Chapter Text
--Sirius
The room is dark, a warm light peeks out from in the corridor, and muffled voices follow. And although the darkness, Sirius is somehow able to feel a little warmth. In the brick fireplace in front of him he can see a small green flame slowly dying out, it's still hanging on as best as it can, and maybe there's some poetry in that. Sirius can barely register all of that though, and through all the pain he’s experiencing the only way to express himself is through screams.
He screams and cries and screams again. His own mother, his goddamn mother. No, no, not a mother, that scum of a human being is a monster.
Flashbacks come in flashes, bones breaking, voices shouting. Pain, pain, pain.
Dinner, a few sips of wine, one word too much, one secret too unbearable to just sit by and watch.
Glass breaking, red spilled all over.
And so that chapter of his life ends, and he's left alone with no family, no home.
A small touch reaches out, and with no control, all emotions and pain come back. The reminders of what happened wash all over him, his body tenses and after the long adrenaline rush he's left with the bruises of it all, sprayed out all over his body. Laying down in the maroon carpet he's painfully rolled over by a gentle hand so as not to choke on blood. His chin and half of his face is bloodied. And when his mouth is washed he can't help but continue to cry and scream as the iron taste burns his tongue– and he is brought back to Grimmauld Place.
The events of last night: Sirius, lashing out way too much and his mother calling him a disappointment. Regulus doing nothing, all while she throws curses at him that will leave definite marks on his back, and his father standing behind his mother not even caring enough to look at him.
She laughs as she curses him, laughing at the name of the curse. “Crucio”.
He blacks out on the floor even though he tries not to, he won’t let her get the upper hand. He tries to yell some insult, make some kind of defense or even an attack, but nothing comes out of his mouth. The next thing he knows is a mass of maddening pain. His limbs going all the wrong directions and the squeaky sound of bones breaking, along with his head stumbling loudly onto the ground. She had used a harsh body bind so that he could not move anything except his arms and legs, leading to pulled muscles and muffled screams of agony. The smell of harsh magic, even when she quickly healed the bones, before starting once again, never healing them enough to remove the pain, just enough for him to be on the brink of death. He stares at Regulus one last time, hope glistening in his own eyes. He cries out for help but Regulus does not move an inch. He still has that cold uncomfortable and creepy expression on his face, boredom found in it more than anything else.
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Forgetting the trauma of the night before, Sirius tries to get up. Immediate mistake. He has to lie there for what feels like eternity before trying again. This time he makes it to a full crunch before falling back down painfully. Distinctly he sees a body move fast off its seat before walking up to him. Before he has time to scream at the thought of someone touching him, he senses the warmth and the gentle hand on his shoulder, he would know James everywhere. After all, there's only so many people that are able to radiate warmth off of them. Why or how he doesn't know. Promptly doesn't care. All that matters is that he now feels safe—it's been a while—maybe it's a fever dream, maybe not, but right now he feels safe.
He clings to James crying once again, crying all those unshed tears of years of miserableness, unfair punishments, lost time and potential happiness.
He doesn’t want to go back. No matter what, he fears what they’re going to do to him. He needs to get away.
“I’ll talk to mom and dad, we’ll figure it out, Sirius. Don’t worry. I’ll never let you go back there. I promise.” he sounds truthful, and so Sirius decides to trust him. He will always trust him, when has James ever lied before?
He embarrassingly continues crying. About all the unfair parts of his childhood, all the abuse, all the sadness and anger. And in the end, after what feels like hours of crying, screaming and clinging to the one and only James, he feels nothing but numbness.
Effie walks in incredibly kind and soft spoken and asks something about his eating habits. She leaves him when she realizes she won't get any answers, and tells him “to get some rest”. Still, Sirius is oblivious to most around him and doesn't react, continuing the processing of feelings and emotions.
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It took him exactly 23 days before he was able to speak, exactly 23 days of living like he had been in a coma. In that state he couldn't really think, talk or move but could faintly hear everything around him. Literally the definition of a coma.
