Chapter 25
Regulus wakes up, anxious over everything that’s to come tomorrow. He knows everything that has to be done, everything he’s going to say, and he repeats it in his head every chance he gets. He knows he’ll be fine. But he can’t deny the fact that there are many flaws in this plan and many things that can go wrong with it.
He also can’t deny the hesitance he has with leaving.
He wants to go. Wants to be with James and Sirius, far away from here. But he’s scared to do it. Scared to face his parents. Scared to finally realise that they don’t care about him.
It’s terrifying.
He drags himself out of bed to slowly pack the bag of clothes he can’t leave behind. Some of the things he owns, he wants to make sure stay in this house, in hopes that they’ll rot there. Lots of that involves his parents, the things he wore that only hold horrid things they’ve done to him. But there are some things he can’t imagine leaving behind, the memory too strong to disregard, clothes he wore, or things that remind him of happiness. Lots of that involves his brother.
Hours pass of him in that room, and nobody bothers him. He doesn’t want to leave his room for anything except to go to the bathroom, he doesn’t even feel hungry enough to face his parents, he just wants to be alone. He counts down every hour as one hour closer to being out of this place, and into a better one. He looks out the window and sees the sun just beginning to set.
“Regulus,” his mother calls sharply from down the stairs, her voice never failing to stop his heart. He heads down there with his stomach turning and collapsing in on himself, trying his best not to look weak, to look like nothing matters.
“Morning, maman,” he says quietly, sitting at the dining table as Kreacher sets him a snack and drink on the table.
She stares at him intently, a knowing look in her eyes. They sit in silence, just staring at each other, neither of their gazes dropping away from the other. “Who is this person?” she asks him suddenly.
Regulus feels his heart drop into his empty stomach. He takes a drink of water and tries his best to look confused, and tries not to look scared of being caught. He tries not to think of the possibility of putting James in danger, the thought alone is enough to make him drop to his knees in guilt. “Person?”
His mother sighs. “Severus’ mother told me that he caught you with someone.” She leans in closer. “Who is it?”
Regulus feels a burning fury for Severus, something so profound and cutting, he knows he will never forgive something like that. He doesn't think he'll ever be able to be in the same room as Severus any longer, especially if something happens to James or Sirius because of him. “I don’t know what he’s talking about,” Regulus replies cooley. “I haven’t spoken to Severus in months, I don’t know what he’s seen.”
His mother stares at him just a few moments longer before shaking her head. “I’m giving you one more chance, Regulus. Who is it?”
Regulus feels his heart beat faster in his chest, but he just keeps shaking his head, keeps standing his ground even though he knows it'll be easier if he quits while ahead. “Maman, I told you, I don’t—“
His mother’s palm collides with his face before he’s able to utter another word. Hard enough to move his entire head in another direction. Hard and unexpected enough that Regulus’ eyes water from it. Her rings hit his cheeks hard enough that he’s certain they must’ve cut him. “You are just another disgrace,” she mutters. “At least that excuse of a son would be brave enough, to tell the truth.”
“I am telling the truth,” Regulus tries still, his voice quiet and cracking. Time can never erase the fear he has of his mother. It’s ingrained in his mind, permanently stuck there with everything he does, with every decision he's made, with everything he's bound to go through in the future.
His mother gains a dangerous glimmer in her eyes and Regulus knows. And there’s nothing he can do to stop it. “Are you?” She questions.
Regulus swears he stops breathing at the look on her face. “Yes.”
She raises an eyebrow, and Regulus loathes the fact that he can see himself in her. He hates that she’ll always be with everything he does. He wishes that he could take away every part of himself that holds his mother and father. His only fear is that he'd have nothing left of himself if he did that, the thought makes him sick. “We’ll see about that.” She wordlessly summons a small, glass vial in her hand, containing a clear liquid.
Veritaserum.
She holds it out for Regulus to take. “Drink it.”
“Maman.” He shakes his head in disbelief, still trying to pretend, in refusal. But he knows his mother. Knows that nothing he says will change her mind. Knows that she longs to hurt. Knows that she’s heartless. “Don’t you trust me?” He knows, but he can't give up so easily.
“If you’re telling the truth then this should be simple.” Her eyes get sharper. “Don’t make me force you.”
“Mama,” he says quietly, silently pleading with his eyes for her to have mercy, to let this go. He doesn't mean to call her that, it just slips out. Maybe a part of him wants her to see that he’s her child and change for him, act small enough for her to see that he's human and let him go. “Please.”
