Confessions
August 1982
Regulus’ home was usually quiet and cold. Every item had its place and meaning. But tonight was different. The walls, normally covered in grim portraits and heavy, dark wooden panels, seemed to almost vibrate in sync with the sound of laughter and conversations filling the room. It was as if the energy from the concert still lingered in the air, and even though the music had faded, the last notes still played in Regulus’ mind, an inevitable echo he couldn’t shake off.
Regulus tried to keep up with what was happening around him. Barty and Evan were loudly cheering and drinking straight from the bottles, while Pandora giggled sweetly at something Dorcas had said. Marlene sat beside her, deeply engrossed in playing with Dorcas’ hair. Despite his friends’ antics, Regulus felt a heaviness in his mind that didn’t seem to lift. The mild buzz from the alcohol coursing through his body only made the inner turmoil worse. He couldn’t stop thinking about the concert. The sight of James on stage haunted his thoughts, like a shadow refusing to leave. There was something about the way James had looked at him that struck him deeply.
Regulus let his gaze fall on his friends again. They were all so carefree, so relaxed. He envied them for their freedom to be themselves. The first few glasses of alcohol had gone down quickly. It wasn’t that Regulus enjoyed drinking – in fact, he hated being drunk – but tonight it felt like the only way to dull the anxiety simmering in his mind. The sounds from the concert, the sight of James on stage, and the reminder of what he could never have still burned in his thoughts.
The atmosphere in the room was loose, and the laughter grew louder as the glasses emptied. Time seemed to flow strangely, as if it were both rushing and dragging at the same time. Regulus could feel how the alcohol was slowly but surely taking over his control. Normally, he would stick to one or two drinks, but tonight was different. Every sip seemed to bring him further away from reality and closer to the edge of what he had been trying so desperately to avoid. Barty came stumbling towards Regulus, a bottle of whisky in one hand and Evan in the other. His eyes were glassy from the alcohol, and his cheeks were flushed from the warmth. He stopped no more than ten centimeters from where Regulus was leaning against a wall.
“Regulus,” Barty said so loudly he might as well have shouted. “Your mouth is as shut as my last attempt at a love confession! Reg, I miss your sarcastic jabs, even if they sting harder than this whisky!” Barty spoke quickly, lifting the whisky to emphasize his point. He tugged at Evan’s hand, signaling it was now his turn to provoke Regulus.
“Come on, Regulus. We need some dark humor to spice up this whisky!" Barty shot an annoyed look at Evan, pouting dramatically.
“This whisky is good and spicy! Unlike some people in this room.” At first, Regulus thought Barty was talking about him, but when he glanced at the two boys, it became clear – Barty was talking about Evan, and Evan didn’t appreciate what Barty had just said.
“Seriously, man, you think too much and drink too little. Have some more, it’ll help you relax.” Evan took the empty glass from Regulus’ hand and filled it with the whisky he’d just snatched from Barty.
Without hesitation, Regulus drank it all in one gulp. Barty clapped his hands in delight, having long forgotten his earlier irritation.
“Regulus, you’re quieter than usual,” Barty said with a teasing smile, pouring even more whisky into Regulus’ now empty glass.
“Mmm, just thinking,” Regulus grumbled, before downing this glass of alcohol too.
“Didn’t I just tell you to stop thinking?” Evan asked. And if Regulus was being honest, he couldn’t remember. The alcohol was starting to take its toll. His vision became blurred, and the room around him suddenly felt hazy, as if everything was just a dream. Every word spoken seemed like a drawn-out echo, and he could no longer distinguish between what was said aloud and what was just in his head.
“Come!” someone said. Regulus wasn’t sure who, but he allowed the person to pull him towards the three girls sitting on the couch. Evan and Barty sat on the couch across from the girls, and Regulus sat on the floor.
“Don’t you want to sit on the couch?” Regulus had a hard time figuring out who had asked, but he guessed it was Marlene. She was the only one who didn’t know him well enough to realize he preferred sitting on the floor.
