The Story of Regulus Black - Years 5-7

LXXXV. End Up Like Them

Chapter Notes: all italicized dialogue is being spoken in french
CW: mentions of self harm & sexual harassment

When Barty and Regulus woke the next day, Barty was still sick. He was utterly miserable, groaning and trying to unplug his ears and sniffing as he failed to breathe through his nostrils. Regulus didn't like seeing Barty in such a state, so sick and sad and so desperate for anything that would help. So, he took matters into his own hands and gave Barty a quick kiss on the cheek before he stood up and left the dorm room.

It took him nearly fifteen minutes to find the infirmary, but when he finally did he didn't think that he had ever been more grateful. He stepped inside and breathed in that familiar scent of saline (it was different here, but it was familiar enough to bring a sense of comfort) as he looked around for the nurse that he knew could help.

She was sitting at her desk toward the end of the ward, scribbling away at a stack of paperwork as she muttered to herself in hushed French words. Regulus crossed the ward and cleared his throat when it became clear that she didn't even know that he was there at all. The sound was what made her look up, surprise coming to her face that was quickly followed by an expression of worry as she stood up from her desk.

"Mr. Black! Good morning! How's your hand feeling?"

"Morning. My hand feels fine." He shoved his hands into his pockets to hide the light tremor that it seemed to have taken on.

"Oh, how excellent! What can I do for you, then?"

"My friend's sick, I was wondering if you could give me something to make him better. Like a potion."

She nodded her head, already walking toward a cabinet just a few feet behind Regulus and to the right. "Yes, of course I can." She began shuffling through the glass bottles that lined the shelves as Regulus stood awkwardly in the middle of the room, scuffing the tip of his shoe against the floor as he fiddled with his fingers behind his back and looked around. There was no one else in the room, all of the beds pristinely lined with crisp sheets and fluffy pillows. The linoleum floors were so clean that it was almost as though they glittered in the windows that lined the walls. Each bed has very particular amount of tools beside it, ready for whoever came in and needed any sort of medical attention at all. It was similar yet different to the one back at Hogwarts, and Regulus felt an odd sense of familiarity and the comfort that came with it.

"Ah! Here you are!" She pulled out a small bottle which was filled with a thick potion that glowed the same shade of red that Regulus had seen time and time again. He watched as she walked back toward her desk, walking so fluidly that it was almost as though she were gliding on the air itself. She opened up one of the drawers that lined the sides of her desk and levitated out a small vial, using several silent spells to transfer a bit of the potion into the vial and place a small cork in the end to block the contents from spilling out unintentionally. She then lowered the potion back to her desk and approached Regulus with the tiny bottle resting in her palm. "Here you go, Mr. Black."

She dropped it into his outstretched palm and watched as he carefully slipped it into the pocket of his trousers. "Thank you," he said, sincerity in his voice as he meant every bit of the thank you that he was giving her.

She smiled and bowed her head slightly in response. "You're very welcome. Is there anything else I can do? Would you like me to look at your hand anyway?"

It was tempting, he did have to admit. Perhaps something had changed now that more time had passed, maybe there was something different that would mean she could heal his hand completely. However, Barty was still sick in bed, and that thought alone was enough to push Regulus right out of his head and shove him in the direction of the exit. "No, not right now. Thank you though."