“You poor thing,” she says softly, eyes glistening as if she might mean it. But he knows. Of course, he knows.
Knows.
He always knows.
She doesn’t give him a moment before putting him in a body bind and forcing the cold liquid down his throat. He can’t control it. Can’t stop it. Can’t even move. She takes the bind off and he feels the fear build in his stomach, and he can feel what’s bound to happen next bubble in the air. And there's nothing left for him to do.
Even now, he tries not to look worried, like this is going to be an easy feat. He secretly hopes that this is some sort of cruel joke, that his mother would never stoop this low.
“Stop,” he mutters. Her palm hits his face again, the rings hitting his already bleeding face once more. For a fleeting moment, he wonders if her hands have ever held tenderness. If she used to touch his face gently with affection, excited to see him grow.
Surely someone like that would never treat their own child like this, their own flesh and blood that they've carried for months.
One look at her face tells Regulus that she would.
His mother tilts her head to the side. “Are you seeing someone?”
“Yes,” he says immediately, his words coming out before his brain even has the chance to refuse. It spills out like butter, smooth and effortless. Regulus feels his heart beating in his chest rapidly as if it's trying to escape.
“Ah,” his mother mumbles. “Seems you aren’t as truthful as you said you were.” She waits a few moments. “Who is it?”
A split second. His last moment of peace. There’s no sound in this house, nothing besides the ticking of the clock in the living area. He relishes in it, in the stillness, the calm before the storm. He hopes it will last forever. But that’s not a possibility here.
He brings a hand to his mouth, clasping his mouth shut, trying to muffle the “James Potter,” that spills from his lips.
It’s clear that his mother doesn’t hear exactly what he says by the confusion on her face, but it only means that she is filled with rage in an instant. She sends a cutting curse, slashing both of his shoulders before she puts him in another body bind. Regulus can feel the blood dripping down his arms, horribly sticking his shoulders to his shirt. “Who-“
She gets interrupted by the door opening and his father suddenly walking in. Regulus’ father has always been an odd person that Regulus often found himself wondering about. Quiet when he chooses to be. Timid when around Walburga. But he could also be venomous when he was pushed too far. He had a loud voice that shook Regulus’ core when used to its full potential. But he always let Walburga be the cruel one, never intervening.
Even when he could.
Even when there were so many times that he could have easily slowed things down. So many times that he could’ve stopped Walburga from taking things too far.
And yet.
And yet, he never did.
Regulus hates him for that, possibly more than he hates his mother. At least his mother was never a coward. At least Regulus is positive that she didn’t care, and would never care. With his father, he can never be sure. He would never know if his father could be capable of loving him, of caring for him and his brother. And that? That feels so much worse.
Because of that, he knew for sure that he did something wrong to not deserve his father to save him.
His father's vacant eyes meet Regulus’ scared ones. “Walburga,” his father’s voice comes out strong as he turns to stare at her, both of their gazes unwavering as they glare at each other. “Druella asked for us two to go over in an instant. There’s been an emergency.”
His mother scoffs. “And what are we supposed to do about Regulus?”
Orion looks at Regulus, with nothing in his eyes. No care, no regard. After all these years, Regulus would think it'd hurt less. But for some reason, when Regulus is battered and bruised, seeing that only hurts more. “Leave him here. He can’t go over looking like that.”
She looks at Orion, looking like she could kill him for interrupting. She looks back at Regulus, looking like she could kill him too. “I will speak to you when I return.”
He still can’t move. He only moves his eyes to plead with his father. Silently begging him to do this one thing for him, not knowing if he seems to be asking too much from someone who has never defended him in his entire life.
But for once, some things just seem to work out in favour. “Walburga. Release him.” His mother seems stunned so Orion does it himself, and Regulus brings his hand to his bloody shoulder, feeling it ache worse than before. The curse must’ve been stronger than it usually is because the pain is almost unbearable, making it feel like it’s on fire, and as if a ten-pound brick was thrown at it.
His mother stares at him as if looking at his face disappoints and disgusts her. “You are nothing but a disgrace,” she mutters, Regulus having heard all of this before, “I often wonder what I did wrong to have you as a son.” She points her wand at him. “Crucio,” she tells him suddenly, the word easily rolling off her tongue as if she’s not sending insufferable pain through her own son’s body.
Regulus feels his vision blackout with pain until it consumes him until he loses sight of who he even is. He’s had this happen to him before, twice, at the hands of the same exact person. Over something minimal that could've easily been fixed, over something he can't even remember now. But it doesn’t ever make the pain easier, the hot knives that cut through his skin never feel duller.