“Reg loves the floor. He says it’s more solid than our future.” Ah, now that voice he recognized. Pandora’s voice always had a certain purity and lilting tone to it. The others burst out laughing. Well, Dorcas and Barty did. Evan chuckled, his laugh warm and comforting, a sound that normally put everyone around him at ease.
“What? What are you all laughing at?” Pandora seemed unaware of her own humor. In fact, that was what made her such a funny creature. She always said exactly what she thought, 89 percent of the time being strange and hilarious things.
Regulus grumbled. “I mean that couches are for people who haven’t discovered the floor’s potential."
Now they all laughed again. This time, Pandora’s laughter joined in. When she laughed, it sounded like little bells or the sound of running water.
Barty, of course, had a comment to add. “I think it’s because the floor gives him a better view of our shoes.” He chirped. “Let’s say whoever comes up with the most realistic reason wins a bottle of whisky.” Everyone burst out in approving sounds. Everyone except Evan, who groaned.
“But it’s not even good whisky! I want to win something I actually like!”
Barty smirked. “Don’t worry, we won’t need a better prize because you’re not going to win! In fact, none of you are,” Barty pointed at the others. “Because I’ve already won!”
“Don’t be so cocky, Crouch. I think Regulus is like a cat. He just prefers the floor over everything else.”
Regulus let out a small whimper.
“Stop! No more cat comparisons. I swear, whoever said that about the cat – I’ll kill you in your sleep tonight. Slowly.” Someone coughed, likely Barty.
“Yeah, that was Dorcas. And I’m not letting anyone get near her tonight!” a woman added quickly. “And this is Marlene, by the way.” Well, that cleared it up.
“Yeah, you’ve all had some interesting guesses, but I’m sure I’m the one who’s right,” a slight pause for suspense, “I—Evan—believe he prefers sitting on the floor because there’s less risk of falling.” Everyone groaned, including Regulus.
“Okay, that happened once. One time! Can we stop talking about it already?”
Everyone laughed. Marlene, who hadn’t met Regulus until today, leaned closer to Dorcas and whispered in her ear, “How did Regulus fall off the couch? He doesn’t seem like the type to ever fall. Ever.”
Dorcas chuckled but whispered back softly, “Back when they were all at the same school, they used to hang out in the boys’ room. There was one time they smoked weed together, and when Reg went to sit on the couch, he misjudged the distance and ended up flat on the floor. He’s preferred the floor ever since, and they’ve been teasing him ever since too.”
Regulus sighed. Would he ever be free from these kinds of comments?
“Well, now only Marlene is left to make a guess!” Barty’s voice was slurred, and it definitely had as much to do with how much alcohol Regulus had consumed as it did with how much Barty had.
“I’m not sure. Maybe he just has a theory that sitting on the floor helps him think deeper. Like it makes him more grounded!”
Regulus amused himself with the fact that they’d all made a guess now, so he could finally end this conversation.
“Well, all that’s left is to declare a winner. I won’t bother with a drumroll, so the winner is: Evan!” Someone gasped, and Reg assumed it was Barty.
“Well, Crouch, looks like I wasn’t going to win, huh? Hand over the whisky!”
Barty held the bottle protectively. Almost like it was his baby.
“You don’t even like it!”
Evan sighed. “I don’t care. Alcohol is alcohol. And I do like it, it’s just too sweet. You’ve clearly never tasted real whisky!” With that, he snatched the bottle from Barty and got up from the couch. It didn’t take more than two minutes before Barty was already wrapped up in a new conversation and had forgotten all about the whisky.
Evan sat down next to Regulus, who was still sitting on the floor.
“Take this,” Evan lifted the whisky bottle in the air. “You look like you need it more than I do.” He dropped the bottle into Reg’s lap and returned to his seat beside Barty.
