apologising for?”
James feels the turn of Regulus’ lips against his shoulder, a sad smile. “For being like this. For… keeping you trapped in the past with me.”
“I’m not trapped,” James whispers instantly. “I’m here by choice. And I don’t resent you for any of it. I’m here because I love you and because I want to be here for you.”
“Are you here to wake up to me screaming every night?” Regulus challenges softly.
James’ fingers creep from Regulus’ neck to his hair, fingers combing through the damp knots. “You’re nightmares barely make up who you are as a person. I’m here for everything.” James kisses the top of his head. “I’m here for the way you kick me out of bed to make you tea, and for the way you pull me down to kiss me. I’m here for the stubborn mornings, and the difficult nights. I’m here for the nightmares and the daydreams, and every damn thing in between.”
“Je ne te mérite pas.”
James ignores him completely, neither understanding the words nor listening. “I love you. And I’m here for you. That is my choice and I never want you to think that I’m here for any reasons other than because I want to be.”
Before he could go on, Regulus untucks his head from the safety of James’ neck and presses a kiss to his mouth.
James melts under Regulus’ touch. He kisses him back carefully, always careful with Regulus, in a way that threatens to cause another round of tears from Regulus.
The smaller man lifts a hand to hold James’ cheek, as gentle as James always is with him, trying to convey how grateful he is through that simple touch.
“Je vous aime aussi,” Regulus whispers against his lips. “Toujours.”
And he kisses James, knowing he loves and is loved.
James is the first to break the kiss. After some time of course. But then he’s pressing soft kisses to the side of Regulus’ mouth, going across his cheek. One last peck and Regulus leans back to watch James. At some point Regulus had rolled himself onto James, resting his weight on his lover. James never complained. He loves it. Says Regulus is like a human blanket.
“Merci mon amour,” Regulus whispers, tucking a dark curl behind James’ ear. A tanned hand threads its fingers through his own, bringing Regulus hand to James’ lips as he presses a kiss to the back of his palm. Even without his glasses, and with only the moon lightly the room, James sees the way Regulus’ cheeks flush a darling shade of pink.
For the first time since waking, Regulus glances at the clock beside their bed. 3:56am. It’s an old clock James had received as a gift from Sirius, that ticked rather obnoxiously. Regulus once said they should get rid of it. James argued that the ticking reminded him of Hogwarts. They’d come to an agreement that, as James always fell asleep before him, Regulus was allowed to cast a silencing spell on the thing once James was out.
The thing is silent now, seconds ticking by with no sound. It’s early, too early for any sane person to be awake. But Regulus feels the dried sweat on his skin, the greasy curls that brush the back of his neck. He grimaces.
“James would you…”
James brushes Regulus’ curls off his face.
“I need a shower,” Regulus murmured. “Could you—”
“Yes.”
After all this time, no matter how many times James had done it, Regulus is still anxious to ask, afraid that one say James still say ‘no’. He lets out a deep breath.
“Thank you.”
James only nods in understanding.
Regulus moves off of James, sitting on the edge of the bed as he waits for James to get up. Regulus leads the way to the bathroom with James trailing just behind, already blabbing on about something insignificant, filling the silence.
See, during the war, when Regulus had been a spy for the Order, he had to ‘commit’ to the dark side, or he would have been transparent. Everyone would have seen who he was. So he committed. Regulus bore the Dark Mark like so many. Regulus went to meetings with other Death Eaters. Regulus spoke to Voldemort face to face.
And Regulus volunteered his house elf for a mission, one where Voldemort required a creature, something ‘not human’. When Kreature came home, Regulus demanded that he take him the same place he went with the Dark Lord.
There was no time for Regulus to alert anyone. Only by the time he had appeared by the cave with Kreature, did he realise he’d stumbled across one of the very horcruxes the Oder were looking for.
Regulus drank the potion Kreature showed him. It burned his mind, dragging every painful memory back to the surface. He screamed into the cavern and ordered Kreature to keeping making him drink. At some point during the pain, Regulus realised through a haze that there was nothing more to drink. With shaking hands he shoved the locket at the bottom of the basin into Kreature’s hands. He sent him away without a second thought.
Regulus’ throat had been achingly dry. It was the only thing he could focus on. Water. He needed water.
The rock formation was surrounded by water.
It was to this water that he crawled, shaking, sweating. He cupped his hands, desperate to drink.
And pale, slimy hand wrapped around his wrist.
Another gripped his forearm. One found the hair on the top of his head.
Regulus was under water in seconds.
His arms pushed desperately against the water and bodies. He pushed himself towards air. He kicked and thrashed and screamed but nothing happened. Hands gripped him too tightly, nails digging into his skin. And he was being pulled down.
The pressure was unbearable.
Through the stinging in his arms, the throbbing in his head, the way the surface was pulled further and further away from him, Regulus thought about James.
And then he was in James’ arms.
Later, when Regulus had just been let out of St Mungos, James told him how he’d asked Kreature to bringing him to the same place he took Regulus. Once he was on the rock, in the wild surf, James had used the most simple of summoning charms.
Regulus had declared James was lying.
“I’m not lying,” he said through a laugh at Regulus’ disbelief. “Maybe it was the powers of love that got you. All I said was accio and you were there.”
Now, James stands in their small bathroom, watching Regulus fill the tub with hot water. Boiling hot. Regulus can’t stand the cold water. In fact, Regulus can’t stand water.
He can drink it fine. The rain isn’t too bad. But he struggles with the rest.
