3
Regulus is a floodgate. One crack, showing Lucius to James, and he’s bursting at the seams.
He thought he was better than this. He used to be better at this. Years ago, in that house, he could have locked it up again in its watertight container inside him. That’s some of James’ fault too, he supposes. So much warmth is destined to melt the ice.
Regulus is forever changed by James, for better or for worse.
In his home, tucked away in Godric’s Hollow, he finally has enough breathing room that his body can’t lock anything away. He isn’t in fight-or-flight.
He isn’t surviving - he’s living.
Which is why he spends half of the next morning in bed, sobbing over something Andromeda had written to Sirius six years ago. James, of course, spends every moment with him. Not touching, never touching, and somehow just as soothing.
“Anyone else would have done something,” Regulus whispers over and over. “It’s not your fault he’s one of them.”
James writes to his mum, asking her to keep Harry for a little longer. It’s no problem, she assures him, Harry is a little angel.
James knows he probably has a faceful of cupcake frosting right now.
“Reg,” He says softly. “You were never one of them. You were a kid.”
“So was he,” Regulus whispers in response. “And so was Andy. They got out. Why not me?”
“Regulus, you-”
James doesn’t get to finish his sentence before Regulus is dragging him through time.
What strikes him first is the silence. His memories of Sirius’s stories are painted in the sounds of whimpers and cracking bones as Effie mended them back together. So the silence inside the house is… unnerving.
Time skips around a little. It always does in Regulus’ memories. It makes James ache.
“Do it.” The command comes as if underwater, and finally James can see it. Sirius, crumpled like a doll, clinging to life on the floor. He’s clutching his forearm close to his body, as if to protect it above all else.
“Hurt him,” Walburga says. “You know how to do it.”
Because this is Regulus’ brain, James gets a rather unfortunate front row seat to the things that flash behind his eyes. There’s a lot of Bellatrix, a lot of Lucius.
Every. Single. Unforgivable. Curse.
Regulus’ arm raises like a phantom, his wand flickering in and out of existence. Sirius’ face shuffles a little. Next is the room. They’re in different rooms, at different times of day… it smells the same no matter where it shuffles.
Then all there is are Sirius’ eyes. Wide, afraid, tears gathering and spilling. Regulus latches onto them, sees a brother.
It gives Sirius enough time to do… something. James can’t see what Sirius does because, well, neither can Regulus.
The memory goes black for a brief moment before they’re in Regulus’ bedroom. Sirius is practically on his hands and knees, desperate and shaking.
“Come with me, come with me, come.” His eyes are no different than before. They’re terrified, they’re frenzied. For the first time, James notices that Sirius is wearing the same thing he wore the night he showed up at the Potter’s.
Oh.
He’s watching… he’s watching Sirius run away. And Regulus, who isn’t quite inside himself, says nothing. Just watches.
Footsteps sound outside Regulus’ room. The older boy turns and runs.
Regulus isn’t even there. Not really.
It feels like James has stepped off a rollercoaster. The ground is there, holding him up, but his mind and stomach are still twisting. His insides are running off without him.
There are bright flashes of pain. He knows Regulus has sunk a lot of these memories in boxes within him. He doesn’t really remember the summer he became the only Black heir. He doesn’t really remember the pressure or the pain, but his body does.
James watches Regulus come back to school in the fall. Dorcas and Pandora cut his hair after the first years are all sorted. They congregate in Evan and Barty’s room as he moves his shit out of the girls dorm.
“Slughorn made sure to tell me that we have an empty bed,” Barty chuckles.
“He even threw in a little wink,” Evan agrees. “Which, I gotta say, is a little unexpected.”
Regulus thinks about Slughorn alone in the housemaster dorm and smiles a little. He’ll take allies wherever they come. A spike of terror runs through him too. The more people know… the higher chance it gets back to Grimmauld. The scene changes.
James can’t get his bearings. Regulus’ memories keep appearing within each other, one bubbling up and covering another.
The next time a memory surfaces, James recognizes him a little better. About a year and a half have flown by. Regulus is in sixth year, James in seventh.
