Chapter 2
“How long I was asleep?” Orion asks after what seems like hours. He still holds Regulus and Sirius tightly, as reluctant to let them go as they are to pull out of their father’s warm embrace.
It’s Sirius who answers. Regulus thinks his brother is getting tired of sitting still and quiet because the moment the question falls from Orion’s mouth, Sirius sits up a little and starts rambling.
“Almost four months,” he says, “but you woke up just in time for Regulus’ sixth birthday. Does that mean we can finally go outside?”
Father leans forward, looking at them with a frown between his eyebrows. “What do you mean?”
Regulus glares at Sirius, but his brother doesn’t notice the angry look that screams, stay quiet. Sirius plays with the corner of the blanket. “Mother doesn’t allow us to go outside anymore. She’s locked the house, and no one comes in except for the healers, and the family came one time to-“
Regulus coughs, and Sirius finally glances at him. Sirius’ eyes widen as he realises what he is going to say. He scratches his chin before finishing the sentence, rather weakly, “for a visit.”
The frown on Orion’s face deepens, but he doesn’t say anything. He blinks before glancing between Sirius and Regulus. “You’ve been locked in the house for four months?”
Regulus tucks his head into his father’s chest at the hint of anger lurking in the man’s voice. Sirius, though, seems oblivious to it.
“It wasn’t that bad in the beginning. We read you a ton of books. Actually, we ran out of books to read. That’s why we tried one of your transfiguration books. Reg read to you, too; he has learned how to read. We made pillow forts and built Hogwarts from blocks. And one time, Regulus summoned chocolate from the kitchen with accidental magic. But it’s been four months,” he ends with a whine.
“Where is your mother now?”
Regulus bites his lip. Before they made themselves comfortable in their father’s bedroom, Regulus and Sirius popped into the drawing-room. Their mother was there, asleep in one of the armchairs. She was fully clothed and smelled funny, so they slipped out of the room quietly, careful not to wake her up. Lately, mother has grown to like taking naps in the middle of the day and was prone to anger if woken up. Even Sirius isn’t safe from her fury now.
Somehow though, Regulus knows it’s better not to tell that to their father. “Mother’s asleep in the drawing-room,” he whispers. Tracing shapes over his father’s chest with his index finger.
Father brushes his hand over Regulus’ back. “And my wand?” he asks in a softer voice.
“Mother has her in her bedroom,” Sirius says.
Regulus watches with wide eyes as his father struggles to sit up. Four months in bed made him weak.
“We can bring it to you,” Regulus offers and swings his legs over the bed, ready to go, to risk mother’s wrath, but Orion’s grasps his shoulder and tugs him back to his chest.
“No, I want you to stay here.” He takes a deep breath as he rubs his temples. He sighs loudly before calling for Kreacher.
The elf materialises in the middle of the room, round eyes impossibly wide as he looks at Orion. “Master is awake,” Kreacher croaks, bowing deep. “Kreacher’s Mistress will be most happy to hear this.”
“Don’t wake her yet,” Orion orders in a commanding voice. “First, bring me my wand.” Kreacher disapparates with a pop, only to reappear a second later, holding father’s wand in his hand with weary eyes. “Good,” Orion says. “Now, go to Alphard and tell him I’m awake. Bring him here.”
Kreacher hesitates. “Master tells Kreacher to bring Master Alphard, but Kreacher’s Mistress forbid the man from the house,” he mutters under his nose, “what Kreacher should do?”
“You should listen to my orders,” Orion says. “Remember, my order comes before Walburga’s.”
Kreacher looks at him for a few seconds before grimacing. With another pop, he disappears.
***
When Kreacher returns with Uncle Alphard in tow, everything moves quickly. Healer Carmichael is called to check on father. With anxiety rising in his chest, Regulus watches her every move and listens to her every word carefully. She casts diagnostic spells, murmuring under her nose, doses father with a potion after potion before, at last, the examination is over. Then, she glances at Regulus and smiles broadly.
“All well,” she says. “You’ll need to regain your strength, of course, Mr Black, but you’re going to be fine in a few weeks.” She points at different vials, explaining what’s in them and how often Orion needs to take potions, advises him to rest and relax before she stands up to leave. “Make sure your father doesn’t overwork himself.” She ruffles Regulus’ hair before turning to Orion. “He has been my little helper while you were sick. Both of them were,” she adds, winking at Sirius.
“Really?” Orion looks down at Regulus, a smile stretching upon his lips; it’s fond and tender and proud, and it fills Regulus’ with warmth.
Heat rushes into his cheeks, and Regulus ducks his head, though secretly he likes the praise, and he likes the way his father looks at him even more. It’s almost as if Regulus is the most precious person in his father’s life.