James has been there every time Regulus has had a bath since St Mungos. Sometimes he sits outside the door and talks to him. Other times he’s in the room with him. Only on rare occasions are they ever in there together. The water and another person being so close is normally too much for Regulus.
Regulus turns off the tap and turns slowly to face James. The taller man cocks his head to the side, smiling slightly. “You want me outside?”
Regulus snorts quietly. “Sounds like you’re a dog.”
“Oh Sirius would love that.”
Huffing, Regulus pushes James towards the bath. “Just sit here,” he says, sitting James on the edge.
“Yes sir,” James says, wiggling his eyebrows.
Regulus smiles. The joking helps. He knows it is difficult for James to watch him breakdown from something as simple as water, but he’s always there for him, always able to crack a joke, no matter how inappropriate the timing seems. It helps.
As Regulus undresses, James starts talking about his weekend. Regulus steps into the bath, the hot water barely coming halfway up his calves.
“Sirius found a job I think. Don’t know why he did it really, Moody was totally willing to let us all stay on after the war. I don’t know how well a record shop pays. He might be fine. And Remus is still with the ministry, obviously, so they’ll be alright financially. Actually I think Remus is getting a promotion or like, a new mission? He’s got a new task with werewolves but not like the things Dumbledore was getting him to do…”
Regulus is still standing in the water. James’ rambling is good background noise for the roaring in his ears. Slowly, moving one muscle at a time, he lowers himself into the water, bracing his hands on the edge of the bath.
James so far has been talking to the wall, but once Regulus has sat down, he turns around a little. His gaze is on the floor as he speaks, but every now and then he glances up to Regulus.
The smaller man scrubs thoroughly at his skin. Tears prick his eyes, and his breathing is slow and measured. He’s holding off a panic attack. James keeps talking. Regulus keeps cleaning.
By the time Regulus is fully clean, James has started to grow tired. After noticing the lack of water moving, James stops talking and glances into the bath.
Regulus is sitting with his knees pulled up to his chest. His eyes are locked on the top left corner of the bathtub. His breathing is so soft.
“Regulus,” James whispers. “You still there, love?”
Regulus’ head tilts towards his voice in acknowledgment.
James slides off the edge of the bath, onto his knees beside it. With very slow, obvious movements, he reaches out and brushes a finger against Regulus’ arm. The smaller man doesn’t even flinch.
“Come on love, I’m gonna help you dry off.”
With James’ help, Regulus stands and steps out of the bath. James pulls out the plug as he goes.
He throws a soft towel over Regulus head and rubs his hair dry. This normally works, pulling Regulus out of his head. And this time it does. James squishes Regulus’ cheeks lovingly through the towel and Regulus scoffs, smacking him away. He takes the towel and kicks James out, insisting he can dry himself.
They never talk about these moments afterwards. The only other person who knows is Sirius, because he has sat outside the bathroom multiple times when Regulus asks.
The moment Regulus is back to himself, it’s as if nothing happened.
Regulus has successfully bathed and dried himself. He hangs the towel by the radiator and makes his way back to the bedroom.
He smiles as he takes in James’ sprawled form on the bed. Regulus grabs a pair of boxers from their drawers and pulls them on.
He makes his way over to the bed slowly. James is breathing gently but he isn’t asleep yet. Regulus crawls on James’ side of the bed, wrapping himself around James as the big spoon over the blankets.
“Thank you,” he says again, in English.
James rolls over awkwardly. He lifts the blanket and Regulus crawls under, moulding instantly to James’ shape.
“I don’t now what I’d do without you,” he whispers into a tanned chest.
James threads his fingers through dark curls feeling Regulus draw tiny patterns into his skin. “You’ll never have to know,” he replies. “I’m not going anywhere.”
Regulus nods and lets himself feel for just this moment. The overwhelming love he feels for James Potter, deep in his bones, in his heart, in his very soul. There’s nothing else in the world he is so sure of.
“Je suis… Je sius tellement chanceux de vous avoir.”
Regulus lifts his head, raising an eyebrow at James who bites the inside of his cheek. “Oh you are, are you?”
James nods slowly. “Just… just to check, what did I say?”
“Where did you learn it?” Regulus counters, enjoying the way James’ seems to weigh his answers. “Was it Sirius?”
James’ face falls. “Oh god did I say something awful?”
“You went to Sirius for French lessons?”
James groans and buries his face in Regulus’ hair. “I asked him about one sentence. One! I wanted to say something in your language cause Marls told me some bullshit about it being the way into a man’s heart… Don’t know why I didn’t ask Mary.”
Regulus cocks his head and smiles at James. He sighs, looking truly disheartened. “I wanted to say, ‘I’m so lucky to have you’. Cause you know… I am.”
Regulus lays his head back on James’ chest. “I know. I just wanted to know where you learnt it.”
James presses a finger into Regulus’ side, tickling him and causing the smaller man to squirm. “You little shit, you made me worry for nothing.”
“Ah! James Potter keep your hands to yourself. And it was sweet. I appreciate it.”
James rolls his head to the side, watching Regulus’ grey eyes watch his brown. “Have I finally made it into your heart?”
“Oh mon amour you are my heart.”
James smiles in his darling James way and Regulus can’t help but lean in to kiss him. James, never one to disappoint, kisses him back.
So they kiss for a while, touching, holding, loving.
And Regulus falls asleep on James’ chest, wrapped in the arms of his lover. If he has another nightmare, he knows James’ will be there to look after him. For a while he has. And Regulus knows he always will.