The first few days consisted only of muffled crying, untouched food, and very little human interaction. But slowly, he started interacting with the others a bit more, attending family dinners but making no real discussion. Steadily, a routine had formed. He got up at least twice a day to shower—with James, he's not capable on his own, which is pathetic at the very least—and to piss in the loo. Nevertheless after what should feel like weeks but feels more like yesterday, the images and flashbacks still remained in his mind.
Late at night, he would hear Effie worrying over him to Monty when they thought he was asleep. The word mute, and mind healer would be used a lot. James tried to smile through it as much as he could, but it was obvious he too had lost his spark. He spent most of his time on the quidditch pitch or in his room. But still came to Sirius just to sit in silence. Neither of them really knew what to say anymore, or in his case could. Suddenly all the things they used to talk about in school seemed like dumb nonsense.
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He didn't really sleep that much, but when he did there were mostly nightmares. His first couple of nightmares in Potter Manor were obviously, as he should have expected, about Reggie. His little brother. Most of his nightmares were about him. And that same night, he experienced three terrible ones. The dream started like always;
Sirius in the corner of a dark room, Reggie was smiling at him, he was young. They were playing, everything was fine. Reggie was happy, Sirius was happy, they were playing tic tac toe. Without any paper though, as kids they weren’t allowed to play many games, and so they learned to play with their imagination, by seeing the game in front of them. Regulus was winning, but that was because Sirius was letting him. He always did that, saying he had forgotten where he had put his “O” or just conventionally didn't see Reggie’s winning plan.
Then, Sirius noticed their parents starting to walk slowly behind Reggie. Sirius was suddenly in a body bind and couldn't move nor speak. He was left screaming in his mind trying to warn Reggie about the wand pointed behind him. As always, he couldn’t stop it, he never could. Instead he sat there watching the people many call family, torture his little brother in cold blood.
He jolts up, sweat all over his face and the neck of his shirt, hurting a bit at the motion. He looks around confused about where he currently is, Reggie being the only thing in his mind and finding him to see if he’s okay, his only intention. He sees the bed, feels the warmth compared to the cold darkness he remembers and realization hits.
Sirius tries to calm himself down, taking a sip of the water Effie carefully put on the nightstand next to him. He tries to clear his head and sleep but his body is physically not letting him. He just continues turning around on the now uncomfortably warm bed.
After an agonizingly boring 15 minutes he tries to get up, trying to go downstairs and get something to eat, but once again quickly realizes his body’s limits. He leans to take his wand but realizes it’s not on him. As he starts to panic he sees it gently placed, broken, on the nightstand and remembers how it got in that state that night with his parents.
A long while later he downs the sleeping draught that Effie also placed for him on his nightstand, and goes back to sleep hoping for a good dream this time.
His second dream was about his parents, the potters and Reggie. All of them were disappointed at him and not listening to his begging for forgiveness. In the end his voice is hoarse and his feelings raw, displayed in front of him asking what they’re supposed to do, to feel. He’s left there anxious and overwhelmed wondering how to reply.
The last dream of the night was somewhat a happy one;
Him and the marauders living together in the center of London, pranking each other and their mutual friends, and laughing all day and night. He wakes up feeling happy, grateful. Thinking of his plans for the day and grocery shopping of the week. When he goes to sit down and read the newspaper, he sees the name “Regulus Arcturus Black” strongly written on the headline. In that lifetime Reggie was dead, in that lifetime he couldn't bring himself to care on the outside, even though he’s drowning on the inside. He was too happy to let a depressive state take over, so he put it aside and continued his morning.
When he eventually wakes up the next day, he’s left with a weird deja-vu feeling deep inside him.
--Regulus
Regulus stares at the part of the bloodied carpet where Sirius’s body had been laying just moments before. He knew he did a good thing, but his brain kept rejecting his heart's decisions. He had just sent his own brother away, through floo powder, to potter manor. What has he done?
Before he has a breakdown in the public of his own living room, he pulls back at his posture, throws off any evidence of emotion on his face and starts silently walking back into his own room. If he just counts to 30 he’ll be there and finally be able to cry. Just 30 seconds, half a minute. That can be enough, it will have to be.