Healer Carmichael leaves, and for a time, it’s just Regulus and Sirius in the room with their father and Uncle. Regulus wanders around the room. He looks at the potions healer Carmichael has left and reads the instructions, trying to memorise them, before he joins Sirius on the floor, where they start playing Exploding Snap, while Uncle Alphard clues their father in, speaking in a quiet voice of everything that happened while he was asleep.
It’s peaceful, at least, until their mother storms into the room. The door bangs against the wall, making Regulus and Sirius jump and scramble to their feet at the sight of their mother. They shuffle back against the wall. In the past four months, they both learned how unpredictable their mother can be – one second happy and laughing and in another, crying or screaming and throwing things around.
Today, though, her attention is on Orion and Alphard. She stares at them, stormy-grey eyes taking in the sight of father, awake and sitting on the bed with Uncle Alphard at his side. “You’re awake,” she says in a raspy voice. She clears her throat. “Why wasn’t I informed about this?”
“I was told you were having an afternoon nap,” Orion replies, and there’s something in his voice that makes Regulus frown. Mother’s naps always seemed a little strange, but father’s tone suggested there’s more to it.
Regulus looks at Walburga. For the past few months, whenever he has seen his mother, they usually were in a dim room with curtains drawn shut and her half-hidden in the shadows. The curtains in father’s room are left open, and the late afternoon light strikes through the window, and Regulus sees his mother for the first time in a long time. The changes in her appearance are plain to see. Mother’s much thinner and paler, almost as if she, too, has been ill.
Something flashes through mother’s eyes, an emotion that Regulus can’t quite decipher before it’s gone; then, she straightens her back and holds her chin up. “So what if I was? I still should have been told. You had time to bring him here,” she says, jutting her chin in Uncle Alphard’s direction. Her nose wrinkles as her gaze linger on her brother’s face for a second. “And to call for the healers.”
Regulus glances between his parents as they start to argue, with Uncle Alphard joining in, and his heart sinks.
He has hoped that when father wakes up, everything will return to how it was before, and if things can’t be as they were, then maybe, they would be better, and father’s illness would be the link that brings them closer. Yet as he watches them and sees anger and resentment painted on their faces, his chest tightens as he realises nothing will ever be the same. The past four months changed things, changed their family irrevocably, and not for the better.
Walburga and Orion have never been overly warm or affectionate towards each other, but Regulus has never seen them so openly hostile, glaring at each other as they do now, with nothing but hatred and resentment in their eyes. It’s almost as if time has snapped the invisible string that held them together all this time.
Where does that leave us? Regulus wonders. He inches closer to Sirius, and his brother, almost as if he knows what Regulus is thinking, grasps his hand, squeezing tightly. Perhaps he knows, or maybe, the same thought has popped in his head like an unwelcomed guest.
Regulus sniffs, and everyone’s eyes snap to the corner where he and Sirius stand close to each other, holding hands. Something like guilt passes through Orion’s face, and he swallows the words on his tongue, closing his eyes with a heavy sigh. Regulus wants to turn back time to the moment their father woke up, to climb onto Orion’s bed and lean against his father, while Sirius’ rambling lulls him to sleep.
But it doesn’t happen. Instead, Orion calls for Kreacher and orders the elf to take Regulus and Sirius to their bedroom for a late luncheon. Uncle Alphard offers to go and tell the family and bring everyone to Grimmauld Place for a discussion that Regulus and Sirius are, once again, not invited to.
Kreacher laid a plate with sandwiches on Sirius’ desk, a small teapot and two teacups for them before he disappeared to serve the family in the parlour. Almost everyone came, even Aunt Lucretia and Great Aunt Cassie, whom Regulus has not seen since Easter. Sounds of raised voices carry through the corridors, and Regulus and Sirius exchange a look.
This time, neither of them is willing to stay upstairs while the adults decide the fate of their family.
“We have to go,” Regulus says, standing up, determination seeping into his voice. “We have to go and find out what they’re talking about. I’m not going to wait for Bella to tell us,” he says, though neither of their cousins has come with their parents.
Sirius swallows the last bite of his sandwich and nods. “To the room behind the tapestry?” he asks before taking a sip of tea. A few weeks ago, Regulus and Sirius discovered a perfect hiding place, from where they can hear what is happening in the drawing-room or the parlour. It’s a long, narrow corridor between those two rooms, with a door hidden behind the painting of a dark forest. Regulus doesn’t know if his parents are aware of the room; Regulus and Sirius found it accidentally during one of their games. So far, though, they hid in the room from their mother a few times, and she has never found them there.
