XX. Sick on the Landing

                                    

                                          
CW: emetophobia (mention of being sick towards the end of the chapter)
                          
The end of July came and went, and Milo Bell had still not been successfully murdered.
                          
Regulus Black was awoken in the middle of the night on 3 August to the sound of shuffling 'round his room. When he had gathered his wits about him, he froze. Had someone broken into the home? But, of course not, Number 12 was under a Fidelius Charm; no one who hadn't been invited by any of the Black's would be allowed inside. 
                          
Aside from the Dark Lord. Surely he had been told the address by Orion Black, who was secret keeper...
                          
But why would the Dark Lord be in Regulus's bedroom in the middle of the night? 
                          
As though to answer his question, the curtains were suddenly pulled back. The pale, sharp face of Walburga Black appeared in Regulus's line of sight, and the expression on her face sent a shiver down his spine; it was one of fear. His mother never wore expressions of fear, for she was never afraid. 
                          
"Regulus, get up. The Dark Lord has summoned us," she reached over and pulled the blankets off of Regulus, sending a gust of cold air over his thinly-clothed body. 
                          
He began to shiver uncontrollably and his teeth started to chatter. He wanted desperately to pull the blankets back over himself, for he felt like he may freeze to death if he didn't. Despite it being the middle of August, it still felt like winter inside of the drab and inhospitable walls that was Number 12 Grimmauld Place. 
                          
"Regulus, hurry!" Walburga hissed, and she threw a thick black coat at him. "Put on your traveling cloak and get on your shoes. The Dark Lord is waiting." She waited impatiently while Regulus slipped his arms through the thick, warm wool coat. 
                          
He hopped out of bed, and was thankful that he had placed his shoes on the border of the carpet so that he didn't have to walk with bare feet across the bitterly cold hardwood floors. 
                          
Once he was ready, she gripped his arm tightly and pulled him out onto the landing. "Be quiet," she hissed, leaning down so she was speaking directly into her youngest son's ear, "he must not wake up." Regulus knew she was talking about Sirius, and he glanced incredulously at his bedroom door. 
                          
He thought back to winter break, when he had found those letters from Sirius's friends indicating that he was planning on crashing a meeting with the Dark Lord. Regulus wondered what Sirius might have done, had he been truly put into that situation. Though Regulus didn't need to think about the outcome very hard - he would have been killed for sure. Regulus found himself thinking about just how brave and reckless and dumb his older brother was, and how much Regulus had longed to be just like him when the boys were younger. 
                          
"I wanna be just like you when I get older, Siri!" Regulus had shouted once when his older brother had told a tale (which Regulus now knew was completely made up) about fighting a dragon. 
                          
Sirius simply smiled down at his small, four-year-old little brother and ruffled the jet black curls atop his head lovingly. "You will be, Reggie. One day."
                          
Regulus's heart ached. 
                          
"Regulus!" Walburga sibilated, tugging on his arm harshly. 
                          
He broke his gaze from Sirius Black's bedroom door and followed his mother ruefully down the stairs. While the traveling cloak and shoes certainly helped, Regulus was still shuddering. When they reached the small space before the front door, Orion was waiting patiently. He looked much less frightened than Regulus's mother did, and this gave Regulus a bit of hope that perhaps the meeting - whatever it may be about - wouldn't be that horrible.