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Regulus Black was born drowning. Something about living had never come easy to him, no matter how much he practiced. Even something as simple as breathing had always taken too much effort. However, Regulus does not give up easily, regardless of what others may say about him. Was he a coward? Maybe, but he was stubborn, and he refused to back down, and that had to count for something.
Sirius Black was born kicking and screaming. He had thrived since day one, and that was what set him and Regulus apart. Sirius didn’t have to think before he spoke. Eye contact came naturally to him, and he breathed like he wanted to. Like he wanted to be alive. Regulus could not relate.
The day Sirius turned sixteen was the worst day of Regulus’s life. Ironically, it was probably the best day for his brother. The Noble House of Black has a way of ruining you. The minute you step inside, you feel a deep sense of dread. It digs under your skin and makes a home there, and even after you left, it was hard to shake off. At school, Sirius could usually shake it off. He could push it all down, all the rotten feelings, and pretend to be okay. He was happy at Hogwarts, and tried his hardest to be happy at home, which was an admittedly impossible feat. Remus, James, and Pete knew about his home life; about his mother. That made it easier; made it somewhat bearable. Atleast until he was home again, with his mother much too close and his brother much too far.
Regulus, on the other hand, found being happy a lot more difficult, regardless of his location. He was numb at home, numb at Hogwarts, numb everywhere. He was used to it. He found comfort in its predictability. Sometimes he wished to be normal, but that’s an unrealistic wish. He knows himself well enough to know that.
July 29th changed everything.
“Can I go see James today?” Sirius asks over breakfast. Regulus looks up from his porridge, wincing when he sees the look in his mother’s eyes. He looks back down, ignoring his rapidly increasing heart rate.
“You will not be seeing that blood traitor today. Or any other day,” Walburga responds, tone clipped. Sirius looks upset for a minute, before his face stills and he continues to eat his breakfast. Regulus sighs in relief. Perhaps today will be a good day. It’s a Friday, which means Walburga will be out most of the day running errands. Neither of the boys have ever dared to question where she goes. Their father is at work, and won’t be home until evening. Maybe they can do something for Sirius’ birthday, once the house is empty. Maybe it will be a good day.
“But, it’s my birthday. I’d only see him for a few hours,” Sirius says, interrupting the thick silence that fell over the dining room like a blanket. Regulus inhales. Exhales. And again, and again. Shit, why is Sirius doing this? Regulus tenses, afraid of what’s to come.
“Sirius, I said no. That’s final. I’d recommend thinking before you speak next,” Walburga responds, her plate now cleared. She snaps for Kreacher., who appears with a crack. The house elf’s head is bowed as he clears her plate. Kreacher glances at Walburga, before hurriedly clearing the boys’ plates as well. Regulus wasn’t done, and he doubts Sirius was, but he’s not one to complain. Silence hurts, and so does hunger, but he knows other things hurt a lot worse. Sirius knows this too.
“Please, Maman?” Sirius asks, sounding a bit unhinged. Inhale. And…no exhale. Not yet. Regulus will breathe when the air isn’t so suffocating, when his brother shuts up and their mother leaves them alone.
“Sirius, this behavior is unacceptable. Regulus, to your room,” Walburga orders. Regulus stands up, against his will. It’s like he is a puppet, and his mother holds the strings. He keeps his eyes down, head down.. Out of sight, out of mind.
“Yeah, just do whatever she says, Reg. Don’t worry about it,” Sirius says, tone sharp. Regulus still doesn’t exhale. He feels a bit lightheaded now, but that just makes it easier to stay silent. He’s in the hallway now; he hears a shout, and a crash as a chair presumably falls to the floor.
He puts his hands over his ears and walks. Walks to his door, and goes inside, and slowly slides down against the door to sit. He exhales finally, feeling the oxygen rush to his brain. If he concentrates hard enough, he can convince himself that it’s fine. That the house is silent, and Sirius really did go to James’. Regulus has gotten good at pretending.
Sometimes he feels like he’s not in control of anything. Of his body, of his mind, of his voice. But that’s just him being a coward, probably. A way to justify his actions so he can sleep at night. But it doesn’t help him sleep. Quite the opposite, actually. Because if he’s not in control, then who is he? What parts of him are his, and what parts are just what his mother wants him to be? But if he is in control, then he has to admit he’s a terrible person. A terrible person, a horrible son, and a much worse brother. That is a hard thing to admit, and Regulus decides to save that train of thought for another day. For a day when he can breathe better, and when living comes as naturally to him as it seems to come to Sirius.
