The Black Brothers

#8

"Regulus, we need you to come out now," Walburga said through his bedroom door.

He cursed quietly as he looked at the state of his room. Regulus had a mental breakdown five minutes prior, leading to the destruction of the area and drugs being taken out. Cocaine, a muggle drug one of the seventh year Slytherins introduced to the school, was laid in rows on his desk with a razor in his hand.

"Give me a second, mother. I'm naked."

"You have five minutes to come downstairs or there will be consequences and I will not be as generous as I have been."

He listened to his mother's steps fade away and leaned his head in his hands, letting out a small sob as a tear or two fused itself with the only thing he used as a life line.

If he didn't have drugs or alcohol or cigarettes he wouldn't be able to last in the cruel world many people could home anymore. It was all too much and quite frankly, he didn't want to live anymore. He was too lazy for suicide but wouldn't care if he died or not and that is exactly why he was okay with going on this mission.

Regulus composed himself and looked at his reflection in his cracked dresser mirror before doing a line. He carefully placed the rest in the bag and hid it in his drawer. Just as he was about to close the drawer the razor caught his eye.

"No one would know.. Or care..."

His impulsive thoughts won as there were close to no thoughts protesting them. The razor was quickly stabbed into his wrist and dragged roughly. He grunted loudly and pulled it away but it was too late. He was bleeding and it was entirely his own fault. It hurt, itched even. So that was what confused Regulus. It felt so good and relieving even though he put him in pain.

"Just one more time.."

The actions were repeated more than once and when he was finally finished destroying his wrist the smile he didn't realise he had slowly slid off his face. Blood was dripping onto the floor, he was late, he had nothing to cover the blood with and his entire life was a complete mess. He threw the razor in the drawer and kicked the desk in frustration.

"Fuck you! Get it right!" he screamed at his reflection before punching the already cracked glass.

It shattered and glass started falling out. He decided he didn't like the way he looked and refused to look at such a foul thing anymore so he continued to pound into the object until there was close to no glass left and parts were dug in his palms. Regulus clenched his jaw, gritting his teeth and left his room. The door slammed shut behind him and he knew that was a sign of no turning back.

————

Sirius stroked Remus' head as he laid in his lap, sleeping contently.

"I think the map is genius, Messer Padfoot."

"As do I, Messer Prongs."

They finally agreed on the nicknames to give themselves and now the group will infamously be known as the marauders whether everyone liked it or not. The full moon finally passed and Remus was still exaughsted days later, it was a bad one. But no one had the heart to tell him that James had gotten hurt. They hadn't gotten the hang of moving around as animals quite yet and he was struck across his chest. Sirius was left to help Remus entirely on his own after that as Peter's animigus form was a rat, unhelpful. The marks were definitely going to scar but it wasn't like Remus would ever see them so they decided to not bring it up.

"How do you think Reg is doing?" Sirius asked out of nowhere.

"He does seem a lot more confident than at the start of the year so I'm sure that whatever is happening, he can deal with it. If you could, he can."