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Regulus’s head was throbbing. His eyes would not stop watering and all he really wanted to do was to curl up in a warm, dark cave and sleep for eternity. Unfortunately, reality always has to kick him when he is already down.
Not only did Quidditch training take longer than usual, Mulciber was especially snarky and bitchy, barking out orders and sneering side remarks about how Regulus’s posture is, how his turns need to be sharper, how he needs to dive lower–
Each step sent a fresh wave of pain through his skull, a dull, relentless pulse that made his vision blur at the edges. The world felt too bright, too loud, especially beneath the canopy of towering trees. Leaves rustled overhead, branches creaked, insects hummed – every sound grated against his nerves like it was turned up just a little too high.
Yet, Regulus pressed the heel of his palm to his temple and kept walking.
Stopping would only make it worse. He knew that. If he stopped, his legs might give out entirely, and the thought of picking himself up again felt unbearable. So he focused on the path ahead of him, on the familiar shapes of stone and root beneath his feet, even as his balance wavered.
The air was heavy, thick with the promise of rain.
Regulus felt it before he heard it, the shift in pressure, the way wind stilled, the castle grounds holding its breath. A single drop splashed against his cheek, cool and startling. Regulus flinched, blinking up just in time for the sky to open.
The downpour came fast and unforgiving. Fat droplets soaked through his clothes in seconds, plastering fabric to skin, darkening his hair until it clung to his face and neck. The ground beneath him grew slick, mud sticking to the bottom of his shoes, threatening to catch him if he fell.
Perfect. Just perfect.
His headache worsened with the cold, each throb now sharp enough to make him hiss through clenched teeth. He hunched his shoulders against the rain, water streams down his body and he’s so dreadfully cold. All he wanted – all he needed, was warmth. Stillness. Quiet.
He barely registered the shape ahead of him until he walked straight into it.
Or well, into someone.
Regulus walked straight into a solid chest and bounced back with a startled gasp, arms flailing as his balance finally gave out.
Strong hands caught him.
“Careful,” a warm voice said. “I’ve got you.”
Regulus sucked in a shaky breath, blinking rapidly as he tried to focus. The world tilted, blurred, then slowly, righted itself as the hands around him grounded him.
Remus.
The name formed in his mind before his vision cleared enough to confirm it. Warmth seeps where Remus holds him, and Regulus feels a violent shiver run down his spine. Remus’s eyes are wide with surprise that softened almost immediately when they met Regulus’s unfocused stare.
“Regulus?” Remus asked gently. “What are you doing out here in this weather?”
Regulus opened his mouth to answer, but nothing came out.
The ache in his head surged, his throat tightening all at once, and before he could catch himself, his knees buckled. He pitched forward, forehead bumping against Remus’s chest with a soft, almost pitiful sound.
Remus, as always, cradled Regulus as one would cradle their most precious jewel. One arm slid securely around his waist, the other coming up to cradle the back of his head.
“Hey,” Remus murmured. “It’s alright. I’ve got you.”
That was it. That was the crack.
Regulus let out a small, broken sound and melted into him.
He pressed his face into Remus’s chest, nuzzling there instinctively, seeking warmth and something solid to hold onto. His fingers curled weakly into Remus’s shirt, not gripping, just resting there like he needed the contact to stay upright.
Remus smelled like warmth and felt unbearably safe, and if Regulus were in the right state of mind, he would blush at the whispered, wandless magic Remus cast. Warmth bloomed across his skin, gentle and leaving him dry as if the rain had never touched him at all.
The steady rise and fall of his chest beneath Regulus’s cheek was hypnotic, calming in a way Regulus hadn't realised he was desperate for.
For a long moment, Remus didn’t say anything. He simply held him, adjusting his stance to better support Regulus’s weight, one hand gently toying with his, now dry, curls.
The rain drummed down around them, protecting the two in a muffled bubble.
Regulus’s breathing gradually evened out.
The pain in his head didn’t vanish, but it dulled, retreating enough that he could think past it. His shoulders sagged, tension draining from his frame as he allowed himself, just for a moment, to stop fighting.
Remus shifted slightly, “You’re still freezing,” he said quietly, more to himself really. Concern threading through his voice when he asked, “When was the last time you rested?”
Regulus shook his head faintly, still tucked against Remus’s chest. “Don’t know,” he mumbled. His voice sounded rough, scraped raw. “I’m so tired,” he confessed through a sniffle.
Remus huffed a soft, fond sound. “Yeah, thought so.”
He glanced around, noting the absence of the other Hogwarts students, “how about you let me tuck you into my bed. No one will bother you while I’m there.”
Regulus hesitated.
Part of him wanted to protest, to pull back and insist he was fine, that he could manage on his own. But the thought of stepping away from Remus, from his warmth and comforting embrace, made his chest ache in a whole different way.
Instead, he nodded.
Remus smiled, small and reassuring, and carefully adjusted his hold. He didn’t let go as they moved, just shifted Regulus enough that they could walk together, Regulus leaning heavily into his side as his eye began to droop.
Quietly, they reached the entrance of Gryffindor common room, but Regulus was too worn out to give any notice to the whispered password, to the questioning gazes that fell on him when he entered with Remus. Just the firmness of his voice, the way his warm hands guide him up the winding staircase.
Even his brother's worried expression didn’t affect him. He just allowed Remus to draw the curtain around them, and allowed him to undress him with careful hands. And when prompted, arranged his limbs so that he could dress in the warmest, softest jumper and pyjama pants.
“Thank you.” Regulus quietly said when Remus was finished. “You didn’t have to–”
“I know,” Remus said kindly, “I like taking care of you.”
That’s all it took for the tears to well up in his eyes. Remus cooed at him, tucking them both under his knitted quilt. Regulus curled in on himself slightly, tugging the fabric under his nose and inhaling the pure, undisturbed scent of Remus.
Naturally, Remus settled beside him, tugging until Regulus is curled under his chin, gratefully, Regulus nuzzles his chest and allows those tears to shed.
Regulus listened to Remus’s breathing, found comfort in the rhythmic beat of his heart. “You can sleep,” Remus whispered, pressing a sweet kiss to Regulus’s forehead. “I’ll wake you up later.”
Regulus didn’t answer, not that Remus expected him to. He just shifted so that there was no space separating them.
He drifted into a light sleep, humming at the gentle petting. Grumbling in annoyance when Sirius finally whips the curtain aside, concern tainting his voice as he demands to know what happened. A small smile when Remus curls around him protectively, scolding – yet also reassuring Sirius.
He then drifts father into the back of his mind, knowing that within Remus’s arms that he is safe and warm and loved.