For Camp Potter – First aid with the prompts tremble, in the shadows and fragile.
For out of your comfort zone comp – Regulus with the prompt in the end.
For the Favorite house boot camp – fragile.
Warnings: Incest
Word count: 460
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You push open the door to your brother's room as quietly as you can. You see him there, curled up under a deep emerald blanket, but you can tell by the unsteady rise and fall of his chest that he isn't asleep. He was waiting for you.
You slide into the bed next to him, praying to Merlin that he doesn't notice the tremble in your bones. You had stood in front of his door for a while, trying to calm yourself; but in the end, you couldn't get rid of the tremble of your muscles, the pain embedded there by that curse. Usually, on nights like these, you sleep in your own room, because you don't want your brother to find out what really happens when you get in trouble.
But, tonight, you need comfort that only he can provide. So you risk everything, risk crumbling the reality that you have carefully built for him, because you need a reason not to completely break apart and he is that reason.
He wraps his arm around your waist and rests his head on your shoulder, causing you to flinch, which doesn't go unnoticed. "Siri," he whispers, concerned. You can hear the questions that he doesn't speak, the questions that he doesn't want to ask in his tone.
You shake your head. "Don't," you command before the questions can come tumbling out of his mouth. Because if he asks them, you'll have to answer and it will break this fragile reality into pieces. "Just…don't." He attempts to protest, but you cut him off with a hard kiss. "Drop it, Reg," you beg softly. "Go to sleep. We have a long day ahead of us tomorrow."
He forces you to meet a familiar pair of silver eyes. He's searching for something; what that is, you don't know. After a few moments, he lies his head back down on your chest. You feel him murmur, "I love you," against it. They're words that you know you're not supposed to hear, so you say nothing back.
You wait until his breathing evens out and his grip on your waist slackens before you whisper, "I'm sorry." Sorry you can't tell him that you love him, that he's your reason for holding on for so long. Sorry that he isn't enough to keep you together. Sorry that you might crash and burn, despite his desperate attempts to save you, and that you might just take everything he's ever known with you.
Because the cracks that you've sustained in the shadows of the night grow in the daylight, and he's not enough to repair you. You're going to break. And there's nothing that can be done about it. You just hope that he makes it out unharmed.