He knows that what he's seeing now is the the pureblood Slytherin as Regulus had described – the heir who was raised to exude an impeccable image and cater to the expectations of his station. It's there in the artful choice of what he shows and what he tries to conceal, in the very air that manifests around him and in the attitude that he affects with such precision.
Remus can see the spots where Regulus has frayed around the edges, however; he can see where the actual emotion is bleeding through, belying his calm and commanding exterior. He can see where the pureblood prince ends and where Regulus Black begins, and it's devastating to witness how resolutely Regulus is trying to keep the cracks from showing.
He's trying to be strong for the both of them.
And it makes Remus feel even worse.
He doesn't know what he can do (nothing, there's nothing he can do), but as Regulus approaches, he does make an attempt to sit up a little straighter. His breath catches in his throat when it looks like Regulus is about to touch him, his eyes betraying the tiny flicker of hope that the gesture lights within him before its so quickly snuffed out again by Regulus' retreat. He'd known it would be impossible for them to go back to the way they were, but to have that fact so blatantly paraded in front of him still hurts like nothing he's ever experienced.
"What can I do?" he asks, and there are so many levels of desperation packed into that question that it's almost laughable. Of course there's nothing he can do, not really. No way to salvage the trust that he's broken or the relationship that he's thrown to the dogs. Still, if Regulus is here – if he's come to him and is asking for help – then Remus can't refuse him. It's more than he would have expected, after all. More than he could have ever asked for.
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He knows that what he's seeing now is the the pureblood Slytherin as Regulus had described – the heir who was raised to exude an impeccable image and cater to the expectations of his station. It's there in the artful choice of what he shows and what he tries to conceal, in the very air that manifests around him and in the attitude that he affects with such precision.
Remus can see the spots where Regulus has frayed around the edges, however; he can see where the actual emotion is bleeding through, belying his calm and commanding exterior. He can see where the pureblood prince ends and where Regulus Black begins, and it's devastating to witness how resolutely Regulus is trying to keep the cracks from showing.
He's trying to be strong for the both of them.
And it makes Remus feel even worse.
He doesn't know what he can do (nothing, there's nothing he can do), but as Regulus approaches, he does make an attempt to sit up a little straighter. His breath catches in his throat when it looks like Regulus is about to touch him, his eyes betraying the tiny flicker of hope that the gesture lights within him before its so quickly snuffed out again by Regulus' retreat. He'd known it would be impossible for them to go back to the way they were, but to have that fact so blatantly paraded in front of him still hurts like nothing he's ever experienced.
"What can I do?" he asks, and there are so many levels of desperation packed into that question that it's almost laughable. Of course there's nothing he can do, not really. No way to salvage the trust that he's broken or the relationship that he's thrown to the dogs. Still, if Regulus is here – if he's come to him and is asking for help – then Remus can't refuse him. It's more than he would have expected, after all. More than he could have ever asked for.