Diptych

Chapter 41

He walked for what must have been miles, dragging James along all the way. Though James' state of unconsciousness had not changed, Regulus felt sure that his own must have. There was no mud coating his cheek to indicate so, nor was blood spilling once more from James' head as it might if Regulus had dropped him along the way; and yet there were pockets of time that completely disappeared when he tried to think of them. He would blink and suddenly find himself lost once more, looking frantically around at surroundings unfamiliar.

The place where they had been ambushed was out of sight, and though Regulus felt that ought to bring him some relief, it didn't. After all, he couldn't be sure they were really gone at all, and he didn't have the luxury of sticking to well-covered paths anymore, which meant that if they were indeed following him, they would be able to pounce at any time they liked and he would be defenceless.

James was heavy. In life, Regulus was sure it was true. The boy was older than him, taller and wider in the shoulders. They both played Quidditch a fair amount, but Potter did more running about when they were off the pitch, so he had built up a raiment of muscle that Regulus had not, and now muscles that Regulus had not known existed ached with the effort of carrying him. He tried to ignore it, told himself many times that he hadn't the time to stop, that Potter would surely be lost before they reached help if he laid him down for even a moment. He told himself too that if he laid Potter down, his arms would surely protest picking him up again, and then they would be stuck. Yet minutes after he last told himself so, he found his fingers cramping, knuckles turning in on themselves and knees buckling as his body realised all at once that he was coming to a halt. James folded softly to the ground rather than falling, which was some small consolation.

So, there he sat in the dirt beside James Potter's motionless body.

It had been his first instinct to use his magic to levitate the boy, all those hours ago when he set out. He didn't know how to use his magic to save his life, but he could at least use it to lift him, at least for a little while until he tired. But Regulus knew that aurors tracked witches and wizards through their wands; and if that were true, then he had no reason to think Rodolphus and the other man wouldn't be able to do the same. So in the absence of any life-saving enchantments, he had decided not to use his magic any more than he had to. Not that he had the energy to do much more than a 'lumos' or an 'accio' in that moment, worn out from the alternative.

He didn't know at which point he had begun speaking to the boy. A few words when they'd first began. 'Come on, Potter', he'd said. Still mostly sane at that point. But sitting there beside him, Regulus came to the realisation that his own voice had become a part of the catastrophic melody around him, birdsong and a heavy breeze tearing through fragile branches, his frantic muttering and moments ago one set of weary footsteps matched to one set of laboured lungs. Potter offered nothing to this orchestra, and Regulus had never wanted more than then to hear his voice.

"I'll make a fire," he heard himself say, "it'll keep you warm."

His hands were shaking, and it was no easy feat to tempt a flame to spark in such damp surroundings, but he managed it eventually. Whether minutes or hours had passed as he grunted and sighed and cursed every prophetic figure he'd ever learned the name of, he couldn't be sure. But the relief that came when his hands lit up in the darkness (when had it become dark?) was all-encompassing. The temptation to lunge towards the fire was great, to sheath himself in its warmth and close his eyes just for a moment, to pretend he was somewhere else, somewhere safe. But he didn't have that luxury, either. And since Sirius wasn't around to do it, he pulled James closer to the fire's edge and rested the bag he'd been carrying by his face so that it didn't burn him. He'd get enough warmth from where he was sitting, but James needed it more.