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themightyflynnTitle: Safe ch. 15
Author:themightyflynn
Rating: PG-13
Characters: Regulus Black, Harry Potter
Summary: Regulus has only ever known the cold and the wet. Or has he? When warmth comes back into his life, it triggers his memories.
Word Count: 1197
Warnings: Nope
Notes: One day, I will be organised enough to actually be on time with this for a few weeks in a row! Read on Ao3
“Regulus?”
My skin tingles and my stomach flips with nerves at Harry’s soft knock on my door. I have been both dreading and anticipating this meeting. Clenching my hands by my sides, I take a deep breath and release it slowly.
“It’s open.”
Harry offers me what appears to be a slightly nervous smile as he enters the room. He is standing just inside the door, his hands shoved in the pockets of his jeans again. He always seems awkward or nervous about something, although I am certain that I am the one supposed to be nervous about this moment right here.
“So…” Harry rocks onto his toes, then back to his heels.
“Please, take a seat.”
I wave a hand towards one of the chairs I have had the staff bring into the room. They make the space a little cramped, but I figure there is nothing that can be done about it. Hospital rooms were never made to be spacious. I wait for Harry to choose a seat – the one closest to the door – before sitting myself.
“Alistair tells me you’re doing well. Much better than expected, actually?”
This is not the opening conversation I have been expecting. Pressing my lips together, I quickly run through my latest physical therapy session and begin to nod slowly.
“I believe I am, yes.”
The truth is that, while the sessions are going well, they are difficult. My body is put under constant pressures that I am not used to. The thing is, subconsciously, I knew that it would not be an easy thing to go through. I knew that, having been floating, weightless, in freezing cold water for nearly two decades, my body would not want to cooperate with some of the demands I make of it. My muscles have not atrophied, but they also have not been used properly in all that time. Alistair has informed me on more than one occasion that this is normal, despite how wrong it feels.
“That’s a good sign.”
I glance over to Harry. I can see no mocking in his face, nor hear it in his tone.
“That is what Alistair keeps saying as well.”
Harry’s quick responding grin is unexpected. “You don’t agree with him?”
“I…”
A sigh escapes me before I can prevent it. I have not spoken to anyone other than Alistair and Healer Bell about what these therapy sessions feel like physically. They are such a drain on me, not only on a physical level, but on a mental one as well. Another quick glance over to Harry pulls forth the desire to just spill everything out to him. My naturally cautious instincts prevent me from just blurting it all straightaway, however. My hands clench on the arms of the chair.
“May I be completely truthful with you?”
I can see the surprise on Harry’s face. He does not even bother to try to cover it up.
“Of course.”
Nervous tension runs along my shoulders and I roll them automatically. Being able to speak to someone about these sessions would be nice. Actually, being able to speak to someone about these sessions who isn’t involved in them in any way at all is, in fact, highly appealing. Alistair and Healer Bell only tell me that this is a normal reaction. Healer Bell even went so far as to suggest that my pain levels do not seem to be higher than anyone else’s. It was, truthfully, rather insulting. Harry, however, is not in the medical field. There is a possibility that he will just sit there and listen to me. Clearing my throat, I shift slightly in my chair.
“The truth is… Well, everything hurts. Everything. Walking, stretching; even moving the joints in the way they are supposed to be able to move in someone of my relative age bracket.” I pause to pinch the bridge of my nose as the memory of trying to fall asleep with aching muscles plays through my mind. “It is irritating and distracting. I cannot focus on anything else other than the pain, sometimes.”
A low hum from Harry drags my attention back to him. Leaning forward in the chair, he has placed his forearms on his knees and is nodding slowly.
“I didn’t have to do physical therapy after the end of the war. They did put me through psychological therapy sessions, however. They had to check to see whether I had taken any mental damage from everything that I went through.”
“I would assume that having a stark raving madman chasing you since birth would do some kind of damage, yes?”
Harry grins again. “Yeah, it did. And not just to me, either. There are two or three whole generations of people who have some kind of mental issue due to these wars. Everything from PTSD, to depression, to paranoia, to complete mental breakdowns. I don’t think there was anyone involved who didn’t come out of it completely ‘normal’.” I can hear the quotation marks in his tone. “You know they’ll probably want to examine you at some point as well, right?”
My gaze drops down into my lap again. “I suspected they would want to, yes. I just hope that they can manage to hold off until the physical sessions are over.”
“I believe that that could be arranged, Mr. Black.” I jump at the sound of Alistair’s voice coming from the doorway. He is standing just inside the door, smiling at the two of us. “My apologies, I didn’t mean to eavesdrop. I just wanted to inform you that I’ll be about ten minutes late.”
With that, he bows his head and exits the room again. A quick look at the clock on the far wall tells me that I have been sitting talking with Harry for the past half hour, despite it feeling like he has only just arrived. I shake my head slowly.
“Well,” Harry begins before cutting himself off with a groan as he stretches. “You seem a lot more relaxed than when I first arrived.”
Blinking, I look down at myself. Where my hands had been clenched on the arms of the chair, they are now resting lightly; where my shoulders had been tensed with nerves, they are now relaxed. I return my gaze to Harry, a slight frown on my face. He is standing beside his chair, his hands in his pockets again.
“I…”
I have to stop, as I do not know how to respond to this. In fact, I do not even know what Harry is implying.
“Talking about it all can help, believe me.” Harry grins again when my frown deepens. “That’s what friends are good for.”
He holds out his hand for me to shake. I stare unblinkingly at it for longer than I really should. Eventually, I nod slowly.
“It is, yes.”
I reach out to shake Harry’s hand, then rise to show him to the door. It seems that the decision of whether to make friends with Harry or not has been taken from me. It is a fascinating turn of events, one that I know I will be examining later on, after Alistair leaves.
