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The dim light from the lamp on the coffee table brightened the room just enough for James to make out the shape of his living room, smothered in the grey of late night, well, early morning. He checked his new watch - a family heirloom, one of his Christmas gifts - and saw it was almost half 4.
He really ought to sleep. Tomorrow - well, today, rather - was Boxing Day; and every year on Boxing Day his parents hosted the big Christmas party. He’d have to be up reasonably early to help prepare.
But how could he sleep, after the events of that evening. The sight of Sirius, crumpled in the fireplace he now sat facing. Body limp from the exhaustion of the torture. Sirius hadn't spoken about it; he’d barely been conscious for half an hour, and then immediately got helped into the guest room, to sleep, and rest it off.
And even once he was awake tomorrow James doubted he would want to speak about it. He had heard his parents' urgent whispers earlier than night, eavesdropping on the staircase: they suspected Unforgivables. The Torture Curse. Cruciatus.
And James knew that Sirius’ parents were bad people. He knew that they were blood-purist bigots, and he’d experienced Sirius after a particularly bad nightmare, sweaty and shaking, murmuring about his family.
But when James saw him there, crumpled, unconscious in his fireplace, looking like a vulnerable child - he hated Sirius’ parents with such vicious and ferocious intensity he could barely breathe. As if his blood was literally boiling under his skin.
James tried not to get angry. He knew emotions were inevitable; everybody felt angry, and sad, and scared - but anger was a dangerous emotion. Blind, seething, uncontrollable.
It was easy to hurt people when you were angry. And James never wanted to hurt anyone. Not properly hurt. Especially not those he cared about. He needed to protect them, and that meant pushing any inkling of anger down to the bottom of his stomach.
But tonight was different.
The last specks of Christmas in the air were fading. James was exhausted, and worried about Sirius, but more than all of that; overriding every reasonable urge inside him, was that spark. Dangerous. Burning scarlet. Anger, directed at the woman and man who'd raised, and hurt, his best friend.
The spark he would usually push down.
But he didn't, this time. Instead, he stood, grabbing the invisibility cloak next to him. He walked to the cabinet where the Floo Powder was kept.
‘Number 12.’ He muttered,
‘Grimmauld Place.’
He felt the dizzying but familiar sensation through his body, and he found himself sitting pressed against the cold marble of a far larger fireplace.
The room he was in was spacious, and sharply cold. The floor, smooth mahogany, with a large chandelier on the ceiling, devoid of any light. It was empty, and eerily quiet.
James stood, and pulled his invisibility cloak over himself; walking toward the spiralled staircase. He surveyed the doors he saw in the dim corridor. 3 on either side.
He had no real way to figure out which room was which, all smooth oak, and all firmly shut. However, after a few moments of him standing there, one of the doors opened. He bit back a gasp, his heart beating a million miles a minute. Out of the door came Regulus Black. Sirius’s brother.
James’ eyes widened at the boy.
He was used to seeing Regulus, in corridors at school, with his neat white shirt, tight green tie, and stern, emotionless look on his pale face. But now, James saw tears stained on his cheeks, and an unguarded, unmistakable look of pain in his grey eyes. James' anger paused, giving way for a stab of sympathy.
Regulus, oblivious to the invisible boy staring at him, opened the door next to the one he just exited, and walked in. James could see as he entered that it was a bathroom.
So, he registered, that one was Regulus’ bedroom, and the one beside it a bathroom, he turned around to survey the 3 doors on the other side, resolute to find Sirius’ parents, and do something. What exactly, he wasn’t sure, but at least something, to punish them for-
James stopped, as he heard a sound from the door behind him. The bathroom Regulus had just entered. He listened.
Again. Unmistakable. A sob. Muffled, but undeniable. James felt another sharp stab. Regulus was crying. James hated the sound of crying. It filled him with a visceral sadness. The vulnerable sound of unhidden pain.
James forgot his anger for a moment.
He forgot logic too - and the fact that he had technically broken into somebody's home. No, not just somebody, but the most dangerous family in the Wizarding World.
He gently opened the bathroom door, pulling off his invisibility cloak - he didn't want Regulus to start thinking his house was haunted. Well, James considered, it was, with the parents he had.
James froze at the sight before him.
Regulus was crumpled on the floor, knees drawn up, arms exposed.
And - oh.
Blood trickled down his wrists. Fresh Cuts. A wand in Regulus’ hand was the clear culprit. There were tears running down his cheeks.
James quickly shut the bathroom door, making sure to shut it gently.
Regulus looked up at him, panic setting in his eyes. He grabbed his arms, holding them against himself, trying to hide the cuts, and hide his face, and the tears.
‘Hey, hey, it's ok.’ James whispered, softly.
He murmured a quick silencing charm on the room, and then knelt down on the floor next to Regulus. Regulus moved away, against the wall.
‘I’m not gonna hurt you. I promise. I- I just wanna help. Can I help? You're bleeding, Regulus. Bad.’
‘No.’ He said, gripping his wand, facing it toward James, his hand shaking,
‘Why are you even here? Sirius isn't here. Go!’
James moved back slightly, trying to calm the boy in front of him. He’d never seen Regulus uncomposed, and that was clearly something intentional in how he presented himself. In such a vulnerable position, Regulus was spiraling.
