Chapter Text
The winter wind lashed against Regulus’ cheeks, sharp and unrelenting. His bag weighed heavily against his back as he kicked off the ground on his broom. Walburga had been merciless this time. Without Sirius there to take her anger out on, Regulus became her only option. Angry red slashes were carved into his skin, he could feel the blood trickling underneath his trousers.
As he rode his broom towards the Potter's house all he could focus on was the overwhelming sting of the cuts on his legs. He knew he just needed to make it to the Potters. Euphemia would heal him, but he was beginning to wonder if it would just be better to bleed out. The pain was unfathomable, coursing through him as he darted through the pitch black night. His trousers stuck to his skin uncomfortably, the damp fabric clinging to his wounds.
“Just a few more minutes,” he breathed to himself. He wasn’t going to allow himself to give up now, not when he was so close to escaping. When the familiar image of Godric's Hollow came into view, Regulus swooped low. He landed on the cobblestone path, just left of the Potter’s home, with a painful thud. His broom clattered to the ground and he gritted his teeth, beginning the short trek to the wooden front door on shaky legs.
His head spun from the blood loss and agony as he reached the door.
He knocked weakly against the peeling wood. He could feel the warmth of the door beneath his frozen through knuckles reminding him that he had made it, that he was finally safe. He leaned against the door, “please, someone answer” he whimpered, not loud enough for anyone to hear but himself. He knocked again, slightly louder this time and heard hurried footsteps coming towards the door.
When the door swung open with a creak he immediately fell into the arms of James Potter and began profusely apologising, “I’m sorry, James. I'm so sorry for intruding but you said I was welcome if I needed to, and it hurts,” he said at lightning speed, tears falling down his cheeks. James stood stunned and immediately called for his mum, helping Regulus stumble into the brightly lit living room. Sirius was sitting on the floor playing chess with Remus and Pete was sitting against the wall giving them both tips. When Sirius saw Regulus the game was immediately abandoned. He pushed himself away from the chess board and all the pieces hit the rug with soft thumps. He rushed over to Regulus side, his grey eyes wide.
“Reggie? Can you hear me? What did she do to you Reg?” Sirius asked, brushing Regulus’ black, tangled hair from his eyes. Euphemia rushed in and immediately removed his trousers and cast healing spells on his calves. The gashes were deep, jagged and due to them being magical wounds would leave nasty scars. Painkiller potions were administered to Regulus. So much was happening at once, the noise in his ears made it hard to focus. He could distantly hear Sirius talking to him barely audible over the high-pitched ringing in his ears, “Siri?” Regulus muttered with a small smile, he’d missed his brother since he’d ran away last christmas.
Sirius’ heart broke at Regulus’ small voice. He was used to his brother’s strength, not seeing him so fragile and broken, seeing him like that was confusing and painful. Sirius knew the pain that Regulus was in; he was the only one in the room who could truly empathise, he gently stroked regulus’ cheek , “It’s okay, Reg. I'm here. I'll always be here. You’re gonna be okay don’t worry,” Sirius reassured, although, deep down he wasn’t sure what he was saying was true.
Regulus trembled, desperately trying to focus on his brother's voice, ignoring the excruciating pain that still lingered in his bones. He could feel the familiar sensation of Sirius’ fingers in his hair. He remembered when they were kids. After an argument with their parents, Sirius would sneak into his room and run his fingers through his hair, comforting him like this. He felt a wave of exhaustion and deep relief wash over his body. “Siri… I missed you,” Regulus mumbled softly, his eyes barely staying open. He caught a glimpse of Sirius’ worried expression before falling into a deep dreamless sleep on the Potter’s sofa.
He woke to the feeling of the sofa dipping at his feet and his eyes slowly fluttered open. He pushed himself up on his elbows and blinked, clearing the sleep from his eyes as short brown hair and round glasses frames came into view. A weak smile tugged at his lips, “James?” he whispered and James turned to him with a soft look on his face. “Hey Reg,” James spoke softly to him “You feeling alright, mate?” James grinned, the nickname playful on his tongue. Regulus sighed and shrugged “Comme ci, comme ça” he said with a small smile “feeling better now i can talk to you” he added quietly, his face turning pink. James laughed “mmm good to see you awake, you’ve been asleep nearly 14 hours,” he said and Regulus’ jaw dropped, his eyebrows rose in disbelief. He felt like he had only been asleep a few hours, he was still exhausted! James frowned at his shock, “you’re still tired?” he asked his brows knitting together in concern. “You can go back to sleep if you want mate. No one’s judging you. Sirius slept for nearly two days when he first arrived,” James said quietly, he hated thinking about the night Sirius arrived at his fireplace. Reg shook his head “I’m okay, promise.” He said definitively, “I wanna talk to you, I've missed you.” he added in a tiny whisper.