When it’s over he hardly recognises that it is. He still feels his body shaking all over from the curse, and he lies there trying his best not to scream in pain, trying not to make a sound. He crawls into a ball, wanting to sink into the floor if it meant he'd never go through something like this again.
His mother and father leave without even a second glance toward him, and once again Regulus is alone, hurting, both mentally and physically. He can’t even bring himself to cry, he just carefully walks upstairs to the bathroom, holding his arm the whole way there.
Only then does he finally evaluate his injuries.
The gash on his arms is bleeding so much that Regulus doesn’t think it’ll stop. He knows it’ll scar, but there’s nothing new with that. His face bleeds from the hits from his mother, his cheek is red, and a handprint forming.
He cries as he stares at himself in the mirror and wonders why he’s so weak. How is he breaking down over a few cuts all of a sudden when his brother had to go through much worse? He’s gone through worse in this house, there have been worse curses. Other people have it worse than him, so he doesn’t know why he can’t stomach being here any longer.
He doesn’t get it.
He doesn’t know why he’s overcome with the need to leave and never come back. He knows he’s supposed to wait for tomorrow, that there’s a plan in play that he shouldn’t mess up. He should be strong. He should be brave. He should think of all his brother went through.
But he’s driven by anger over his parents, by adrenaline spurred by pain, and by a singular opportunity that he can not give up. He grabs the bag he packed and throws random things from around his room in it. He’s frantic and he feels lightheaded from the blood spilling out of him and the after-effects of the unforgivable curse, but he can’t give up.
He shrinks his bag, puts it in his pockets, and feels like his mind is skipping time as he walks through the house. He doesn’t know how he gets from one place to the next, it’s flashing by him before he can stop it. Right before he walks out the door he grabs a pen and paper, sprawls a quick note for his parents, and another that he attaches to the family owl, to send off to James’ house.
After that, he leaves. With just the clothes on his back, his wand, and random things he had shoved in his bag. He goes.
And almost like magic or fate, Regulus doesn’t know what it is, but even through all of the pain that racks through his body, he suddenly feels ten times better just being out of that house. It's like a fog being lifted.
Even though he’s walking with no clue where he’s headed, if he were to die he should be glad it’s anywhere but in that house, he'd be happy if it were nowhere near it.
☽
James wakes up in the morning feeling an immense amount of unease. He doesn’t know why it suddenly hits him so strongly, or what exactly caused it–he just feels it. Maybe it’s because Regulus is about to execute the plan the next day, or because he feels Sirius’ anger suffocating him wherever he goes, or even because he knows he needs to tell his dad about liking a boy.
He doesn’t know which it is.
Maybe it’s all of it combined, settling over his lungs, making it a little bit harder for him to breathe. He sighs in his bed in the early morning, looking at the still, dark outside, when he decides to go for a run. He always used to run with his dad in the early morning, but this morning he figures it’s the perfect time to ask again, for old-time's sake.
James gets his love for early mornings from his father, so there’s really no surprise to find that Fleamont is drinking coffee on the dining table, reading the Daily Prophet. “Morning,” James says quietly as he walks into the kitchen to get some water.
“Morning,” his father replies softly, turning a page. James knows his father won’t bat an eye about him liking a boy. He knows it, and he’s very grateful that he can feel certain about something like that.
But he’s still nervous. He just doesn’t want him to treat or look at him differently and doesn't want to disappoint any expectations that his father held. He stands in front of his dad at the table, bouncing on his toes, willing himself to talk. His father glances at him from above the paper in his hands. “What’s wrong?”
“Nothing.” James shakes his head and looks away. “Want to go running with me?” He asks with a shy grin on his face.
His dad laughs. “You’re going to kick my ass if we go running together.”
James laughs, suddenly very aware of the fact that they have similar laughs, very happy that he has something of his father’s that he can have at all times, no matter what. “Don’t worry, I’ll go slow just for you.”
His dad gives him an unimpressed look before eventually smiling and nodding. “Give me five minutes.”
James nods and feels his stomach explode into a pile of nerves. His dad disappears into his room and James paces back and forth in the kitchen, trying to come up with how he can say something like this to his father, trying to find all the right words, and form all the right sentences.
None of them seem right.
Before he knows it his dad appears, fully dressed in workout clothes. James tries his best to swallow his worry down and plasters a smile on his face. “You ready?”
His dad sighs and stretches his legs. “As ready as I'll ever be.”
They start off at a slow jog, James really isn’t in any hurry, isn’t doing this to get better, he just wanted to ease the burning anxiety that he woke up with. James laughs at his dad as he suddenly speeds up, claiming and complaining that James is going too slow.
