I wanna feel you by my side
It would be a lie to say he’s never felt pain like this before. It would also be a lie to pretend he’s gotten used to it.
It’s like a thousand sharp shards of glass sinking into his skin, it’s like pain exploding everywhere, burning him, tearing him apart, killing him. And he can’t, can’t, can’t.
The marble floor is cold beneath him, and Regulus can feel the uneven edges cutting into him. But it’s nothing, nothing to the excruciating pain that sears through his entire body
Every nerve is burning, every bone shaking and every muscle feels like it’s being torn. His throat is raw from his screams, his pleas
She had seen him, she had caught him when he wasn’t on his guard, when he had put down his walls (if only for a moment) but it was enough for her to search, dig, pierce through every wall.
She had seen Sirius, she had seen one of his moments of weakness, she had found what she had been looking for. (him leaning on him, his sobs hidden beneath the safety net that was his brother)
He had failed, in her mind it was a failure (she would have wanted him to make Mulciber pay, she also would have never wanted him to defend his brother)
As he lays there, shaking and shivering as his body flinches and contracts. He thinks about that night, he thinks about listening by the door and waiting for the moment that Sirius would stop screaming (the moment when their mother would stop hurting her son)
He waited for what had seemed like hours, he had waited and waited (he didn't stop it, he didn't try)
He thinks about his brothers pleas that now fall helplessly from his dry lips, he thinks about each and every "please" every "I'm sorry" and feels closer to his brother (maybe it's sick and twisted that this is where he finds himself close to Sirius, but they are. Black's always have been)
She stops, and he can hear her soft footsteps (always soft, always close, always ready to strike) he flinches when her long fingers grip his hair from behind and pull softly
"This is for you" the whisper is soft (always soft) in his ear and he can't stop the sob from escaping his lips "don't you see Regulus? This is for you."
He squeezes his eyes shut, he wants this all to be over. "I love you, do you understand?"
His voice is nothing above a breath "yes mother" before she's harshly dropping his head back to the floor and leaving (why are they always leaving?)
And then he's left on that cold floor, sobbing and curling into himself. He curses himself, curses his weakness and curses Sirius. He doesn't have the energy for this, he can't break again.
She may have found Sirius, but that's all he will let her see. Regulus lies there and tries to bury it all down, he tries make himself stop crying.
He lies there on the cold floor, in the cold room which is located in a far-too-empty house and tries to breathe, breathe, breathe.
Regulus Black cannot become his brother, there is no such luxury for him. Regulus Black has to be better, he has to become the stone marble that is beneath him, he has to become as cold as his mother and as uncaring as his father. He had melted under the sun’s warm embrace, under its searing shine.
Regulus Black wasn’t his brother, he wasn’t allowed to leave or disappoint. Regulus Black was a survivor and he had allowed himself to forget what it took to be one. Boxes and boxes were needed, he couldn’t let himself be pulled into the heat of the sun nor the false sense of safety that came with his brother, because they had left.
He lay there on the floor in a pool of his own saliva and sick, he lay there in the deafening silence. But he could hear it all in his head, he could hear Sirius’ aching screams and the loud slam of the door.
Regulus Black let himself break there on that floor, he let himself shatter (if only for a little while) let himself sob and cry and be terrified before the walls were built up and he would have to become a shell.
When he did finally leave that room, he left with a straight back and a hard face, he wouldn’t make the same mistake twice.
“Oh Jasnam I’m sorry, I have a scatter brain these days, forgetting to-“ James takes his mums hand from across the island where they sit in the kitchen. When James had first seen his mum once they had gotten off the train and seen how much thinner she had gotten, how much more frail she was, he had felt that ever-present guilt bubbling up.
He hadn’t been checking in on her enough, and the pit in his stomach had grown.
“Mum honestly! I didn’t mind, it was good. I love knitting” he smiles slightly when he sees her unimpressed look that says I don’t believe you. “It-it helped take my mind off things” Her face immediately darkness slightly (her new creases deepening) and James wants to go back and to have picked up his quill more.
“Next year we’re doing half and half alright?” She smiles at him, and James looks down because it hurts. It hurts to see his mum try and smile, it hurts to see her try and put on a brave face when he knows that it’s nothing compared to her real smile. When Euphemia Potter smiles it lights up worlds, when she grins and beams and laughs its pockets full of sunshine.
James doesn’t know how to make her smile anymore, and that thought causes something in him to plummet, to mourn it, mourn the brilliant, radiant woman he knows she can be.
There is something so unexpicicably sad about growing up, he thinks. There is something so beautifully tragic in growing up and realising the sheer strength of your parents, of realising you should have spent more time appreciating them instead of complaining.
Because as James sits here opposite his mother in a house much too big and much too quiet, he realises the those little things are the ones that should be remembered. He wishes he had stored all those lazy Saturdays doing nothing in his mind, wishes he could remember every single time his dad would take him to diagon alley with him to get new potions. He wishes he could remember all those stupid, not funny jokes that his parents would say.