Author:
themightyflynnRating: PG-13
Characters: Regulus Black, Harry Potter
Summary: Regulus has only ever known the cold and the wet. Or has he? When warmth comes back into his life, it triggers his memories.
Word Count: 1197
Warnings: Nope
Notes: One day, I will be organised enough to actually be on time with this for a few weeks in a row! Read on Ao3
“Regulus?”
My skin tingles and my stomach flips with nerves at Harry’s soft knock on my door. I have been both dreading and anticipating this meeting. Clenching my hands by my sides, I take a deep breath and release it slowly.
“It’s open.”
Harry offers me what appears to be a slightly nervous smile as he enters the room. He is standing just inside the door, his hands shoved in the pockets of his jeans again. He always seems awkward or nervous about something, although I am certain that I am the one supposed to be nervous about this moment right here.
“So…” Harry rocks onto his toes, then back to his heels.
“Please, take a seat.”
I wave a hand towards one of the chairs I have had the staff bring into the room. They make the space a little cramped, but I figure there is nothing that can be done about it. Hospital rooms were never made to be spacious. I wait for Harry to choose a seat – the one closest to the door – before sitting myself.
“Alistair tells me you’re doing well. Much better than expected, actually?”
This is not the opening conversation I have been expecting. Pressing my lips together, I quickly run through my latest physical therapy session and begin to nod slowly.
“I believe I am, yes.”
The truth is that, while the sessions are going well, they are difficult. My body is put under constant pressures that I am not used to. The thing is, subconsciously, I knew that it would not be an easy thing to go through. I knew that, having been floating, weightless, in freezing cold water for nearly two decades, my body would not want to cooperate with some of the demands I make of it. My muscles have not atrophied, but they also have not been used properly in all that time. Alistair has informed me on more than one occasion that this is normal, despite how wrong it feels.
“That’s a good sign.”
I glance over to Harry. I can see no mocking in his face, nor hear it in his tone.
“That is what Alistair keeps saying as well.”
Harry’s quick responding grin is unexpected. “You don’t agree with him?”
“I…”
A sigh escapes me before I can prevent it. I have not spoken to anyone other than Alistair and Healer Bell about what these therapy sessions feel like physically. They are such a drain on me, not only on a physical level, but on a mental one as well. Another quick glance over to Harry pulls forth the desire to just spill everything out to him. My naturally cautious instincts prevent me from just blurting it all straightaway, however. My hands clench on the arms of the chair.
“May I be completely truthful with you?”
I can see the surprise on Harry’s face. He does not even bother to try to cover it up.
“Of course.”
Nervous tension runs along my shoulders and I roll them automatically. Being able to speak to someone about these sessions would be nice. Actually, being able to speak to someone about these sessions who isn’t involved in them in any way at all is, in fact, highly appealing. Alistair and Healer Bell only tell me that this is a normal reaction. Healer Bell even went so far as to suggest that my pain levels do not seem to be higher than anyone else’s. It was, truthfully, rather insulting. Harry, however, is not in the medical field. There is a possibility that he will just sit there and listen to me. Clearing my throat, I shift slightly in my chair.
“The truth is… Well, everything hurts. Everything. Walking, stretching; even moving the joints in the way they are supposed to be able to move in someone of my relative age bracket.” I pause to pinch the bridge of my nose as the memory of trying to fall asleep with aching muscles plays through my mind. “It is irritating and distracting. I cannot focus on anything else other than the pain, sometimes.”
A low hum from Harry drags my attention back to him. Leaning forward in the chair, he has placed his forearms on his knees and is nodding slowly.
“I didn’t have to do physical therapy after the end of the war. They did put me through psychological therapy sessions, however. They had to check to see whether I had taken any mental damage from everything that I went through.”
“I would assume that having a stark raving madman chasing you since birth would do some kind of damage, yes?”
Harry grins again. “Yeah, it did. And not just to me, either. There are two or three whole generations of people who have some kind of mental issue due to these wars. Everything from PTSD, to depression, to paranoia, to complete mental breakdowns. I don’t think there was anyone involved who didn’t come out of it completely ‘normal’.” I can hear the quotation marks in his tone. “You know they’ll probably want to examine you at some point as well, right?”
My gaze drops down into my lap again. “I suspected they would want to, yes. I just hope that they can manage to hold off until the physical sessions are over.”
“I believe that that could be arranged, Mr. Black.” I jump at the sound of Alistair’s voice coming from the doorway. He is standing just inside the door, smiling at the two of us. “My apologies, I didn’t mean to eavesdrop. I just wanted to inform you that I’ll be about ten minutes late.”
With that, he bows his head and exits the room again. A quick look at the clock on the far wall tells me that I have been sitting talking with Harry for the past half hour, despite it feeling like he has only just arrived. I shake my head slowly.
“Well,” Harry begins before cutting himself off with a groan as he stretches. “You seem a lot more relaxed than when I first arrived.”
Blinking, I look down at myself. Where my hands had been clenched on the arms of the chair, they are now resting lightly; where my shoulders had been tensed with nerves, they are now relaxed. I return my gaze to Harry, a slight frown on my face. He is standing beside his chair, his hands in his pockets again.
“I…”
I have to stop, as I do not know how to respond to this. In fact, I do not even know what Harry is implying.
“Talking about it all can help, believe me.” Harry grins again when my frown deepens. “That’s what friends are good for.”
He holds out his hand for me to shake. I stare unblinkingly at it for longer than I really should. Eventually, I nod slowly.
“It is, yes.”
I reach out to shake Harry’s hand, then rise to show him to the door. It seems that the decision of whether to make friends with Harry or not has been taken from me. It is a fascinating turn of events, one that I know I will be examining later on, after Alistair leaves.
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