Regulus agrees, and together, they walk out of their room and creep down the stairs, careful to avoid creaky steps. A tiny smile sneaks on Regulus’ lips as he sees the thoughtful look on his brother’s face. In the past four months, Sirius has learned how to be mindful of the noise he makes. Regulus is still better at sneaking around unseen, but at least now, he doesn’t have to shush Sirius every step they take.
Sirius notices Regulus’ smile and rolls his eyes before he slides his finger under the heavy silver frame, unlocking the hidden door. There’s a soft click, and Sirius slowly pushes the painting, revealing the entrance, big enough for a house-elf or a child. Regulus climbs after Sirius, and they start to crawl through the narrow space until they reach a widening, where both of them can sit almost comfortably.
The tapestry is behind their backs, but from the secret room, it looks different. Instead of names woven with intricate, shimmering threads, there are locks of hair tied together and pinned to the various places on the wall. Even though they’re not signed, Regulus can see two strands of hair that belongs to him and Sirius, each fastened neatly with a silver ribbon. They’re in the exact same place, where, in the drawing-room, their names are visible on the tapestry.
He leans closer, putting his ear against the wall connecting the corridor with the parlour and holds his breath, listening.
“-and I’m not willing for a drunkard to be in my house and around my sons.” Regulus hears his father say and frowns. Why would Uncle Cygnus stay at their home? Father continues in the same, stern voice with a hint of anger underneath, “look at yourself. This has to end.”
“Or what?” this time, it’s Walburga who speaks, though it sounds more like a growl. “I will not be controlled anymore.”
“Or I will take Regulus and Sirius away.”
Regulus clasps his hand to his mouth to stifle a gasp. He catches Sirius gaze in the dim corridor and is sure he looks as shocked as his brother. When the adults in the parlour start to shout, talking over each other and making it impossible for Sirius and Regulus to understand what’s going on, Sirius leans closer. “Take us away?” he whispers. “Where?”
Regulus doesn’t know. “Maybe, like, for a holiday?” he offers, shrugging. The adults stop shouting, and they both stop whispering and lean again against the wall.
“Since no one’s eager to defend Walburga,” Uncle Cygnus says pompously, “I feel someone needs to say how difficult it must have been for her. You sick, with, Merlin knows, what illness, and she alone with two little children. Of course, she’s tired and overworked, but I’m certain she did her best, considering circumstances.”
Someone says something, but too quietly for Regulus to hear. Someone laughs too or snorts, and Regulus thinks it must be Uncle Alphard because he’s the only one who makes sounds like that.
“Admirable?” Their father breaks in. “She hungover even now. My sons were locked in the house for four months, without care or supervision except for the wretched house-elf that does everything she says.”
Once again, the adults start to shout. At his side, Sirius groans quietly. “Can’t they take turns? I have no idea what they’re saying.”
Regulus scratches his nose, frowning. It’s easier to eavesdrop when only two people are talking. With so many people, he and Sirius can barely hear anything from the constant buzz of conversation.
“I have to agree,” Grandfather Pollux says slowly. “Locking the house up was a step too far, Walburga. I believe your husband is right-“
“Besides,” Grandmother Irma breaks in, “a vacation will do you well. You could visit your grandparents in Berlin, or maybe go south, lie in the sun a little. You’re awfully pale.”
“I will go with you. We’ll have so much fun like in the old times,” Great Aunt Cassiopeia offers. “Although, someone will need to look after my cats.”
“Actually,” father says. He clears his throat. He sounds tired and weak, and Regulus hopes the meeting won’t last much longer. Healer Carmichael said that father needs rest. Regulus can’t imagine arguing with family to be very relaxing. “I was going to ask if we could stay at your house for a little while. The boys and I. I reckon they’re sick of this house, and to be honest, so am I. Summer at the beach sounds lovely right now.”
Slowly a grin spreads on Regulus’ face. He looks at Sirius and sees the same joy that he feels reflected on his brother’s face.
Whatever happens in the parlour, the conversation is too quiet for them to listen to any longer. Besides, the excitement at the prospect of leaving the house and spending some time at the beach makes it difficult to sit quietly. And Regulus knees ache from kneeling on the hardwood floor. They crawl back through the corridor and rush upstairs, glancing over their shoulders to make sure no one notices them. They stay quiet until they reach Sirius’ bedroom, but the moment the door closes, Sirius tilts his head back and lets out a loud bark of laughter before he wraps his arms around Regulus. They jump around a little, vibrating with excitement and giggling before they fall onto Sirius’ bed, sinking into pillows and blankets.
Sirius tugs a pillow under his head, the grin on his face still impossibly wide and joyful. “Can’t believe we’re finally getting out of this house,” he says.