They run for thirty minutes until they reach an empty park. They silently decide to sit on a park bench to rest, one that overlooks a calm pond. James feels his heart rate pick up as they sit in silence, knowing that this is the perfect chance to tell him. Knowing that this is his one chance. God, James doesn’t think he’s ever been this nervous about anything in his life. Not even when he had to tell his mother about the same thing.
“Dad,” he says softly. He’s so scared, and he wishes that he wasn’t. He wishes he could be fearless when it comes to this, but he can’t. He loves his parents, more than anything. And when he was growing up, everyone always compared James with his father, saying James was as strong as him, as brave, or as loving as him. His dad always claimed that it was more than a compliment to be compared to James, but what happens if telling him this changes that? What happens if he’s not the son that his father believed him to be?
His dad hums in acknowledgment. “Yeah?”
James looks down at his hands, the words glued in his throat. “You can talk to me, James,” his father tells him softly before squeezing his shoulder. Three times, wordlessly telling him he loves James, just like he used to do when James was younger. “Whenever you’re ready to.”
“I started seeing someone,” James tells him quietly, stealing a glance at his dad who just frowns. James can’t look at him. Doesn’t want to see the disappointment on his face, doesn’t want to see pity or anything negative on his father’s face.
“Alright,” Fleamont tells him quietly. “Broke up with Lily then?”
James nods and takes a deep breath. “Yeah, a while back. Anyways, we broke up, and I started seeing…this boy,” he explains, keeping his eyes away from his dad, surprised that the words even escaped his lips, and now that he’s said it, he can’t take it back. “Who means so much to me, more than I can probably ever explain.”
“James,” his father says carefully. “I’m glad you told me, son.” James finally looks at him, and his dad gives him a blooming smile. “I love you so much, regardless.” His father’s arms surround him in a hug, and James feels so safe, so similar to how he did every time his father hugged him as a kid. "So much, James."
Suddenly, it feels like James can finally breathe again.
He feels his eyes well up with tears and he gives his dad a small smile. “Love you too, dad.” His dad kisses his hair and they bask in the silence for a little bit longer, a place so quiet that they can pretend it’s only them in this huge, scary universe.
Eventually, they have to run back to James’ house, the quietness that they’re running in full of so much love and care, that James knows he never has to wonder if his parents are ever disappointed in him. He knows that they'd be so upset that he thought so in the first place. They sit on the front porch together, watching as the sun joins the sky, cascading a beautiful shade of light blue over the sky. “Who else knows?” His dad asks quietly.
“Mum, Sirius, Peter, and Remus right now,” James confesses before smiling bashfully. “And, of course, the guy I’m seeing.”
His dad nods. “Okay.” James can see the curiosity lingering in his eyes and he’s genuinely surprised that his dad hadn’t asked yet. He knows that his dad is a curious soul, and he wonders how he’s lasted this long without breaking.
“Do you want to know who it is?” James asks with a teasing grin on his face.
“Obviously,” his dad says, exasperated, letting out a sigh. “I’ve been dying to know who it was but I didn’t want to intrude too much, too soon.”
James laughs and looks at his dad, his face growing warm. “It’s Regulus.”
His dad’s eyes go wide, a laugh playing on his lips that James can just tell his dad is dying to let out. “Regulus Black? That’s who you’re seeing?”
James nods proudly. How could he not be proud to have someone as lovely as Regulus? “The one and only.” His dad stares at him before bursting out laughing uncontrollably, making James laugh right along with him. “What?” James questions through his laughter.
His dad shakes his head, his laugh slowing down as he stares at his son with so much love and pride. “Nothing. You just looked so happy saying his name.”
“Because I am,” James tells him simply. Because that’s what it is at the end of the day, being with Regulus. The way he feels now is just insurmountable adoration for Regulus. Simple as that. It took a while for James to get here, but he has.
“You must’ve put yourself in a bad position,” his dad comments, “I’m assuming that’s why Sirius is a bit upset.”
James scoffs and grimaces. “A bit?”
“It’ll get better,” Fleamont reassures, messing up James’ hair. "I promise." He groans as he suddenly stands up, griping under his breath about his sore knees. “I’m going to take a shower though. And you should too.”
James glares at him. “Oi! What’s that supposed to mean?” His father only hums calmly as he walks inside the house, smiling. And for the first time in a little bit, James thinks that everything might just end up alright.
