unspeakable | jegulus

the coldest winter in seventeen years

chapter title: talkin' new york by bob dylan
  

cw: discussion of self-harm/suicide, sexual content

Regulus didn't knock on his door that night, or say anything  when he sat next to him at the breakfast table the next morning. Not a  single member of the Black family acknowledged James' misbehaviour the  night before. They all seemed willing to accept that he was reeling from  what the Dark Lord made him do, and forgave him for his transgressions.  At least, they         seemed       to forgive him. Regulus didn't look at him much at breakfast,  or at tea, and when they had time to do as they pleased he vanished into  the parlour to practice playing piano, something mournful and pensive  floated down every hallway in the house, as inescapable as air. It was  not exactly festive. The tree was decorated by Kreacher in shades of  silver and black. The hearth was barren and fireless. James missed the  warm Christmas Eves with his parents, the tree decorated by their hands  with homemade ornaments from his childhood, the smell of pine needles,  hands sticky from his father's gingerbread cookies around the fire,  watching muggle Christmas movies, stop-motion, hand drawn, on the  television set with steaming mugs of hot chocolate. His memories of home  seemed like they'd been dipped in gold. He made do with what he had.

   "Do you have any Christmas traditions you're particularly fond  of?" he asked as brightly as he could. Walburga looked up from her  embroidery, a swan on a frozen lake, and smiled a little.

   "I have never given it a thought. I am terribly fond of our  annual party. This is nice in another way, Regulus playing his piano,  everyone drifting but home... together. I miss having a full nest." Her  inky eyelashes hid her pale eyes from him. She was a small woman, yet  now she seemed even smaller. "I miss him today most of all. My brightest  star. It is nice to have you here, James. You know him so very well.  Sit with me, little one." She patted the seat beside her. James obeyed.  Her skirts fanned out around her like she was a woman from another era,  one stricter than this one, one demanding perfection and rigidity. "You  must be having a difficult time after all of that unpleasantness with  the Dark Lord yesterday."

   "I'm alright," he said softly. She set aside her embroidery  neatly. She fixed her pale eyes on his and raised an eyebrow. She looked  so much like Regulus it was a little chilling.

   "I have known you so little, yet even I can see that is not  true. Come, you can speak with me. You are to be like a son to me, no?"  Walburga reached and took one of his hands in two of hers. He felt an  unwelcome swell of emotion at the small, maternal gesture. She was so  gentle it was as if she wasn't even touching him at all. "You can talk  to me about anything. You are dear to my sons. This makes you dear to  me. I know I will love you."

   "I don't like hurting people." His skin was crawling, yet he  didn't move away from her. Her icy hands ran over his in soothing little  circles. Had she done this with Sirius, with Regulus? "You don't need  to trouble yourself. I'm alright, really."

   "I can see that you are not, little dove." Walburga wordlessly  pulled him against her in a loose, shivery sort of hug. She was cold,  and her hug was rigid, but her hand in his hair was strangely  comforting. This was Regulus' mother. This is what it felt like for  Regulus' mother to hug him. He felt strange in her embrace. Was this  some kind of trap? "Your light is dimmed today. Did you quarrel with my  Regulus?"

   "We aren't fighting." James pulled away from her loose embrace. Walburga touched his cheek.

   "If you are, you do not need to hide it. Couples fight. This  house is no stranger to conflict, it is in Regulus' blood to fight with  those he loves. He is made of the same things I am made of, his father  is made of. We are passionate. He is full of passion too. He is alive,  as much as he tries to hide it behind that cold veneer of his." Her  attention was like cool water. "I am always here for you, James. You  have more than one friend in this house. I know it is hard for you to  believe me, because you loved my Sirius first, but Sirius isn't like  you. He isn't strong enough to be here with us. He chose the path of  weakness." James had to use every bit of occlumency training and years  of therapy to keep himself from instantly going stiff as a statue under  her hands. "One day you will know me well enough to trust me. I wish to  know you. I think you are worth knowing. We will see if you are strong  enough to belong to this family. Our love is different from the love you  knew in childhood, but it is love all the same."