Regulus hums. Sirius took their imprisonment much worse than Regulus. He gets angry much faster and is more restless than before their mother locked up the door and fireplaces and forbade them from going out. If Regulus cannot stop grinning at the thought of freedom, he can’t imagine what Sirius feels. “And we didn’t have to run away,” he points out.
Sirius stands up and brings the plate with sandwiches, putting it down between them on the bed, and they munch over their sandwiches as they talk about everything they’ll do at the beach. Great Aunt Cassie lives in Cornwall in a cosy cottage, where she breeds cats and kneazles and looks after her impressive rose garden. The idea of spending summer there sounds wonderful.
Sirius swallows a mouthful of ham, cheese and bread. “I don’t know,” Sirius says in a grave voice, “if I can pretend we don’t know about it.”
Regulus rolls his eyes at his brother’s dramatics, but he, too, can’t stop grinning.
***
Thankfully, they do not have to wait long for their father to tell them the news. In the evening, pale and slightly out of breath, Orion comes into Sirius’ bedroom; he leans against the doorframe, staring at them with the same tender smile he wore earlier.
Regulus and Sirius glance at each other briefly and sit up, eager to hear the news. Father comes inside and perches at the edge of the bed, looking around Sirius’ room as if he’s there for the first time.
It might be the first time; their mother has decided it’s time for Regulus and Sirius to have separate bedrooms shortly before Orion fell ill. Regulus frowns, thinking, but he can’t remember seeing their father on their floor.
“You two should probably go to sleep,” Orion says after glancing at his watch. “But I wanted to tell you that your mother is going away for a little while. For rest.”
Sirius nods his head, watching their father expectantly, and Regulus manages just barely to stop himself from rolling his eyes. He coughs, elbowing Sirius lightly. “Oh,” he says as if it’s news to him. “Where does she go?”
“Cassiopeia wants to go to Italy and invited your mother to come along. I thought we could use this time to spend some time at Cassie’s cottage. The weather’s nice, and the two of you look like you need a bit of sun,” he says, brushing his hand against Regulus’ cheek. “And someone has to look after Cassie’s cats,” he adds, winking.
Regulus has never seen his father wink. It looks a little unnatural and stiff, and he needs to bite his lip to stop himself from laughing. He covers his lips with a hand, hiding his grin.
Next to him, Sirius lets out a quiet wheeze. “Was that a wink?” he asks, giggling.
Father rubs the back of his head somewhat sheepishly and smiles. “Yes?”
Sirius snorts. “That’s not how you wink,” he says, “let me show you.” And proceeds to teach their father how to wink and don’t look like a fool while doing it.
Regulus sits with his back against the headboard, watching them and smiling at their antics. Mostly, though, he observes their father, how he acts and speaks, and how often he reaches for them, brushing his hand against Regulus’ foot or ruffling Sirius’ hair. It’s nice and everything Regulus has ever dreamed of, but the more he thinks about it, the less it fits Orion Black he remembers.
The thought still lingers in his head as they change into their pyjamas and lie in Sirius’ bed, with father tucking them in. He reads them a story from one of the books Sirius keeps on his bedside table, which has never happened before, Regulus is sure.
Sirius is fast asleep, tired from the excitement of the day. Regulus, though, lies with his hand under the pillow, staring at Orion with a frown.
Orion closes the book. “You’re not sleepy?” A yawn slips from Regulus’ lips, and they both chuckle quietly. “You are. Why you’re not sleeping then?”
Regulus’ thumb travels to his mouth, and he sucks at it for a second before he realises what he’s doing and puts his hand on the pillow. He bites his lip.
“What is it, Regulus?” Orion asks softly, leaning closer. Slowly, he raises his hand and runs his fingers through Regulus hair. “Hm?” he prompts when Regulus remains silent.
Regulus closes his eyes at the gentle touch. No one has ever done that, and he finds it surprisingly pleasing. “You’re different,” he says after a moment. “You’ve never done that before.” He blinks one eye open, watching Orion’s reaction. The smile slips from his father’s lips, and Regulus regrets opening his mouth. He doesn’t want to make his father sad, and he doesn’t want father to stop and start acting as he has been before.
“No, I haven’t,” Orion whispers, “and I will regret it for the rest of my life. I should-,” he swallows hard. “I’m afraid I wasn’t a very good father to you and Sirius.” Regulus opens his mouth, but before he can figure out what he should say, his father shakes his head. “I wasn’t. But I will try to do better from now on. I promise.”
Regulus blinks. He doesn’t know what to say. He knows, though, that he wants this to last. He wants to laugh with his father. He wants him to run his hand through his hair, to hug him and hold him, and read them bedtime stories. He wants them to be a family, happy, and always together.
“Okay,” he whispers before his eyes close, and he falls asleep.