He wishes he could remember what it felt like when his parents would fight over who was better at something until they both admitted it was always his mum. He wishes he had kept each and every little, happy, silly moment hidden somewhere in his mind. He wishes, and wishes and wishes.
Just then Sirius walks in, effectively cutting off his meek wandering thoughts, he immediately goes over to his mum and kisses her cheek before going to pour a glass of water and James can’t stop the love from overflowing, he loves these two people more than life itself.
For James, love is like a tap that’s always on (even if its only dripping) it’s always on and its always flowing. But when it comes to these people. The ones that he cares the most about, the love rushes and gushes out of him.
“Me and Jas were just talking about how next year you’re on jumper-making duty” Sirius scowls as his mum laughs sweetly, giving James a mischievous wink (and people wander where he got it from) they share a fond look before looking at Sirius.
His hair is tied up today, he wears in half up and half down and has his arms crossed a petulant pout on his lips. “That’s not fair!”
“He didn’t help me make any mum, I was left with blisters by the end of it” James snickers when he hears Sirius try and defend himself
“What? The absolute slander. Mum I’m the one that’s being attacked” Euphemia looks between her two sons before muttering to herself, but then she just sighs and its something so big as the air she carries is so heavy.
“I love you boys so much” gone is the playful mum from only a moment ago, Euphemia frowns before leaving the kitchen and heading to her room, leaving James and Sirius to stare at each. Their smiles slowly fading into the silence.
“Want to go smoke?” Is what Sirius finally decides on and James merely nods his head.
“Yeah, but in the garden” He doesn’t want his mum to have to smell the smoke, he doesn’t want her to be triggered into thinking it’s his dad having another episode. They step out onto the garden and sit on the steps on the patio. Sirius lights his cigarette and passes the box to James before looking out towards the acres (and acres) of land that they own.
“Do you believe in heaven and hell?” Is what Sirius asks, and James just stares at his profile. He considers the question for a while, not really sure on his answer.
“No…I don’t think so. I want to, I want to imagine that my dad is up in the skies sipping firewhiskey and I don’t know, sitting on a cloud or something” Sirius snorts at that last bit “but- well I watched the coffin go into the fire and yeah mum does believe in reincarnation and its a nice thought but when I think of death, I think of…a nothingness” he pauses “you?”
“Surely no one gets into heaven, I mean no one is that good.” He’s still looking out onto the fields “well…you might be the only one worthy of something that…good” James doesn’t mean to but he laughs and Sirius turns to him, a small smile on his lips and his grey eyes shining with amusement “shut up Potter, I swear to merlin if you say any shit about not deserving anything I will-
“You’ll what?” James raises his eyebrows, a teasing smile playing on his lips It takes one moment before Sirius is reaching for him and tickling him. (James may more may not giggle)
“Oi! P-piss off” and then he’s retaliating and their falling over each other.
Nothing is ok, being at home has made it all seem more real. He can’t avoid and forget here and it all hurts but being with Sirius and seeing his mum helps. Everything has changed and everything is hollow, the quiet hallways and the dark rooms; there is no one humming carols joyfully, there is no one baking cookies in the kitchen or adding more and more onto the tree.
James feels like even now he is merely pretending, like even now, surrounded by his family and Christmas he is still trying so, so hard to be okay and get to everyday.
Sirius sighs before leaning his head on James’ and releasing the smoke into the air, they watch it swirl and dissipate. “I’m.. I’m worried that Reg is…” he doesn’t have to finish that sentence for James to get it. (He remembers the ever-present fear he would hold when Sirius would go back every summer.
“He’s strong” James might not know much but he knows that. “He’ll be ok” he’s trying to convince himself of this just as much.
When James finally gets up and heads back inside to check on his mum, he’s welcomed with the sight of her lying on her bed, looking outwards with eyes that are blank and void of anything. He carefully puts the blanket on her and climbs in behind her, holding her and trying to keep them both together, trying to keep them from breaking.
“And how are your studies going Regulus?” They’re sitting on their too-big table and eating in silence.
Regulus looks at his plate, not wanting to answer his father who acts as if he had not ignored the sound of Regulus’ screams while he sat in his office not only mere hours before.
“Fine” his voice is clipped and harsh. He only just stops himself from flinching at the sudden sound of his mother dragging her knife across her plate.
“You aren’t getting all O’s” her voice is quiet (she’s never needed to be anything but) “Mulciber is excelling in everything.” Regulus clenches his teeth trying to stop himself from saying something he will regret. “I won’t have another disappointment for a son” she stands up and makes her way to his chair
She places her hands on his shoulder and he tries not to tense, her head leans in, lips by his ear “you will do better Regulus, you will be nothing shorter than perfect. The Dark Lord wants perfect and we will give him that, won’t we darling?”
He swallows and tries to not feel her sharp nails beginning to dig into him “yes mother” is what he whispers before taking a breath and gathering himself. “I will do better”
That earns him a kiss on the cheek.
“That’s my son” (Regulus hates the part of him that glows from that, he wants to burn the part that seeks her love out of him)
He wants to be back at home, at Hogwarts.