Break the Cycle

Chapter 2

Orion Black's grip on Regulus’s arm was firm, unyielding, as he pulled his son up from the floor. Regulus’s body was limp, every muscle weak from the alcohol and the sickness coursing through him. His head lolled to one side, but Orion tightened his hold, refusing to let him collapse again. The sharp smell of vomit hung in the air, mixing with the pungent scent of alcohol. The sound of Regulus’s ragged breathing echoed through the silent room.

“Come on, son,” Orion muttered under his breath, his voice filled with a quiet urgency as he half-dragged, half-carried Regulus towards the kitchen. Each step felt like a battle, and Regulus’s legs wobbled under him, his feet barely finding purchase on the cold wooden floor. His eyes were glazed over, barely focusing, his mind still swimming in a haze of alcohol and lingering high from the pills.

Orion’s patience wore thin, but beneath the stern façade, there was a deep well of concern that drove him. He had been here before—he knew this darkness all too well. The demons of addiction had almost claimed him once, long ago. Now, he would do everything in his power to keep them from claiming his son.

“Sirius,” Orion barked over his shoulder, his voice clipped. “Get me a bucket for him.”

Sirius, who had been hovering nearby with a mixture of anger and worry still etched on his face, nodded without hesitation and rushed out of the room. The clattering of his footsteps faded as he dashed towards the bathroom to fetch a bucket, the urgency of the situation hitting him hard.

In the kitchen, Orion finally eased Regulus into one of the hard wooden chairs by the table, careful not to let him slump over completely. Regulus’s head fell forward, his dark hair clinging to his sweat-dampened forehead as he let out a low groan. His body was fighting him, but his mind was barely coherent enough to understand what was happening.

“Regulus, stay with me,” Orion commanded, gripping his son’s face with one hand, forcing him to look up. “You’ve taken too much.”

Walburga stormed into the kitchen, her robe billowing behind her, her sharp features twisted in a mixture of disbelief and fury. “Orion, what are you doing?” she snapped, her voice biting. Her eyes darted from Regulus, slumped in the chair, to Orion, whose hand was now fumbling through the cupboard, searching for something.

“Saving our son,” Orion shot back without looking at her. His tone brooked no argument. Walburga’s eyes narrowed, but she stayed silent, crossing her arms as she watched her husband move with purpose. She knew better than to interfere when he used that tone, though the sight of Regulus in such a state made her stomach twist in disgust.

Orion’s hand finally found what he was looking for: a small, unmarked vial tucked behind the other bottles. It was an old remedy, something he had kept locked away for years, hoping he’d never need it again. A potion specifically designed to purge the body of poisons—both alcohol and drugs. It was brutal, but it was effective.

Sirius reappeared in the doorway, holding a bucket in one hand, his expression tight with worry. “Here,” he said, his voice quieter now, handing the bucket to his father.

“Good,” Orion muttered, taking the bucket and placing it next to Regulus. He uncorked the vial with a sharp twist, the sour, acrid smell of the potion filling the air. Regulus’s nose twitched at the scent, and he let out a weak groan, instinctively trying to pull away. He knew what was coming, even through the haze clouding his mind.

Orion crouched down in front of him, gripping the back of his head with one strong hand, forcing his son to look at him. “You’re going to take this,” he said, his voice firm but not unkind. “It’ll get rid of the alcohol and the pills. You’ll feel like hell, but it has to be done.”

Regulus’s eyes widened in panic, and he instinctively jerked away, trying to escape his father’s grip. “No,” he croaked, his voice hoarse and barely audible. His body reacted on instinct, his mind too addled to think clearly. He pushed at Orion’s hands, trying to squirm away, but his movements were weak and uncoordinated.

“I’m not giving you a choice,” Orion growled, tightening his hold. “You’ve poisoned yourself, Regulus. This is the only way.”

“Please... no,” Regulus mumbled, his voice slurred as he tried to twist out of his father’s grasp. His movements were frantic, his limbs flailing in a pathetic attempt to break free. The panic rising in his chest made everything worse—his stomach churned violently, and his throat burned.

Orion didn’t waver. He forced Regulus’s head back, his grip firm but not cruel, and with his other hand, he brought the vial to his son’s lips. “Open your mouth,” he ordered.

Regulus pressed his lips together in a weak act of defiance, shaking his head as much as he could. His entire body trembled, the alcohol and pills wreaking havoc on his system. But Orion wasn’t going to let him win. With a swift movement, he pinched Regulus’s nose, cutting off his air supply until his son had no choice but to gasp for breath. The moment his mouth opened, Orion tipped the potion down his throat.

Regulus gagged, his body instinctively trying to expel the bitter liquid as it slid down his throat. He coughed, sputtering, but Orion didn’t let go. He held Regulus’s head firmly, forcing him to swallow every last drop of the foul-tasting potion. Tears sprang to Regulus’s eyes, his throat burning as the potion went down, its effects immediate and brutal.

“No!” Regulus gasped, choking on his words as he tried to push Orion away. His hands weakly batted at his father’s arms, but it was futile. The potion was already working its way through his system, and he could feel the violent churning in his stomach intensifying.

Sirius stepped forward, his face pale as he watched his brother writhe in the chair. He hated seeing Regulus like this—so broken, so lost in his own pain that he would rather drown it in alcohol and pills than face it. He placed a hand on Regulus’s shoulder, trying to offer some form of comfort, but Regulus barely noticed. His body was too busy fighting the potion, his stomach twisting painfully as the purging process began.

Regulus’s face twisted in agony as the potion forced his body to expel the toxins. His stomach heaved violently, and within seconds, he was retching into the bucket Sirius had brought, his body convulsing with the force of it. The sound was sickening, and for a moment, the only noise in the room was the violent retching as Regulus’s body rid itself of the poison.

Orion stood back, watching grimly as his son suffered through it. This was the price of his actions, the consequence of his choices. It wasn’t easy, but it was necessary. He knew that better than anyone.

Walburga, still standing in the doorway, said nothing. Her expression was unreadable, though her eyes flicked between her husband and her son with a mixture of disdain and cold detachment. She wasn’t one for comforting words, and in this moment, she saw no reason to offer them.

After what felt like an eternity, Regulus finally slumped back in the chair, his body trembling with exhaustion. His face was pale, his skin slick with sweat, and his breath came in shallow, ragged gasps. The bucket was half-full of bile and alcohol, the stench of it filling the room.

Sirius, kneeling beside him, wiped a damp cloth across Regulus’s forehead, his movements gentle. “It’s over,” he murmured, though his voice was tight with emotion. “You’re going to be okay.”

Regulus didn’t respond. His eyes fluttered closed, too weak and too sick to do anything but breathe.

Orion watched his son for a moment longer before turning to Sirius. “Get him to bed,” he said quietly. “He needs to rest.”

Sirius nodded, carefully pulling Regulus to his feet. His younger brother was barely conscious, his body limp as Sirius draped an arm around his waist and guided him out of the kitchen.

Orion watched them go, his heart heavy with a mix of sorrow and determination. Regulus had a long way to go, but he wasn’t going to face it alone. Not this time.