Souvenir
“And now it’s just another show
And you leave ‘em laughing when you go
And if you care, don’t let them know
Don’t give yourself away”
…
Regulus didn’t have much time to bask in the glory. He didn’t even have the chance to really talk to anyone besides Tarquin, because before he knew it Professor Slughorn had his hand on his shoulder and was whisking him off of the field.
“Professor?” Regulus asked, as they followed behind Emmeline and Madam Pomfrey, as well as a few other professors, “what’s going on?”
He didn’t really need an answer as soon as he noticed the Gryffindor and Ravenclaw team captains fighting relentlessly with the bludger. It kept escaping and pulling away from them, ultimately aiming towards Regulus' general direction. He swallowed and looked away.
Slughorn didn’t say anything as the group made their way through the castle. Emmeline was still red in the face, clearly embarrassed by all the fuss, and Regulus wished he could apologize to her. He wished he could say how sorry he was, how he didn’t mean to do it, how he knew it was his fault and he felt so immeasurably guilty for it.
What is everyone going to think of me?
Regulus was very far into his head when they finally reached the infirmary, Madam Pomfrey immediately laying Emmeline down into a hospital bed and closing the curtain. Regulus caught a glimpse of her, her forehead had welled up like a purpley balloon. He gave her a pitiful look as the curtain closed.
He looked at the ground, trying to contain the emotions bursting inside him and hoping to God that he would just be allowed to leave. He knew he wouldn’t, but he wanted to very badly. He just wanted to be in his bed. He was tired. He was so, so tired.
It felt like forever until Madam Pomfrey opened the curtain and walked through. “Regulus,” She put her hand on his shoulder, “come with me, boy.” He looked to Professor Slughorn with confusion, but his professor did not share the glance. He let Madam Pomfrey guide him to a bed, and he sat down.
“I’m not hurt,” Regulus watched her as she began to pull out a multitude of elixirs and potions, “please, focus on Emmeline. I’m fine.”
“Emmeline is going to be alright, Regulus,” Madam Pomfrey shushed him, before coaxing him into laying down on the bed. “I need you to drink this for me,” She handed him a blue bottle with a foggy green liquid inside of it, “it’s not the best tasting, but it will do the trick.” He nodded, and once he realized she was going to watch him, he closed his eyes and began to drink. He cringed, his nose scrunching as he gulped and gulped and eventually finished the bottle. “Good boy,” Madam Pomfrey smiled shortly, “now, please hold still.” She leaned back against the curtain and stuck her head around the side, “Headmaster!”
Regulus sat nervously as Dumbledore came into view, his half-moon spectacles reflecting the glowing light from the surrounding windows. Even as a fifth-year, his Headmaster still intimidated him. “Hello, Regulus,” He greeted, “I’m sorry you had to encounter such a terrible mishap during today’s Quidditch match.”
“It’s fine, Headmaster,” Regulus rushed to get his word in, “I promise, I didn’t mean to, I just–”
“Didn’t mean to what, Regulus?” Dumbledore asked with curiosity.
Regulus, surprised, answered, “To hit Emmeline. I don’t know why I ducked, that was so stupid of–”
“Regulus,” Dumbledore halted his soon-to-be rambling, “you are not at fault in this situation.”
“I’m not?” Regulus was shocked, his stomach ache bubbling away as he asked. He only felt guilt ever since he brought Emmeline to the ground, so to be told he wasn’t at fault was… not what his mind had anticipated.
“Of course not,” Dumbledore continued, “what happened to Emmeline is at the fault of whomever cursed the bludger this morning.” He didn’t know how, but it appeared Dumbledore had read his mind; that he somehow knew exactly what Regulus was thinking and what he had been worrying about.
Regulus’ arms had been patiently at his side when he began to feel some sort of pulling force twinging in his fingertips. He disregarded it, until he noticed his arms and hands rising from the bed and drifting towards each other. “Um,” Regulus’ throat felt dry, “I’m not– I’m not doing that.”