They stayed up talking until Euphemia came down the stairs and switched the living room light on. She frowned at the two boys and scolded James for getting in the way of Regulus’ needed rest. “Come on Jamie, you should know better! Regulus needs sufficient rest before term starts next week,” she scolded but there was no real harshness to her words. James looked at the ground, clearly unaccustomed to his mothers reprimands, “sorry mum,” he said, his voice laced with defeat. Regulus wanted to reassure them, to say it was really fine and he loved James’ company, but thought better of it when he saw the disappointed look on Effie's face.
Regulus laid his head back down onto the pillow on the sofa with a small pained groan, all his joints ached as if he’d run a marathon and not just ridden his broom for twenty minutes. The softness of the pillow did little to help the throbbing in his temples, a reminder of his pure exhaustion. He took a deep breath, smelling the faint scent of parchment and herbs in the air, perhaps from the bookshelves and plants in the room. He let his eyes flutter closed, feeling the steady rise and fall of his chest, willing the tension in his bones to dissipate. Thoughts of his mother flooded his mind, sharp and unwelcome. He forced his eyes open, unwilling to let them take root now.
“Effie?” he mumbled, his voice barely audible, he picked at his slender fingers, his long nails tracing each knuckle. “Yes dear,” Euphemia replied from her spot on the other sofa, she glanced up from her book, closing it softly to avoid startling Regulus. “I don’t have to go back, do i?” Reg asked quietly, his shoulders raised and tense as he waited for her reply. His eyes were wide and pleading as they darted from the ground to her again and then back to the ground. Euphemia’s expression softened further and her lips curved into a smile. She kneeled next to the quivering boy and laid her warm hands against his pale shaky ones, “Of course not darling, I'd never forgive myself if I sent you back to that hell hole.” Regulus smiled, his shoulders losing some of their previous tension, and nodded in a small gesture of thanks that meant more to Effie than words ever could.
The sun rose into the sky and the frost that had collected on the grass the night before began to melt. The temperature steadily climbed to a bearable 6°, warm for a British winter day, but regulus still shivered. It felt as though the coldness had sunk into his bones and joints the night before and was stubbornly staying put. He pulled the blanket Euphemia had given him tighter around him and sat up on the sofa with a pain-riddled gasp. He let his head fall back against the soft fabric of the cushions and shakely exhaled, “Merlin,” he grumbled under his breath; he shook out his aching limbs and reached down to where his bag had been discarded in the rush of his arrival last night.
He hadn’t packed much, just his school robes, his wand, a few changes of clothes, and his most prized possession: Watership down by Richard Adams. It's a muggle book that Remus lent him when he was in first year and somehow, it had turned into less of a story and more of a refuge for Regulus. He picked up his heavy book bag and carefully took out the worn out, well-loved book. He ran his fingers over the dog-eared page corners and turned the paperback over in his hands, the pages were fragile from so many readings; and the cover showed signs of wear from being tossed around in his trunk, but none of it bothered him. In fact, there was something comforting in having something so imperfect while growing up in the sterile life of aristocracy; it was a quiet act of rebellion against his parents, something they couldn’t punish. He opened the book and quietly began reading the pages. He knew the story inside and out now from the countless times he had read it, whether that was in his slytherin dorm, or his cold, stark room at 12 Grimmauld Place. He felt as though his body warmed through as he immersed himself in the kinder world of the book; everything around him faded away as he turned the pages of what he often considered a lifeline in moments of distress. The comfort the book had given him in the cold embrace of his old life was not lost on Regulus as he read, and he was grateful that he had this comfort, unlike many in the noble house of Black.
Regulus was pulled from his solitude when he heard his older brother's familiar voice. “Reggie? Reg? Are you here?” Sirius’ voice echoed in the room, teasing. Regulus put the book down and shot him a glare. Despite their similar features, large grey eyes, a strong jawline, pitch black hair, Sirius had always looked older and more polished. That annoyed Regulus. They held eye contact for a moment, Regulus frowning while Sirius bit back a smile. “I missed you baby brother,” Sirius finally spoke, his tone softening. Regulus’ frown only deepened. “I’m not a baby,” Regulus snapped, “I'm barely two years younger than you!” he said, closing his book and slipping it under his pillow. Sirius smirked and dropped down on the sofa next to him with a huff. “How are you?” he asked, his tone joking but Regulus knew the question was serious. He mumbled an “I’m fine,” under his breath and picked at his fingers distractedly. His stomach churned at the thought of causing his big brother worry, he dug his nails into skin. Stupid, Regulus thought to himself, I shouldn't have even come here. Sirius frowned, noticing his brother's inner turmoil and pried his hands away from one another, “you’re going to hurt yourself if you keep doing that.” He spoke with true concern in his voice. He furrowed his brows as he inspected Regulus’ ice cold skin like it was the most precious thing in the world. Regulus’ eyes drifted to his hands for a moment. He felt the familiar warmth of his brother's touch. It pulled him back to when they were kids, he shook away the thought and jerked his hands back harshly. “Stop it, you freak,” he said with the ghost of a smile on his face which Sirius returned.