He can tell by the jade bracelet around Regulus’ right wrist. A gift from James for their one-year anniversary. Walburga, for all her legilimens expertise, believes it to be a a gift from Pandora. Merlin, if she knew that James wore a matching one on his right wrist right now…
Regulus is both brave and incredibly fucking stupid. James love love loves him.
Then comes the fall. The only time James ever found a reason to take the bracelet off. Screaming, crying, nights lost to tears and liquor. For the first time, he’s able to see it through Regulus’ eyes.
Some things are irremovable, especially when it comes to Regulus. One such thing is the branding of Lucius’ hand. Another is the dark mark.
It’s still there, surrounded by tattoos of Harry’s drawings and James’ scribbles. He knows Regulus is doing his best to write over that history, to surround the darkness with the light.
It’s Orion that forces Regulus to his knees, which James finds mildly surprising. All Sirius’ stories from home centered around Walburga being the violent force, Orion just a bystander. Based on the look Regulus shoots his father, this isn’t something he predicted either. It’s weird to see him so feminine in the memory, the way he’s grown out his hair and wearing mascara like armor.
Anything, even the weakest things, to protect him from the reaction of his parents. Merlin, if they knew who their ‘perfect daughter’ really was…
He doesn’t need to look to know who he’ll find at the head of the room. Regulus has been kneeled in front of the dark lord himself.
Voldemort does not remove his hood as he draws his wand. Though he places it gently atop Regulus’ forearm, the pain shooting from its point of contact is immediate. White, hot suffering traveles through his veins in the same way the black snake writhes around on his skin. The edges of his vision blur, then blacken. The moment James thinks Regulus will pass out, the pain disappears.
He’s then ushered back into his room, where Barty and Evan are waiting like it’s just another Saturday night. Barty is blitzed as fuck, his hands carding through Evan’s hair as they lie side by side. Evan looks like he can’t breathe.
Regulus sits rigidly beside them, covering the mark with his sleeve and doing his best to pretend that it doesn’t exist.
“Do you remember,” Barty starts, slurring his words a little and waving around an empty bottle with his other hand, “When we were sorted in first year and those Gryffindor dickwads actually booed us?”
Knowing Barty, it’s meant as an invitation to anger, to smug success, but he just sounds sad.
“We were just kids,” Barty whines, now dangerously close to tears.
“We still are,” Evan replies absentmindedly, his chest catching at the inhale. Barty is still playing with his hair.
“Certainly doesn’t feel like it,” Regulus pulls back his sleeve to stare at the ink. “I feel like an adult with adult problems.”
“Give me your arm,” Evan says, pulling out of Barty’s grasp and sitting up. Regulus doesn’t miss the way Barty’s face falls.
He obliges wordlessly, holding it out like he wishes he could chop it off.
Evan taps his wand to the ink and suddenly blue flowers are dancing along the dark mark. James recognizes a few of the flowers as something Regulus has permanently tattooed. So this is where it started.
“Doesn’t look so adult now, does it?”
He glances between the vandalized mark and Evan’s face. “No,” he slowly decides.
“Well there you have it. Still a kid.”
James can feel Regulus exhale, breathing a little easier. That wouldn’t last long. Not once he came back to school as a Death Eater. Not once James felt the weight of the outside world for the first time.
He spent too many nights trying to hate someone he loved. Loathing them, actually. Loathing his choices and alignments, his family. Everything.
The scene shuffles again. This time, Regulus is kneeling at the side of a bed, eyes scanning over letters. James recognizes Sirius and Remus’ flat immediately.
“Anyone else would have done something. It’s not your fault he’s one of them.” Regulus whispers, reading aloud. Tears stream silently down his cheeks.
“I wasn’t. I’m not.” He whispers in rebuttal.
The letters between Andromeda and Sirius, predictably, do not respond.
It’s obvious that Regulus can’t bear to relive this, because they’re then flashing through the horcrux hunt. James sees it all, his husband flayed out and writhing in pain.
When they come back to themselves, Regulus’ eyes harbor a faraway look. “I did all of that just to die from the same thing I always thought I’d die of. Isn’t that fucking funny?”