1..
2..
3.. he avoids the creaky step of the staircase, going through a pattern of movements to be as silent as possible to avoid the unpleasant visit of his parents, who had now retired back to his father's study.
15… a fourth done. Just 3 more to go.
17…
19… the knob of his own dark door slightly creaks at the movement. The only sound of life inside the silent house.
22… he walks into the room slowly, glancing at the already made bed and perfectly placed desk under the windowsill. The sun shines through, giving a slight hint of warmth to the room.
26… he goes to close the door.
27.. he grabs the knob once again and turns it back.
28… he locks the door, his mouth betraying him with a small sigh escaping his dry and quivering lips.
29… he sits on the corner of the bed, not daring to destroy the perfectly placed blanket.
By 31 a tear is shed.
By 36 his heart was swelling.
By 40 the temples on his forehead start bugging him.
By 47 he realizes he's alone. That there’s no going back, he does not have a brother anymore. He’s alone. And he will have to make do so.
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The next day, after an uneventful continuing night and a dreadful breakfast, he hears a soft knock on his door. Kreacher. He’s the only one ever knocking, his parents only summon him through the house elf who's currently behind his door, and Sirius just barges in whenever he wants something. Not anymore though, Sirius is gone, he reminds himself. Wiping his eyes, he mutters an anti-swell charm for his undereyes and quickly brushes his hair to its right place making every strand of hair sit exactly where it's supposed.
“You can come in, Kreacher,” he says, barely showing any hint of emotion.
“Master Regulus is needed at the study, summoned by his parents” Kreacher says, bowing his head towards the previously crying boy.
“Thank you, Kreacher.” he replies somewhat kindly as panic shoots his veins. They can't possibly know he helped Sirius, he covered his tracks. He was sure of it.
He excuses the poor elf, who was waiting for his dismissal before going back to previous house work, and gets up to go to his parents.
“They can’t, they can’t, they can’t”, he repeats the chant to himself in his brain on his way to his father’s study. Avoiding to show any panic, he walks with a normal speed to the study his parents usually occupy.
When he finally gets there he knocks two times before hearing a muttered say of approval and walking in through the door. Perfect posture, face clear of any emotion, hands behind his back. As always.
“You needed me, Father, Mother?” he tries to talk politely, completely ignoring the growing panic under his fake mask.
“Sirius escaped last night, we’re not sure how,” she emphasizes the word ‘how’ a silent, lethal question sitting there between the lines. They can’t know, they can’t know. Instead of buzzing his mind with that he tries to look convincingly surprised at the mention of his brother's escape, “if he does not return throughout the next couple of days, you will be the new heir. Do not dare disappoint like your traitor of a brother.” She says sternly, holding his gaze once he nods.
“You are dismissed.”, she explains when he doesn’t leave immediately, knowing her little games.
She always tries to make you slip up, watches as a hawk for mistakes to discipline you for.
They didn’t know, that’s good, he tells himself on the way back. Sirius is safe, he can have a good life. That’s good.
He’s not here, you are alone, do not disappoint, says a small voice in the back of his head, one that sounds entirely too similar to his mothers. Full of poison with lack of anything else, let alone warmth.
You are alone.
After his breakdown, which consisted of an advanced version of the silencing spell (one he had created quite recently), a lot of tears, screaming and some blood, he sits down on his flawlessly organized desk.
Writing things down has always helped, poems and writing in general always organized his thoughts and feelings. And so he decides to write to one of his closest friends, the one he could always count on, Dorcas.
They met in the second year of Hogwarts, when little Regulus had realized Sirius wasn’t at all that fond of him and went to hide in the abandoned girls toilets. The one no one used due to the wailing and creepy ghost that had taken over over the years, Myrtle. She wasn’t exactly the best company during his breakdowns but she was better than no one. Quickly he learned though that the ghost only craved one thing, attention. So he learned to compliment her as she liked, keeping her at bay while asking for things in return. Mostly her silence on the matter of his hiding and meltdowns but also sometimes gossip or even secrets, ones she heard while eavesdropping inside the bathroom.
