ENCHANTED ⇒ jegulus

NINETEEN

James can't sleep.

He tosses and turns. He even prays to his parents, to offer him some kind of strength, to provide him with some form of parental nourishment that he has been starved from for far too long. It is agonizing.

James rises from his bed. He hasn't done this in a while. Not since a few months after the miscarriage. Slowly, he begins his descend towards the kitchen. He needs a drink, a strong one at that. He used to need it to sleep, he used to depend on alcohol. He would never said he was an alcoholic, but he didn't shy away from indulging enough to allow to settle his tired, tired body to sleep.

Slowly, James opens his door, hoping the loud creak doesn't echo along the hallway. He closes the door behind himself, walking gradually towards the landing.

James makes the mistake of glancing towards Regulus' door. A low, glowing light gleams from beneath the door, James can see it. It is dim and barely there, but it is there, nonetheless. Regulus is awake.

It is dangerously nearing four in the morning and Regulus is awake while James is plotting an after hours drink of the half empty muggle whiskey Lily's parents gifted them last Christmas. James curses at this. He doesn't want Regulus, of all people, to think he has some form of issues surrounding alcohol.

James considers the fabrication Regulus could add to this, to catch him having a late night drink to put him to sleep. He's never even told Remus, or Sirius, or Peter, about his past sleeping aid. He never directly revealed it to Lily either, but James knows that she was aware of it. He could always see the sadness, the slight judgment, in her eyes.

Sighing begrudgingly, James raps his knuckles on the hard, oak door. "Regulus?" He utters, almost sharply.

Regulus makes a noise from inside the room. He sounds startled, if not annoyed. "What do you possibly want? It's after four, Potter," His voice is tired and bored.

James heistates. "Can...can I come in?"

"Well, I suppose you're going to do it regardless, aren't you?" Regulus pipes. Though, he sounds somewhat less irritated now.

James waits for Regulus to come open the door. But he doesn't. James knocks once more. The response he receives arrives in a less than impressed mutter. "It's your house, your room, you don't have to ask me to let you in,"

With this, James opens the door slowly. Regulus is propped up by pillows, his face weary and his eyes practically 'falling out of his head'; a phrase James' mother used to use to describe his own tiredness.

The bedside table lamp is on. Regulus holds a pencil in between his long, boney fingers, a scowl upon his face, his tattered sketchbook in his grip. He leans back to scoff at James. "What do you want from me now?" He bites the top of his pencil, almost in a cautious manner. "You only ever bring me trouble," He mutters, more so to himself than James.

James wonders if this is what Regulus thinks he is here for, at this ungodly hour, in the dead of night. They bring each other trouble, James reckons, but he will never say it out loud.

James parts his lips. "Hi," He mumbles.

"Hi. Now, go to sleep," Regulus comments with a sigh. "You look tired," He goes back to his sketching, the only sound filling the room is the sound of pencil etching off of parchment.

"Why aren't you asleep?" James wonders. "The...the baby needs you to be resting,"

Regulus pauses to glance at James. He raises an eyebrow. "The funny thing about babys, Potter, is that they never sleep," He reports. "Ergo, the people who are trapped with them never get much either," He scoffs. "I need to be resting, tell your daughter that," He adds. Regulus pauses. "Oh, sorry, am I being a hormonal twit?" He blinks, sarcastically.