They spoke to each other quietly, their voices nothing but soft whispers. They sat together on the Potter’s tweed sofa; the material was soft under their skin. Their voices were low and intimate as Regulus bared his soul to his older brother. Sirius listened attentively, his eyes were wide and empathetic as his brother explained what Walburga had done to him. The rage that consumed Sirius was unimaginable as Regulus explained vividly how he believed their mother had left him to die in the dark entry hall. He could almost feel the red hotness of anger take control over his body as he breathed a shaky sigh, he didn’t want to scare Reggie but the fury he felt was unrelenting and all consuming. Regulus admitted his biggest fear was their mother and father. Their parents. The people who were supposed to keep them safe. Sirius stayed with him, secretly relating to the younger boy's words. His warm hands softly brushed away Regulus’ tears; his cheeks were soft and freckles danced over his small nose, looking like little stars on his pale face. It wasn’t fair that they had to live like that for so many years. Reg is just a child. Sirius thought to himself his mind was still clouded with rage, so am I.
As the day wore on, Regulus began feeling his exhaustion gradually fade. He spent his afternoon helping Effie with the washing up while she made lunch for everyone. He stole glances out the large kitchen window and watched while Sirius, James, Remus, and Peter played an unconventional game of quidditch in the large back garden. As the evening crept closer, Regulus and James found themselves alone in James’ bedroom. Regulus sat on James’ neatly made bed cross-legged while James searched through his wardrobe for some pajamas that wouldn’t swamp Regulus. “I don’t know how I managed to forget pajamas,” he said with a small, embarrassed laugh, he looked at his hands and idly picked his knuckles. James shrugged and turned to him, a soft smile on his lips. “Happens to the best of us,” he murmured, his tone teasing. He pulled a pair of plaid pajama bottoms and a baggy, slightly faded Queen t-shirt out his old wardrobe. James held them out to Regulus with a casual confidence, reassuring Reg they’d fit just fine. He reached out and his and James’ hands brushed briefly as he took the pajamas. James’ hand stayed for a second too long, and a light blush coloured Regulus’ cheeks. “Thanks,” he mumbled under his breath. Regulus clutched the pajamas to his chest and glanced up at James, who smiled softly at him. The warmth spread further down Regulus’ cheeks and he awkwardly averted his gaze, his heart racing. His black curls fell over his eyes as he focused his gaze anywhere but James. He swallowed hard, his Adam's apple bobbing in his throat. He hugged the pajamas closer to his chest, James' warm smile lingering in his mind. He couldn’t shake the feeling of it. You’re gonna be the death of me. Regulus thought to himself, trying and failing to suppress his own smile.
He changed into the oversized pajamas in James’ cramped bathroom, stepping out with a flush of embarrassment creeping up his face and neck. The loose clothes felt awkward, a far cry from the meticulously tailored garments he was used to. Yet, there was an unexpected comfort in their softness, though the sensation remained foreign to him. He tugged at the hem of the t-shirt, running the velvety cotton between his thumb and finger, grounding himself in the softness. When he finally lifted his gaze to meet James’, he smiled tentatively, a silent expression of gratitude. Together, they joined Peter, Remus and Sirius in the living room. They played some board games, their laughter echoing through the room. For Regulus, happiness like this was a distant memory. At 12 Grimmauld Place, he had never been allowed to show unrestrained, carefree joy. Now, he was determined to make up for lost time. For the first time in years, his smile was genuine, reaching not just his lips but his eyes.
Soon after Peter left to go back to his own house, Sirius and James went up to bed, leaving Remus and Regulus alone in the living room. They sat cross-legged on the shaggy, wool rug facing each other in the dim light. It's a dark cream colour and slightly worn. After a pause, Remus glanced up and spoke softly, his voice carrying a quiet understanding. “Scar-Diminishing Serum helps,” he said quietly, gesturing with his head to Reg's calves. “And I’ve got some E45 cream I use on mine; it’s muggle, don’t know how you feel about using that.” He trailed off absentmindedly plucking at the rug with his scarred fingers. Regulus offered a faint smile. “Thanks, Remus,” he murmured, mirroring his gesture as his fingers brushed the rug's fibres. His eyes flicked up at the fading scars scattered across Remus’ face and he thought about how painful it must have been after he had inflicted them. Tilting his head slightly, he asked in a shaky, regret-tinged voice, “Do they… hurt forever?” Remus held his gaze for a moment, his warm brown eyes studying Regulus’ pale, wiry frame. “While they’re fresh they do,” he admitted quietly, “but after a while you’ll barely notice them. Sometimes, you even forget they’re there.” Regulus hummed softly at Remus’ words, running his fingers absentmindedly over his bandaged calves. The warmth of the Potter’s home settled into his aching bones, filling the spaces where cold had lived for too long. It was strange, this feeling of safety. Almost unfamiliar enough to make him uneasy. But as he sat there, Remus’ quiet presence beside him, the muffled sound of James and Sirius talking upstairs, and the distant clatter of Euphemia in the kitchen, he let himself believe, just for a moment, that he could belong here.
Tomorrow, they will go to Diagon Alley and Tomorrow, life will go on. But for now, he was here. And for the first time in a long time, that was more than enough.