A fortnight. Two weeks. For two weeks, Severus had been asleep. For two weeks, Regulus came every day to check, only to listen to Pomfrey lecture him, about how three drops would have done enough damage and how a whole cauldronful might eventually prove lethal – he may not wake up the same – he may not wake up at all – How was I supposed to guess he will drink the whole thing? I should have let it be… why couldn't I just believe him?
Every night, Pomfrey let out a loud sigh and said he ought to sleep in his own bed, but since he did not appear to be bothering her patient ("I don't see how anything could be bothering him at the state he's in, mind"), she had no reason to kick him out. Every night, he tried to recreate that first night they spent there, and every night he failed, because he was holding a body that slept like a sack of potatoes, whose rising and falling chest was the only sign that it was alive. It did not tremble or shake or shiver, it did not gasp or bite its lips or look down and sideways in that adorably awkward way, and it did not kiss him back. Worst of all, his last actual sentence had been "You're hurting me, Reg."
"I love you, please wake up, I'm sorry!" Reg whispered in futile self-blame, every night. These had to be the longest two weeks of his life – he caught the Snitch exactly zero times in their practices and nearly fell off the broomstick twice. He was distracted in class. He was distracted all the time.
Regulus's only comfort was that even if Severus never woke up, he could always pry it out of his brother's banal brain. All it would take would be a good look into his vacant eyes… if he ever got good enough at legilimency, that is.
That was what he thought of as he stared into the darkness, wide awake and wishing he was dead next to Severus who had been sleeping like he was. The darkness engulfed him, seeped through his pores and into his blood. It was thick, viscous. His hand was squeezing Severus's flat palm and his heart felt like it might take permanent residence in the pit of his stomach. Then, he felt the flat palm move, squeeze his own hand very softly. His heart started pounding.
"Reg? Is that you?"
"Yes."
"Why am I here? How long?"
"Veritaserum. I gave it to you. Two weeks."
A stunned silence followed.
"I took it?"
"Can you forgive me?"
After some quiet deliberation, Severus said: "I heard everything. I think it was everything. I… I love you, Reg."
"I know. I love you too."
"I know."
Regulus lay on his side to face Severus, who looked at him with serenity he had never seen on his face before. That first night was nothing, nothing, compared to this – he is okay, he is better than okay – Reg kissed every scar and held him with wild fervor and he knew that even if it had to end tomorrow for some unfathomably stupid reason, they had tonight. And Severus felt for the first time that maybe he was beautiful, maybe he could just believe it and nothing bad will happen. Two weeks of safety, solitude and silence, blissful sleep, and no Tobias, no James, no Sirius, no werewolves, no Dumbledore to threaten and humiliate him, only Regulus whispering "I love you", all while his mind recovered from the compounding effect of Dumbledore's silencing charm and his own veritaserum, combined to create an experience he had never felt before – he relaxed in the strong arms that held him, melted into them. He had no energy for anything else, after a two-week slumber. Reg was determined to squeeze two weeks' worth of love out of one night, and every time he came up for air, he said "I missed you", and Severus answered back: "I've been right here".