“I know,” Madam Pomfrey patted him softly, “just relax.” He couldn’t. Barely. Suddenly, his hands intertwined in front of him, and as hard as he tried to pull them apart, they wouldn’t budge. He looked up at them with fear in his eyes, as he tried as hard as he could to let go of himself. “It’s as we thought,” Madam Pomfrey sighed, “magnetic charm.”
“Ah,” Dumbledore studied Regulus’ hands, “do we know the source, Poppy?”
“Not that I can tell,” Madam Pomfrey took hold of Regulus’ hands and parted them, causing Regulus to sigh with relief.
“What is it?” Regulus asked.
“Regulus, I’m not sure if…” Madam Pomfrey trailed off and looked to Dumbledore for confirmation.
Dumbledore smiled mistily, “He deserves to know, Poppy.” Dumbledore then walked a few paces towards Regulus and took a seat at the foot of his bed, “Madam Pomfrey and I suspect that somebody may have cursed you with a magnetic charm, which would explain the bludger’s behavior this morning.”
“Magnetic charm?” Regulus questioned, “What is that?”
“A sort of spell that causes a specific object to be specifically attracted to a specific person,” Dumbledore sighed, “it is not easy magic. Whomever casted it must be a very gifted, and advanced, witch or wizard.” Dumbledore then became harshly serious, suddenly, “I do want to ask you, is there anyone you may suspect to have casted this charm upon you?”
“No, Headmaster…” Regulus shook his head, before suddenly it came into his head. Dumbledore had been exchanging a look with Madam Pomfrey when Regulus spoke up. “Wait,” He caught Dumbledore’s attention once more, “there is someone I… suspect.”
“Well, please, Regulus,” Dumbledore encouraged him, “do tell us.”
…
Regulus knew his brother fairly well. And besides knowing him, he also knew him well enough to anticipate him, to pay attention, to see where he runs off to or where he usually spends most of his time. So, he didn’t have a particularly hard time locating him that Saturday afternoon.
It was after lunch, so most students were either in their dorms or attending to some other business Regulus didn’t care about. But not Sirius.
Regulus found Sirius sitting on a bench in the courtyard with Mary Macdonald. They were snogging rather obnoxiously, as usual, taking up the entire bench and scaring practically anyone who came near off and away. But not his brother, not today.
Regulus took a deep breath before starting towards Sirius. This would be the first time they’ve spoken since God knows when, and Regulus had been waiting for God knows how long to give him a piece of his mind. Now, he just had a reason to do it. A very important, well thought-out, reasonable reason to do so.
He felt sick almost, so scared for some reason of his own brother at that moment. He halted in front of the bench, standing before him and trying to maintain some sort of intimidating stance. But he couldn’t, not at all. He was nervous, near sweating probably, and trying to find something to do with his hands. He was already embarrassed, already worried, already…
Be brave for once.
“Sirius,” Regulus said quietly, and once he earned no reaction from his brother, he spoke up, “Sirius!”
“Piss off!” Sirius rolled his eyes, letting go of Mary and then facing Regulus. It seemed that he hadn’t recognized, or processed, who had been talking to him, so when he saw Regulus his eyes widened for a few moments. But Sirius quickly flooded to his senses as he raised a sharp eyebrow, “What do you want?”
“I want to talk to you,” Regulus said coldly, narrowing his eyes at his brother and finding it hard not to look at Mary with her lips swollen, “alone.”
“That’s all right,” Mary chirped, very clearly uncomfortable, “I’ll–”
But Sirius grabbed her arm before she could really walk away from him, “No, stay.” He looked back at his brother, “not going to happen. What do you want?”
“I want to know why you used a magnetic charm,” Regulus barely knew what he was talking about, suddenly feeling very small under his brother’s gaze. He tried to stand his ground, “I want to know why you thought sending that bludger on me would be funny. Because it wasn’t.”
“I did not,” Sirius answered defensively, “do you seriously think I did that?”
