Chapter Text
One fact about Hogwarts was that it had numerous nooks and crannies that were perfect if you didn’t want to be found. Regulus grew very fond of these hiding places and used them to his advantage every chance he got. Tonight was no exception.
A draft wafted through the corridor from the cool night air. Light from the waning moon casted through the windows and illuminated the hall with a comforting blue hue. Very fitting for Regulus’ mood.
He was sitting with his knees drawn up to his chin, hidden behind a statue and the curve of a pillar. It was the perfect spot, with just enough exposure to get a very nice view of the Hogwarts grounds.
The spot was quite spacious, not that he took advantage of it. Regulus found being as small as possible was the most relaxing. If he’s small, it’s almost like he can escape the bigger picture of his life. When he was younger, he’d always curl in on himself to avoid his parents—their screaming and arguing and curses. Not even Hogwarts could protect him from his responsibility as the new heir. This was his only escape—these midnight huddles without sleep.
Of course, sometimes, he would drift off and wake up with the worst back pains. Those were the nights where he’d sob himself to sleep. Luckily, he’d never been found, not by Filch or any of the pesky prefects.
Sometimes Regulus almost wanted to be found. He’d spent his whole life learning to hide his emotions, not to dare let anyone see he had the capability to shed a tear. But keeping everything bottled up in front of others was exhausting. Even when he could cry his heart out alone around a corner, the relief was only temporary. His problems wouldn’t be solved by measly tears, but there was nothing else he could do.
Regulus was helpless. Completely lost in his own misery and poor life choices. As if he’d had a choice. Maybe he did, at one point. But there was no doubt it was gone by now. Lost to time and stubbornness.
He sniffed, feeling a wetness glide down his cheek and fall onto his knees. There was no point in wiping it away, considering there was bound to be more.
No matter how much Regulus cried, there just seemed to be no end. He always had more tears to shed and even more reasons to do so.
Footsteps silently started up the corridor, creeping closer towards where Regulus sat. He sniffed one last time before the person would be within hearing distance. Letting his eyes fall closed, he waited to be passed by, so he could let out the worst of his cries without fear of being overheard. Sure, he could just cast a silencing charm, but where was the fun in screaming without hearing the echo of your own loneliness?
The steps came to a halt. Confused, Regulus opened his eyes to a bright lumos shining in his face. He wiped the tears from his eyes to try and get a better view on who dared to disturb him.
“Regulus?” The light moved out of the way for Regulus to make out the wire framed glasses adorned atop the person’s nose. With unruly jet-black hair sticking out in all directions and piercing yet kind eyes, he was able to recognize the Gryffindor almost immediately.
“Potter.” Regulus replied, not bothering to get up or move at all. He stayed in his ball formation, arms hugging his knees closer against himself.
“What are you doing here? You know it’s past curfew, right?” James asked, taking in Regulus’ tear stained cheeks, which only added to his curiosity and worry.
“Why do you care?” Regulus made a point to hold eye contact, staring him down with displeasure and annoyance. Hopefully Potter would take the hint and leave him alone to sulk by himself.
James was unfazed by the death glare being shot at him, after putting up with the elder of the Black brothers, he’d grown used to the look. “Well, I am Head Boy.” He stated matter-of-factly, “It’s kind of my job.”
Regulus sneered but said nothing. The last thing he needed right now was to be scolded about the curfew, especially by Potter. He looked down, hoping that by Merlin he could be alone again.
But James wouldn’t leave so easily. After a moment’s hesitation, he put down his wand, using the moonlight to see, and sat down next to the younger boy. Regulus immediately tensed, but didn’t dare look over at James, not wanting to give him the satisfaction of any more acknowledgment.
“This is cosy.” James said, sitting crisscross as the space wasn’t large enough to accommodate for his longer legs. He was by no means the tallest person, especially not when standing next to the tree that was Remus Lupin, but compared to Regulus, he was tall enough. Assessing the younger boy, the deep eye bags, tangled curly hair, improperly made uniform, he concluded he was do for someone to talk to. “What’s up?”
Regulus wanted to shout at Potter to get his head out of his arse and leave him alone. To punch the concerned look out of his face. To hex him until he couldn’t ask any other ridiculous questions such as that. To cry into his shoulder and let all his problems wash away. Of course, he did none of those things. “I’m not in the mood.” He warned through gritted teeth.
James was silent, waiting for more of a response that never came. “How come you aren’t in your common room?” He asked gently, putting away his more cheery approach as it clearly didn’t work.
“Because I want to be alone.” Regulus finally looked up, taking a second shot at a glare. The minute he saw James’ eyes, though, he regretted it. He’d expected some sort of joke or mocking to come out of this, but all he saw was worry. The look of someone who cared. A look that he hadn’t had the privilege to see since he was younger—more naïve.
