Chapter iii
"Kill me. Right now."
Barty snorted, flicking Regulus's forehead. "Gee, at least take me out to dinner before demanding commitment."
"Barty, make one more noise and I will force you to swallow a knife made of your own teeth and nails, ripping you up from the inside so you die slowly and painfully."
"See, now that's you killing me, not the other way around."
"You'll die ugly. No teeth or nails."
"Woah, okay, so we're going there. Let me get right on that murder then, asshole. What brings it about this time? Saw someone prettier than you? Got a 98 on an exam?"
"Worse. My fucking zombie brother's apparently gotten the only good peer editor I've ever had - full offense, Mr. Winking-Face-Out-of-All-My-Goddamn-Semicolons - to be his friend, and now Remus wants to - and I quote - 'meet for coffee to talk about some stuff' ... end of quote. So yeah, kill me now, Bartemius."
"Well I was going to, but then you insulted my marvelous editing skills. Enjoy your coffee date, you piece of shit."
"Fine, then murder-suicide it is."
"Yeah, alright, you can knock me out and drive the car off a bridge on the way there."
"...thanks."
That is how Regulus ended up being driven by Barty Crouch Jr, his only friend with a car allowed on campus, to meet his favorite editor, who was apparently his undead brother's close friend.
The conversation, shock of shocks, was not easy to start.
"So... you know Sirius, I gather?"
"Better than you, apparently." Remus was frowning, his eyes narrowed in Regulus's direction. "Tell me, why was I under the impression that you were an only child?"
"Oh, please. Like you don't know. I was right there with you under that impression. That's what tends to happen when your only brother fakes his own death and disappears off the face of the planet." Regulus was scowling by this point.
"...faked? His own death? Regulus - if that's even your real name - you're a smart kid. So what the fuck is this lame-ass attempt to cover your shit?"
"The truth. Want proof? I can still recite the fake-ass eulogy I had to give him word-for-word. Like I did at his goddamn funeral."
"Yeah, sure, okay. It'll be interesting to watch you make this shit up on the spot. Speaking as your goddamn editor."
---
Regulus never liked funerals. Mostly, that was because he never particularly liked any of the dead bastards he knew. So he understood why everyone was here, but that didn't stop him from tracking every lie he heard.
"Dearly beloved," - one - "we are gathered here today to mourn the untimely passing of Sirius Black, the dutiful son" - two - "and cherished brother," - three - "the dear friend to so many" - four. Sirius Black had never liked a single person in his miserable bastard life, and Regulus knew that better than anybody.
"Sirius Black was taken from us far too soon. He was a smart and kind boy" - five and six - "whom nobody could ever help but love" - seven. "I did not have the pleasure of knowing him well, but here to offer some remarks is his sister" - eight - "Ursa Black," - nine - "now sole heir of the Black dynasty" - ten. Regulus wouldn't inherit even close to as much as they were currently donating to various Evangelical hell-cults who promised that they would be saved because of their 'charity.'
"Thank you, Father Yaxley" - eleven. Regulus was many things: lost, scared, angry, alone. He was many things, but grateful was not one of them. "I, in Sirius Black, had a great brother, friend, and mentor" - twelve, thirteen, fourteen. "My earliest memory is of him, and it never fails to bring me a smile" - fifteen. "I was very young when Sirius decided that I simply could not go on without knowing of astronomy. Apparently, since we were named after stars, it would be blasphemy not to study them." Because, as Sirius said, they were the only good things their parents ever gave them.
Here Regulus paused with his rehearsed heartbroken smile, giving the crowd a second to give fake-teary fake laughs.
"He was oh-so-proud to be a dog while I was just, quote, 'a smelly old bear,' and it took him quite a while to stop gloating about that one."
More fake smiles, more fake laughs. Also lie number sixteen. Sirius had gloated, but only for a minute. When Walburga found the boys up together after dark, any amusement or familiarity was quickly forgotten.
"After that, though, he told me something I still remember" - seventeen. They hadn't talked for almost a week after that night, after the night of Regulus's first punishment. "He told me that since we were both stars, we would just have to keep shining."
Regulus felt bile rising in his throat. How could anyone believe this? Anyone who knew Sirius at all would know that he'd never say something like that. There, of course, was his answer - nobody at that stupid funeral knew one single goddamned thing about his older brother. Nobody, there or not, knew Sirius Black. Regulus hated that the biggest lies being told - he'd lost count of them with his sudden nausea - were his own.
"My dear friends" - lie - "Sirius shone so brightly each and every day" - lie. "He shone brightly for all of us:" - lie - "you, his loved ones," - lie - "our loving parents" - hilarious lie - "and me" - lie. "We lost him too soon, but all the greatest lights burn out quickly. So I thank you all for being here" - lie - "to celebrate him" - lie - "because he was the best brother" - lie - "a girl" - lie - "could ever have."
Lie. Lie, lie, lie, lie. Regulus was drowning in lies.
Regulus sat down amidst politely demure applause and pretended he couldn't feel his mother's fingernails digging into his shoulder. Pretended until it was true and he was released from consciously feeling, hearing, or seeing anything. He noticed only the lies for the rest of the funeral and reception, counting 280 post-eulogy. How fucking fitting.
The last he counted was one he told, that "I will dearly miss my older brother."
Regulus counted this as a lie.
It would have to be one.
---
"...well shit then. You were serious." Remus rolled his eyes over his shoulder as if expecting some response. "You thought he was dead. You didn't know."
"Yeah, no goddamn shit, Sherlock."
"...so. He's not dead-"
Regulus almost laughed at this, feeling himself inch ever-closer to hysterics. "No, really? Wow, man, thanks so much for telling me!"
Remus rolled his eyes again at this. "He's meeting you tomorrow. For God's sake, don't be an ass."
"No."
Remus looked unimpressed.
"No way! It's pretty obvious he hates my guts, and I don't want to meet him."
"Well that's too damn bad."
Regulus grit his teeth. "No way in hell. I'm not joking, Remus. It wouldn't go well, okay?"
Remus considered for a second. "Fine. Bring your friends. James, Peter, and I will come, too. If something goes terribly wrong, you can leave. I'll never bother you on this again, I'll even stop the others from going after you. Just... show up."
"And if I don't?"
Remus's eyes darkened. "Just show the fuck up, Regulus."
"Woah, calling me a fuck-up and asking me to show myself is a bit far for a coffee date, don't you think?" Regulus was joking, but his eyes were hard.
Barty, bless his high little ass, chose that moment to show up, honking at Regulus about a million times.
Regulus stood up, leaving a $100 bill on the table. Tell the barista she deserves a big tip for dealing with your rat-bastard presence.
"See you at the Bistra at 7 tomorrow, Regulus. Don't be late."
Regulus didn't deign to respond.