Sometime later, after he showers and rests for a little bit longer he goes downstairs, greeted by Sirius talking happily to Effie and Fleamont, excitedly telling them about his brother and his year so far at Hogwarts. James almost doesn’t want to announce his presence and doesn't want to ruin the happiness that Sirius feels at the moment.
But it doesn’t take long for Sirius to see him first and abruptly stop talking as soon as he does. James should talk to him, in the back of his mind he knows this. But he can never get close to Sirius before he’s leaving.
Just like he’s doing now.
Sirius goes before James can say anything to him before James can even bring himself to smile at him. All James can do is watch as he leaves, sighing and squeezing his eyes shut when he can’t see him any longer.
His parents get ready to console him, and James gets ready to deny that he needs it, when there’s a slight tapping at the door. Almost similar to an owl's beak.
James can’t explain it, there’s no real reason why he immediately thinks about Regulus, he just does. He rushes to the door and when he sees an owl dropping off a letter, his stomach drops. He feeds the owl and sends it off, shaking his head as he rips open the letter with no finesse to it, nervous for what he's about to read.
I left. I had to go. Don’t come tomorrow.
-Regulus.
“Fuck,” James mutters under his breath before he’s sprinting upstairs. “Fuck.”
He pounds on Sirius’ door frantically, desperately needing him to open up, to give him reassurance, to explain what he means. He needs Sirius to calm him down, to be his rock, just like he always has been. “Why the fuck are you–” Sirius stops suddenly at the look of worry on James’ face. “What? What’s going on?”
James throws the letter in Sirius’ hands, and can't trust himself to form any coherent sentences. He nervously runs his hands through his hair and pulls at it while Sirius reads. “What does it mean?”
Sirius rereads it over and over again, even turning it over trying to see if Regulus had written on the back, seeing nothing else there except for what Regulus has written. “I don’t know,” he says quickly, obviously panicking at the vague letter. “Shit, I don’t know.”
“Did you tell him our address just in case?” James asks, feeling like every inch of himself is being ripped apart. He’s left in the dark. He can’t write a letter to ask for more information, he has no way of knowing. He can’t even imagine how Sirius is feeling.
“No, shit, I was going to, but I forgot after everything happened,” Sirius tells him, growing frustrated. “Did you?”
James shakes his head. “No, I didn’t even think of doing that.” He should’ve thought about it. James hates that he didn’t, that he was so wrapped up in Regulus that he didn’t tell him everything that he should’ve. God, he’s so dumb.
Sirius bites on his fingernails before nodding definitively. “We have to go back there.”
“What?” James shakes his head, trying to be rational even though a reckless part of himself wants to run there as fast as he can. “Sirius, we can’t just go.”
“Yes we can,” Sirius argues.
“He told us he left,” James tells him quietly. “He told us not to go there. He knows what he’s talking about more than we do. We just have to wait.”
“That’s bullshit,” Sirius snaps, voice rising in a wave of anger directed at the situation thrown in their hands.
James shakes his head. “Maybe. But it’s for the best.”
Sirius scoffs and glares at James, overcome with new anger that washes over him. He knows, just as well as James does, that if it weren’t for James yesterday morning, Regulus would be here by now. Sirius probably hates him even more for that. Luckily for him, James hates himself for it, too. “Like you know what for the best,” he mutters.
James grimaces. “Look, maybe we—“
“No,” Sirius interrupts. “We’re not speaking about that right now. Not until my brother is here, and certainly not when we don’t even know where he’s at.”
James feels fear rise within him at the thought of Regulus being lost, stranded, or hurt. He doesn’t know what to do, his mind feels scrambled, only supplying the worst-case scenarios that James hates thinking about. It haunts him, takes up space in every vacant room in his mind.“He’s gonna be alright, right?” He asks warily, needing Sirius to say it in order for him to believe it. He has to be.
Sirius looks down at the ground, thinking for a moment.“Yeah. He’s smart. I mean, it’s Regulus, for fuck’s sake. He’s gonna be fine.”
James nods, feeling a little better after hearing Sirius tell him. “Surely he’ll send a letter, right? Whenever he makes it somewhere safe?”
Sirius looks at him, really looks at him for the first time in forever. His eyes are filled with worry, and Sirius looks like he’s trying so hard to ignore it, trying so hard to convince himself of everything he’s telling James. “He will,” Sirius tells him finally, nodding once more. “He will.”
James doesn’t sleep at all that night, sitting and waiting right by the window, desperately pleading with the universe to send a sign that tells him Regulus is alright, begging Regulus to send him a letter, even though Regulus isn’t there.
But he doesn’t.