The Art of Dying - R. Black

thirty three

TW: Mentions of abuse (not in detail)

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"Shit," I muttered, bringing Regulus inside my house.

I grabbed his hand and led him upstairs, neither of us speaking. I had no idea what happened, and my heart was pounding in my chest as I brought him into the bathroom.

"Sit down," I instructed, helping him sit on the closed toilet seat.

"Meredith-"

I shook my head, "Not now."

I cast a silencing spell over the bathroom before grabbing the first aid kit from underneath the sink. It was filled with various potions and salves, but I didn't know the extent of his injuries.

"What the hell happened?" I asked, not looking at Regulus. I got a washcloth and wet it with warm water.

Regulus leaned his head back against the wall, his eyes fluttering shut.

"My mother happened," He muttered.

I stood between his legs and tilted his chin towards me to get a better look at him.

In the bright light of the bathroom, I could see the full extent of his injuries. His nose had stopped bleeding, and there was dried blood down his chin. He had a cut on his forehead, a dark bruise blooming.

I ran the washcloth over his face, cleaning over the dried blood and what looked like dirt.

Regulus winced in pain as I ran the washcloth over the cut on his forehead.

"I know," I whispered, "I'm sorry."

His eyes fluttered shut again as I ran my finger over the fresh bruise on his forehead.

"My mother," Regulus winced, "Was in a bad mood tonight."

I stared at him, taking in his state of vulnerability. "How come?" I asked, not sure if I wanted to know the answer.

"She wants me to get engaged."

I went silent, waiting for him to continue.

"I said no. She didn't like that," Regulus explained. "She gave me a whole list of girls that were "pure", and I said no."

Regulus's eyes opened, and he stared at me.

I turned away, setting the washcloth on the counter. I rummaged through the first aid kit, looking for something to clean his cuts with.

"Why'd she want you to get engaged now?"

Regulus watched me as I opened the rubbing alcohol and poured it onto cotton pads.

"As a power move," Regulus answered. "My dad's sick, the Healers said he won't make it to the end of the year."

I stopped, dropping my hands to my side.

"I-, I didn't know that."

"Most people don't. She wants to keep it a secret-, said it would slander the family name."

I stood between his legs, resting my hand on the side of his face. I cleaned the cut on his forehead. Regulus winced in pain, gripping my waist to steady himself.

I frowned at him, starting to worry if this was the extent of his injuries or if there was more.

Regulus smirked at me.

"What?" I questioned, continuing to clean out the wound above his eyebrow.

"You're cute when you're worried," Regulus said, looking up at me.