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He doesn't want to bother Pomfrey. Not when she has sick people to look after, actual sick people. He just gets a bit out of breath climbing the stairs. No big deal.
It's been happening for years, a gentle decrease in how much air he can take in. He's fine. It's probably just some weird result of the incest that his family is so fond of.
It's not at all a big deal when he tries to walk to class after lunch, barely making his way halfway up the stairs before needing a breather. And it's not at all a big deal when he has an impromptu coughing fit.
And, it's not at all a big deal when he has to run back down the stairs to his dorm, to throw up twice into his bathroom sink because the coughing took a toll on his stomach.
And, if he just takes off his robes and lies in bed, planning to avoid all of his afternoon, it's certainly not a big deal.
He wakes to a hand stroking his curls and another on his shoulder. He opens his eyes slowly and realises that his mind is very much muddled, because the room is swirling around in a way that's dizzying and his brain can't think any more than the words 'I'm cold'.
He is cold, there's a chill emanating from his bones. But at the same time, he's so uncomfortably warm that he thinks that if he stepped into a pit of lava, he'd cool down. The moon is still low in the sky, and if he squints, he can see the last of the daylight slipping away.
How long had he been asleep? Not long enough, apparently, if the droop in his eyes had anything to do with it. He can see his potions books on the desk next to his bed, a cruel reminder that he does have schoolwork to do, despite feeling unwell.
But he just feels so comfy right now, and honestly, he would never do schoolwork again if it meant he would be this comfy. His body isn't very comfy, mind, because it feels like every muscle has turned to stone, and every limb was as heavy as a skyscraper, and it was like his head was being squeezed very slowly with a vice.
But there was a soft blanket covering him, and a familiar scent was wrapped around him like a hug, and there was not enough power in him to even consider moving and doing something more convenient, like drinking a pain potion.
He turns his head to bury his nose in the fluffy thing below him, and takes a deep inhale. The hand on his shoulder starts stroking down his back. James, his addled brain supplies.
"Hey, Reg," He murmurs, his rings cool on Regulus's skin.
"Hey," Regulus replies, voice quiet from sleep. His body is aching still, piercing pain threatening to strike every bone in his body.
He tries to balance his breathing, but it's like his lungs are made of lead, crushing any chance he has of letting oxygen in. He closes his eyes.
James gets it though, and tries to sit up, so that Regulus's chest is more open. He can still barely breathe, but it helps.
"I didn't see you today, sweetheart," James says, still brushing his hand through Regulus's hair. "Have you been in here all day?"
His voice is soft, thankfully, because recently any noise above a whisper gives him a dreadful headache. "No. Just didn't go to my afternoon classes."
"I didn't see you at all. Have you eaten today?"
His already stunted breath hitches. He hasn't eaten today. Mainly because the nausea he felt when he woke up was too painful to ignore, and so he spent the whole breakfast hour lying on the floor, willing it to go away. The same happened at lunch. James has always had a weird thing about making sure Regulus eats. He suspects that Sirius mentioned something about their Mother's punishments.
He shakes his head and smushes his nose further into James's jumper. "Felt sick."
He hears James exhale quietly and then say, "Well, I'm glad you didn't push it and make yourself feel worse."
"I'm sorry," He replies, and James leans down to kiss his forehead.
"Don't be."
Regulus tries to sit up a little, and tucks his head into James's shoulder.
"You're warm," Regulus whispers.
"So are you," He replies, tugging at the sleeves of Regulus's school jumper. "Why don't you take this off, sweetheart? You'll feel less feverish."
Regulus just nods and lets James pull him upright, ignoring the way his hip is protesting.
James pulls the jumper over his head, ruffling his already frizzy curls. He then pulls Regulus back into his chest, and holds his hand. "Why don't you try to breathe a bit?" He suggests, brushing his damp hair from his forehead.
So Regulus tries to breathe, which really shouldn't be this difficult. He can't take in a breath unless he concentrates on the warmth of James's hand in his. He's trying to relax his muscles, and eventually, he's breathing just enough for some colour to get back into his cheeks.
He leans back into James, and closes his eyes, letting the lull of the hand through his curls draw him into sleep.