‘You can't tell.’ He muttered, eyes wild, wand still pointed,
‘You won't tell-’
‘I don't want to tell anyone anything, Regulus. I just wanna help you. My mum's a healer, I can help. That's all. I promise.’
Regulus’ eyes flickered. He didn't move.
‘I won't touch you.’ James murmured softly,
‘Not if you don't want me to. Just, hold out your arms for me?’
Regulus didn't move at first.
‘Regulus.’ James swallowed, knowing his next words might cause more panic,
‘I’ve already seen them. It doesn't make any difference. I just want to heal them. Please?’
Regulus gingerly held out his arms, and James did exactly as he said he’d do. He healed each one, muttering the spell over and over, like a mantra.
After healing the scars, James got a wad of tissue, slightly wetting them in the sink and then turned to Regulus.
‘Can I clean the blood?’
Regulus didn't respond. But he didn't pull away, and James gingerly wiped the tissue on Regulus’ arms, cleaning the dried blood that had trickled down.
He made sure to be as gentle as possible. He didn't know how - when Regulus had been someone he’d barely even exchanged words with, and knew only as Sirius’ brother - but he felt an overwhelming urge to make sure Regulus never felt scared again. Of anything. Ever.
After healing his wounds, James turned to look at his face.
‘Regulus.’ He spoke softly,
‘... Why’d you cut yourself?’
He scoffed. That was a lot more like the Regulus Black he recognized,
‘Don't act like you care.’
‘I do care.’ He said quietly,
‘It’s dangerous.’
‘I’ve been through worse.’ He shot back.
James felt it again. Sharper. The overwhelming sympathy. Regulus was right. That was the worst part. They'd hurt him. They'd hurt him, just like they'd hurt Sirius.
Only Sirius escaped. He had James, he had someone to lean on, to help him through it. Regulus only had the familiar comfort of pain. Of slicing his skin to feel something other than the heavy weight of his life of torture.
James felt tears well up in his own eyes.
‘I know.’ was his response,
‘I know. But… Merlin, Regulus… you don't have to do this.’
‘You know nothing about me.’ Regulus spat back.
‘I know that you're hurting.’ James replied.
‘I’m fine.’ He said, voice faltering.
‘I’m fine.’ He repeated, resolutely.
‘I’m fine on my own, I don't need your help, or your fake sympathy, like you care, because you don't!’ He was almost shouting now. James could see tears welling up in Regulus’ eyes. He could see the mask slip. He could hear, as Regulus’ breath quickened. He could see the panic set in, in Regulus’ eyes.
James spoke softly,
‘Hey, hey. Breathe.’ He gently took Regulus’ hand, a habit from when Sirius got panic attacks. Regulus didn't pull away.
‘It's okay. You can take your time, you're safe. In, first, then out. Okay? I’ll do it with you.’
James breathed in, then out. Regulus did the same, eyes screwed up, tears sliding down his face. He was holding tightly on James’ hand, seemingly subconsciously.
Once Regulus’ breathing was less erratic, James took his glasses off, and muttered the spell he’d learnt in Transfiguration, 4th year.
Fortunately, it worked, and he saw - slightly blurrily - a cup.
‘Aguamente.’ He said, and handed the cup of water to Regulus.
Regulus sipped it, then muttered, ‘Thank You,’
without looking at James.
‘Its ok. Do you feel better?’ He asked.
‘Yeah.’ Regulus mumbled. He looked down, and seemingly suddenly noticed that he was holding James’ hand. He dropped it, panic flickering in his eyes again.
‘Oh my gosh. Sorry. I didn't even- Sorry.’
‘Hey, it's ok.’ James replied quickly, quelling his panic,
‘I don't mind. You're good, Regulus. You're okay.’
He nodded, taking a few more sips of the water, then he handed the cup back.
‘There. You'd better get your glasses back.’
James grinned,
‘Yeah, good point. I can barely see.’
He transfigured them back, and the world came in, more sharply focused.
They sat there for another minute, on the bathroom floor, in deep silence.
Regulus spoke.
‘You'd better go. Before morning.’
James blinked,
‘Are you kidding?’
Regulus looked at him blankly,
‘What do you mean?’
‘Do you seriously think I’m just gonna leave you here?’ He asked.
Regulus blinked, looking utterly shocked, as he took in James’ words,
‘...What?’
‘Regulus. I’m not just gonna watch you have a panic attack in your bathroom, and then leave you in a house alone with your abusive parents. Is that really shocking to you?’
He didn't respond. He looked frozen.
‘You can come live with me. Obviously.’
‘But… Sirius is your friend, not me. Why would you wanna help me? What do you get out of it?’
James took Regulus’ hand again. And Regulus didn't drop it.
‘I want to help you, because I care.’ James said softly,
‘Because you don't deserve the torture of this house. Nobody does. You don't have to be alone. I want to help you.’
Regulus looked at James, with such desperate disbelief, that James wanted to cry. Had he never experienced kindness before?
He hated how surprised he was, for something James saw as the bare minimum.
‘Oh.’ Regulus simply said. He looked at James’ hand, holding his, like a physical manifestation of his words.
‘Come on.’ James said.He stood up, and pulled the invisibility cloak over both of them.
They walked as quietly as possible to the fireplace.
And as they flooed back to his house, the early dawn light visible from his living room window, James was still holding onto Regulus’ hand. And Regulus was holding on too.