“I do,” Regulus crossed his arms, trying to appear mightier, “you don’t think I know you and your stupid friends well enough? Just admit it. That’s all I want.” Regulus lied, and added, “Dumbledore will be questioning you soon enough.”
“Yeah, all right,” Sirius rolled his eyes, getting up to leave. Regulus should’ve known his brother better, should’ve known that he couldn’t scare him.
Regulus took a step forward, as bravely as he could manage, “I could’ve died. That wasn’t fucking funny.”
Sirius took a step towards his brother, in retaliation, “I didn’t do it. So believe me or piss off.”
“You’ll get kicked off the team,” Regulus breathed heavily through his nose, “if they catch you. You won’t play again.”
“Is that what this is about?” Sirius scowled, “You want to get me kicked off the team? That’s even low for you, Reg, blaming me for something I didn’t even do just to spite me. Real classy. Very Black of you.” The way his brother enunciated the word Black made Regulus ridiculously angry.
“I don’t care what you think of me,” Regulus spat.
“Good,” Sirius rolled his eyes, “because you’re bloody ridiculous.” Sirius pushed past him then, causing Regulus to draw his wand. Mary noticed, pulling Sirius aside and causing him to look back at his brother. “What is this about?” Sirius yelled, fearlessly, “What do you fucking want from me?”
Regulus knew he was dragging the conversation on. He knew he’d never curse Sirius or even fire a spell his way. He didn't know what he was doing. He didn’t know why he was so angry. “I…” He shook his head, searching for words to say, “I just–”
“That’s what I thought,” Sirius replied, “so leave me the fuck alone.”
Regulus watched him go, before he left the courtyard.
…
Regulus pounded through the Slytherin common room. When he entered, everyone cheered proudly, patting him on the back as he passed. But he ignored them, and cut right through.
Once he escaped the crowd, he immediately started up the stairs, holding onto the banister tightly.
“Regulus!” He heard a voice call. Regulus turned around, spotting Tarquin a few steps behind him, smiling proudly. Regulus wanted to be sick.
“What do you want?” He snapped.
“Where are you going?” Tarquin leaned against the wall.
Regulus narrowed his eyes, “What the fuck do you want?”
“Jesus,” Tarquin laughed a little, “did something happen?” When Regulus didn’t crack, he sighed, “Fine. Just come downstairs, you deserve to celebrate.”
Regulus walked towards Tarquin, before stopping on the step in front of him. Tarquin looked a bit happy when he did that, thinking the conversation would go in a different direction. But it didn’t. “I don’t know who you are,” Regulus began, seethingly quiet, “I don’t know what you want. But I am not your fucking friend. I do not like you. You are a pompous, self-righteous prick and you have no business even speaking to me.” He breathed heavily into Tarquin’s face, “You only care about your fucking self, all you do is fucking betray, and you’re not my friend, and you’re not my brother.” Tarquin looked confused, then, trying to speak, but Regulus just continued, “I hate everything about you. And I am ashamed of you. I’ll die before I trust you ever again. So,” He pushed Tarquin then, hot tears forming in his eyes as he tried to finish strong, “Leave me the fuck alone.” Regulus turned away sharply, walking up the steps and leaving Tarquin standing there, dumb-founded.
When Regulus made it to their room, he was relieved to see he was entirely alone. He stripped himself of his Quidditch uniform, before laying in his bed and drawing the tapestry.
He tried to slow his breath down. He held his hand against his chest, feeling the shuddering beginning, his pulse quickening and his heartbeat thudding. His heart felt trapped, pounding against the doors of his chest, begging to be set free, begging to be let out.
He cried. Ugly, messy floods of tears poured down his cheeks as he hacked and thrashed, madly trying to contain himself. But he couldn’t. He leaned his head against the bedpost, gripping it tightly, his white knuckles soggy with tears as he began to bang his own head against the wood. “Stop, stop, stop,” He cried to himself, “stop it, please, stop.”
He needed someone. He needed someone to walk in. He wanted to be alone. But he didn’t.