Walburga’s shouts get louder. So do Sirius’. Eventually, it goes so silent that Regulus can hear nothing but his own thoughts. He hears the front door slam, and knows he’s safe to leave. Or as safe as one can be in this house. He opens the door, wincing as it creaks. He slowly goes downstairs, avoiding the parts on the stairs that are the loudest.
Maybe today will be different. Maybe Sirius will be fine. Regulus knows that hope is futile, but at the end of the day, he’s still a kid. So’s Sirius.
“Sirius?” Regulus calls out in a whisper. His voice is hoarse from lack of use. He hears a grunt in response, from the dining room. He approaches, and is not really too surprised by what he sees.
Sirius is on the ground. No blood to be found, but his body shakes in violent bursts. Sirius’ eyes flicker from opened to closed at a rapid pace, and Regulus knows it’s just a matter of time before he passes out.
They’re used to it.
Regulus grabs a cup of water from the table before squatting down next to his brother.
“Reg?” Sirius mutters, pain evident in his voice. His eyes are closed now.
“Mhm,” Regulus responds, offering the water to Sirius. Sirius reaches for it, his hand trembling. “It’s okay, she left.”
“It’s not okay,” Sirius responds, taking a small sip of water. He goes to put it down, but he’s shaking so badly he almost spills. Regulus gently grabs the cup from him.
Regulus shrugs. What’s he to say? Of course it’s not okay, but it’s their life. Always has been and always will be. Regulus doesn’t realize he’s spoken this aloud until he sees Sirius stare at him incredulously.
“This doesn’t have to be our life,” Sirius says, eyes now frantically flicking back and forth. “I have to go. She’s going to kill me. I have to leave.”
Regulus nods, ignoring the knot in his chest.
“Okay,” he whispers. He can feel it in his throat now.
“Okay? Reg, you can come with me. We can get away from her,” Sirius says as he starts to sit up. He grimaces, but does it anyway.
“I can’t,” Regulus says simply.
“Can’t? What the fuck do you mean, Reg? She’s going to kill me, and then you. We’re not safe here.”
“Are we safe anywhere?”
“The Potters’ said I can stay with them. That we can stay with them. We’d be safe.” Sirius says, almost desperately. Regulus shakes his head. Inhale, exhale. Inhale, exhale. Good.
“Please.” Sirius says. He’s standing now, straightening his shirt. “Maman won’t be home for hours. We can leave now and she wouldn’t even know until we were far away. This is our chance.”
“I can’t.” Regulus repeats. Sirius runs a hand through his hair, exasperated. He summons his trunk with a quick flick of his wand.
“Can’t? Or won’t? I’m asking you to do this for me. To do this for you. Don’t you get it? She’s going to kill me.”
“I can’t, I can’t. I’m sorry,” Regulus says. It hurts to speak now.
“Well I can. And I am. Please come with me,” Sirius says, staring at his little brother. Regulus won’t meet his eyes. The younger boy shakes his head again, shame pooling in his gut.
“Fine. Stay with them and be her puppet. Just know that you have the power to change it,” Sirius says bitterly.
“Please don’t leave. Don’t leave me,” Regulus whispers, well aware of how pathetic he sounds. Inhale. Inhale, inhale.
“I’m not leaving. You’re choosing to stay behind.” Sirius responds, no longer sounding angry. He sounds so incredibly defeated. Regulus has never felt more ashamed as he does right in this very moment.
Regulus doesn’t know what happens next. He stays on the floor, rocking slowly back and forth. He hears the front door open and close, presumably Sirius leaving, but he doesn’t move. He can’t move, even if he wanted to. Does he want to? Regulus has never known what he wants. He never has, and never will.
Eventually, Walburga comes home. She’s enraged to find Sirius gone. Regulus is unresponsive no matter how many curses she shoots at him. She sends him to his room, eventually, and he goes. He goes because of course he does. Walburga can’t say she’s proud of her creation, but she’s not too disappointed either. After the way Sirius turned out, Regulus is their last hope.
On the train a month later, Sirius and Regulus don’t talk. Sirius tries to meet his eyes from across the platform, but Regulus won’t look up. He never looks up.