“I’m not sure you do.” James countered, looking over Regulus’ state again.
Regulus’ lip curled in distaste, “What do you know, Potter?” He shot back, “You think you know what I want? You’re just a pompous prick who thinks he knows everything about everyone. Would it kill you to just leave me be for once?!”
James was a little surprised at the outburst, but he decided not to take the insult too personally. Regulus was only angry. But despite his request, James stayed where he was, unmoving. There was a dangerous fire behind Regulus’ eyes, a fire Potter had yet again seen multiple times before. “Look,” he started carefully, keeping his voice down, “I know you don’t like me—”
“Don’t like you?” Regulus scoffed, amused by the choice of words. “I should hate you.” He stated with anger, letting the fact linger but continuing before he could be interrupted. “You are insufferable! You prance around like you own everything when you’re not even apart of the sacred 28! The only thing your family owns is some ruddy hair potion yet you act like a bratty prince every chance you get.” Regulus laughed at his own words, baffled by the foolishness of them. He went on, “And despite having nothing—being nothing—you manage to take everything. Before I even knew you existed, you stole my own brother.”
“Regulus—” James tried.
“I didn’t even have a chance. One moment all I had was a brother, my own flesh and blood, and the next thing I know, I’m an only child. Left to be the heir of the highest bloodline in the whole bloody world. You . . .” he faltered a little, knowing he should’ve stopped talking a while ago, but it was too late now. “You—your parents, Lupin, Pettigrew, the whole ruddy Gryffindor house—mean everything to him. You’re his whole world and I am nothing.” Regulus but his lip, wanting desperately to just shut up, forcing himself not to cry.
James didn’t have to be a genius to understand that Regulus was talking about Sirius. Guilt shot through him. He had always considered Sirius to be like his brother, and ever since Sirius ran away last summer, it had been official. He never took a moment to think of Sirius’ actual brother and how it might affect him. Now that he was sitting next to Regulus, it seemed so obvious.
“Regulus,” James waited to be interrupted again but was relieved when he wasn’t, “just because Sirius ran away doesn’t mean he’s no less your brother. He wanted to come get you, really—”
“Then why didn’t he?” Regulus cringed at his voice crack. “I waited for days for him to come back. My bags were packed and ready and he never came. You have no idea how it felt to be left to rot in that house—with those people.” His words dripped with venom, pure anger and frustration.
James’ gut twisted with guilt as he watched Regulus. “It’s not too late,” he said quickly, “you are always welcome to come live with me and Sirius. He misses you.”
Regulus didn’t respond immediately. What could easily be mistaken as hesitation was only a blissful wish. He wanted to pretend he had an option. “No.” Regulus balled his hands into fists, tugging the sleeve of his left arm down as far as it could go. “It’s too late for me. I made my decision and he made his.”
“Reg, honestly, it’s no problem—” James tried again.
“Don’t call me that.” He spat, unable to look at Potter. He didn’t want his pity, what would it fix? “I should hate you.” He repeated in a mutter, speaking more to himself than anyone else. “But I don’t. I hate that I don’t.” Regulus didn’t want to give James a chance to speak, but he took a breath to collect himself. “You’re kind.” He said quietly, trying to put distaste in his words but ultimately failing to exhaustion. Too tired to be angry anymore. “You’re a better brother than I ever was.”
“He’s still your brother, Regulus.” James said—promised.
Regulus didn’t say anything, his head was turned away in order to let a few tears slip. He didn’t expect Potter to understand. How could he? James was raised in a loving home with parents who wouldn’t dare utter a single bad word about their son. He had friends who would fight for him on any given day and a girlfriend who he’s been in love with since practically his first year. It was a life Regulus yearned to have—to be apart of.
“Shouldn’t you go find Evans?” He said coldly, assuming the Head Girl was also on duty. “Or give me a detention or something?” Wiping the tears from his cheeks, he still refused to look at Potter.
“I’m not gonna leave you.” James whispered, the words just barely leaving his lips.
How dare he!? Regulus thought. How can someone be so selfless? Show such kindness after stealing everything he had and taunting him with a life he’ll never get. Regulus’ heart wrenched at the thought. He wanted to hurt him, make him feel the pain he’s had to live with for the past 16 years of his life. Wanted to watch as every good thing Potter had was ripped away from him by someone as kind as he was. No amount of hexes could make up for the loss and the physical and mental pain he will forever have to live with.
Regulus stood, dusting himself off in attempt to seem put together. “Whatever, blood-traitor.” He hated that word, a stupid concept, it was. But it was the only power Regulus held over him, the only and weakest weapon he had.
Without another word or glance at the older boy, Regulus left. He made his way back to the common room as quickly as possible.
And to his dismay, James didn’t stop him.