He needed something. He needed help, and he needed to stop, and he wanted. He wanted. He wanted.
…
“If I let you in on a little secret, do you promise not to tell anyone?” He asked, and Regulus nodded. “I need you to tell me, out loud.”
“I promise,” Regulus sniffed, which caused his brother to grin.
“Okay, I trust you,” Sirius then disappeared for a moment, as Regulus’ young eyes widened nervously. He watched the closet, wondering when his brother would come back out. Fear rose faster and faster, and then Sirius returned, grinning still as he sat down in front of Regulus with a wooden box. “When I get like that,” Sirius began, and he started to unpack the box, “I use this. It’s magic, Reg. It’s real magic.”
Regulus wasn’t sure what his brother meant when he took out a large, black, circular disk and placed it onto the box. Regulus’ face was still wet with tears as he sat criss-crossed on the floor, hoping his brother didn’t let him down or disappoint him. Even though he never, ever did.
“Ready?” Sirius asked, holding up what looked like a needle over the disk he had placed onto the box. Regulus nodded again. “Glad you are,” Sirius said charmingly, before letting the needle down. All of a sudden, Regulus heard the strumming of a guitar. He furrowed his brow, trying to understand, which Sirius noticed immediately as a woman’s voice began to sing. “It’s called a record player,” Sirius stared at it with wonder, just as Regulus had been staring at him all those moments, “it’s used for playing muggle music.”
“Muggle music?” Regulus asked, skeptically.
“Yes,” Sirius sighed, before moving around the magical little box and sitting closely next to his brother, “but isn’t it wonderful? Listen.” And Regulus listened. He listened to the woman’s voice, how it sounded so natural, so beautiful and simple. And Regulus didn’t know why, but he felt himself starting to cry again. Sirius put his arm around him, then, somehow still smiling, “Anytime you need it, you can come in here and use this, yeah? I promise it helps.” Regulus nodded to show his brother he was listening. “It happens to me too, you know. I get that tummy ache, and breathing gets all hard, and you don’t know what to do. I get it too.” Regulus looked at Sirius then, his eyes wide and red, his cheeks wet with tears and trust. “I’ll teach you how to use it. And I can show you other songs like this, and you can find ones you like, too.”
“I like this one,” Regulus sniffled.
“You do?” Sirius looked happy all over, “oh, so do I. It’s my favorite.” Sirius nudged his brother, “Can you smile now?”
“No,” Regulus said stubbornly.
“Please?” Sirius teased, “It’ll show me you're better.” Regulus looked at him, pretending to be embarrassed, but in the end he gave him the only smile he could muster. “Good,” Sirius grinned again, “want to go get something to eat? Maybe that’ll help, too.”
Regulus looked back to the record player, “Can we listen one more time?”
“Absolutely.”
Sirius and Regulus sat side by side for hours, listening to the same song over and over again. By suppertime, Regulus remembered almost every lyric, and that night it played through his head until he found himself parting ways with his brother before bed.
“Goodnight,” Sirius had said, in his silk pajamas now, about to turn away to go to his own bedroom.
“Goodnight,” Regulus echoed, before he stopped and looked at his brother again, catching his attention, “What’s the name of that song?”
“Shh!” Sirius said quickly, before kneeling so the brothers could see eye to eye, “it’s called Both Sides Now.” He whispered, and smiled again, “I’m glad you like it.”
“Both Sides Now,” Regulus repeated, “I’ve looked at life from both sides now…” Regulus sang softly, causing Sirius to laugh.
“From win and lose and still somehow, it’s life’s illusions I recall,” Sirius sang back to him, which too made Regulus laugh. Neither of them were very good singers.
“I don’t know life at all,” Regulus finished the melody, and even though he didn’t sing the lyric right, Sirius grinned once again, and patted his shoulder proudly.
“Goodnight, Reg,” He then left for his bedroom, and Regulus turned around and made his way towards his own.
…
I really don’t know life at all.
...