Houses of the Holy

The Great War

TW: Another heavy one, past abuse, blood, broken bones, after effects of torture, what do I say it is when someone rips someone's fingernails out of the nail bed??? That's something that happens, panic attacks, negative self-talk, dealing with grief and trauma, Walburga Black's A+ Parenting part twoooo. It's not a good chapter in terms of triggers, and as I said in the last one, feel free to ask me for a summary if you don't feel comfortable reading that <3

Well, I've been 'fraid of changin'

'Cause I've built my life around you

But time makes you bolder

Even children get older

And I'm gettin' older, too - Fleetwood Mac, Landslide

James

Regulus is small in his arms, the younger boy's knees are pulled to his own chest, face pressed against James's. That probably makes him seem smaller, but really, for 15-year-olds, he's rather small. Sirius would make some joke about the inbreeding for that one. James doesn't think now is a good time for jokes. Sirius would want them, but Regulus is different. More fragile right now, like he's going to shatter into a million shards if you so much as breathe.

So James just holds him, rubs his back, and murmurs softly against his hair, which is pressed against James's neck, Regulus's head tucked under his chin.

"I've got you."

"You're safe."

"Can you feel my breathing? Yeah?" He takes Regulus's hand, pressing it against his chest. "Try and copy it yeah? That's it, you're going to be alright. You're safe."

His mind is doing some weird thing that it does, detaching from the situation, replacing it with a memory. Right now, all he sees is Sirius, that night that Regulus was supposed to get free.

***

'Prongs. Prongs he's not coming.' Sirius gasps, turning the doorknob of James's room, and letting himself in.

James is in bed, reading a book, which he quickly puts down, and lifts the covers, motioning for Sirius to join him. A candle on his bedside table illuminates the room with a soft glow.

Sirius does, curling against James's side.

'I thought- I thought maybe he might come. Maybe I'd have him back, but he-' Sirius's voice breaks, dissolving in a small sob.

James wraps his arms around the other, holding him close, a solid, warm presence against Sirius's trembling form. James doesn't really know what to do, so he just holds Sirius, murmuring soft words against his hair, just like his mother does -did, he's not a goddamn child who cries to his mother anymore- for him.

'I've got you.'

'You're safe.'

'Can you feel my breathing? Yeah?' He holds Sirius more firmly against his chest, feeling the other nod. 'Try and copy it yeah? That's it, you're going to be alright. You're safe.'

'You're not there anymore, you're not in that house. It's going to be okay.'

The rain comes out of nowhere. At first, it's slow, soft tapping against the roof and windows. Then it's heavier, and heavier, until it's thundering against the glass, droplets of water making their way through the cracks in James's roof. He tries to shield Sirius from the worst of it. The candle dances in the wind that makes its way into the room.