One day when he was crying about a particular James Potter, his brother's best friend who had taken Sirius away from him, a pretty girl with radiant dark skin and long dark braids walked into the bathroom teary eyed. She was from his house but they’d never actually spoken, she was quiet and had high grades. Dorcas Meadows she was called, unfortunately a half blood. Not that Regulus had any big care for it, though his parents sure did.
He couldn’t risk her exposing his crying to others so he talked to her, telling her to be silent on the matter. The more he learned about her the more he realized how easy she was to talk to, something he never felt with anyone outside of Sirius.
They quickly became friends and frequently met in the abandoned bathroom, hiding their friendship, until Regulus figured his parents couldn’t very well know his acquaintances at Hogwarts and decided to be more public about it. Many mistook them as a secret couple throughout the years, which was utterly ridiculous. Every time someone came to the conclusion of it they both chuckled or cried in disgust. They started sharing secrets and came to know they both were not interested in boys and girls as all the others in school were, instead they found out they were both gay, an eye opening realization for the both of them. Knowing Regulus wasn’t alone helped him a lot with more potential self hatred and got him to understand how deep his parents had their poisoned claws in him, all the controversial views they had for no apparent reason aside from hate.
Dorcas was always there for him and knew him inside out, which helped a lot especially with his panic attacks and toxic behavior to others.
When he’s finished writing the letter he sends it along with another message attached to it, he instructs the family owl to send it to Evan, one of his other close friends, he usually knows what to do with it but he writes a message anyway. It explains that this message is to be forwarded to Dorcas as urgently as possible. Evan is familiar with this behavior, being happy to send it to Dorcas himself since Walburga and Orion don’t allow him to communicate with half bloods, but he can never be too sure and doesn’t want Evan to read it as it’s full of details he'd rather him not know.
Evan and Barty are both like brothers to him but Dorcas is just more easy to trust with stuff like that, he’s also not sure how they would react with detailed information about his meltdowns, since he refrains from acting like that around them.
After sending the letter, he goes to dinner a couple minutes earlier than expected wanting to make a good impression. He dutifully sits down on his assigned seat and anticipates the food. They always have some extravagant French cuisine, Kreacher takes hours to make, one Regulus is never excited about. He can bear normal food but all those spices and extra calories Kreacher adds makes his stomach curl. Not knowing exactly what and how much of it goes into the food gives him unreasonable anxiety.
But he has to make his parents feel content with his behavior after the scene with Sirius so he'll have to eat. He takes a small amount of everything, not wanting to draw too much attention. Throughout the dinner nobody lets out a huff, not even his mother who usually talks about all the balls happening or attacks that she is planning. Unusual behavior from his mother is never a good thing so he tries to prepare for her words when she opens her mouth.
“In a couple of days you are turning 15, you will attend your birthday ball and dance with several witches. You will open your presents at home with some of the close family. Be presentable, act accordingly” his mother says without missing a beat. He doesn't show disgust and instead replies with a small simple “Of course, mother. I will not disappoint you” the words burn in his mouth.
He forces dirty food down his throat, his stomach threatening to feel sick as it makes its way down his stomach. It feels like eating pins, poking his skin as he slowly swallows it from his dry mouth. He itches to get it out, to open his chest with the silver knife he’s holding and not stop until he’s turned his insides clean. He considers it for a second before realizing who he is and with who he's currently in the same room with, and continues forcing himself eating.
He excuses himself as quickly as possible, wanting to get out of the miserable dinner, saying he will get an early night. As he walks back to his room through the cold and empty corridors he feels his stomach eat itself making him feel sick. He takes a fast turn to the guest bathroom silently and throws some charms before emptying his stomach.
He wipes his mouth and charms away the small mess he made, before going to his room and sitting down on his bed. He stares at the ceiling, feeling nothing but empty inside. Numb at the world accelerating around him.