Regulus picked up the bottle and studied the clear liquid. The alcohol had already blurred his vision, but he could still make out the price tag. It had been cheap. Evan was probably right about the taste, but Regulus unscrewed the cap anyway and took a big swig. The clear liquid burned all the way down his throat. There was something about the feeling of the alcohol’s warmth, slowly spreading from his stomach and into the rest of his body, that made everything else seem less important. The sharp edges of his thoughts blurred, and the world around him suddenly felt less threatening, as if it drifted a little farther away with every drink he took. His mind flitted between different topics without settling on anything. Sometimes he laughed loudly, almost too loudly, without really knowing why. The words flowed out of him, but it was as if they didn’t always come out the way he meant them. His mouth formed sentences, but they sounded strange, like he was hearing himself for the first time.
When he looked at his friends, they felt both closer and farther away than ever before. Faces turned into blurry outlines, and he had to concentrate to hold their gaze. But he didn’t care. Or at least, he didn’t until the conversation shifted back to the concert.
“Ah, it was such a wonderful concert! There was just this... this muchness about it!” The others laughed hysterically at the nonsensical sentence, but they weren’t any better at putting together coherent thoughts themselves.
“I have to agree, Pan. We practiced like hell, and James just did something... magical! His voice was so intense.” Even though Regulus was drunk, he could still recognize that it was Marlene speaking.
“We went to school with him. He used to belt out love songs to that Evans girl, at least. Are they still together?” Lily Evans. It was a name Regulus remembered as well as his own parents’. The girl James spent most of his school years longing after. Apparently without success, but Evan’s(?) comment sent Regulus' thoughts spiraling elsewhere. Were they together? Had she finally given in to him? Good thing Regulus was drunk, because if he weren’t, he’d probably be close to throwing up his organs.
“Nope, they’re not together and never have been. James realized about three years ago that she’d never return his feelings and got over her. That’s just how James is. The biggest romantic, but also the most understanding person. He hasn’t been in a serious relationship since.” Regulus grunted. How did Marlene know him so well? It wasn’t fair!
Regulus could feel his pulse in his ears, his heart pounding hard in his chest. He knew he was drunk—really drunk—and though a voice in the back of his mind warned him to take it easy, he pushed it away. The words were pressing to get out, and in that moment, he didn’t care about the consequences.
“Lucky girl! She doesn’t know what she said no to. If I’d been in her place, I would’ve said yes,” Regulus continued, oblivious to the sudden silence that enveloped him. “I mean, James is gorgeous, and he’s got those two freckles under his left eye that just seem to sparkle. And those thighs” He stopped mid-rant when he realized everyone had gone completely quiet.
“You... you’re serious, aren’t you?” Barty’s voice was weak, almost whispering. “It’s not just the alcohol talking?”
He took another swig, and with it, let his thoughts fade a little more, allowing himself to slip further away from the reality he didn’t want to face right now. But the alcohol in Regulus’ blood had already taken over. The pressure from the conversation and his own feelings was too much to hold in. Before he knew it, he heard himself say the words he’d feared for so long.
“I... I’ve had a crush on James... for years,” he blurted out quickly. So quickly, in fact, that it was almost one word.
I’vehadacrushonJamesforyears.
An ear-splitting silence followed. It was as if the confession had sobered them all up. Barty and Evan stared at him with wide eyes, unable to find anything to say. Pandora’s face softened with understanding; she’d had a suspicion but never wanted to intrude. Dorcas, who had only joined the group a few months ago, looked a little shocked, but she quickly replaced it with a kind smile, as if she were trying to find the right way to react.
“You’ve seen him before, right? Be a little understanding! You’re not the only queer one in this group, Dorcas!” Regulus didn’t even bother mentioning Marlene. All he could think about was what would happen next. He had revealed his deepest secret, and he didn’t know if he could handle the consequences. Marlene knew James, and she would definitely run to that thick-headed boy and spill Regulus’ little secret. The rest of the evening passed by in a blur. There was laughing, talking, and more drinking, but Regulus was only half-present. He felt distant, almost like a spectator to his own life. When the night finally ended, he pulled away from the others, unable to find the words to explain how he felt. Dorcas went home with Marlene, and Barty and Evan made sure Pandora got into a shared taxi.
In his room, alone and still dizzy with alcohol, he sank onto his bed. Everything that had happened played over and over in his mind, like a loop of shame and fear. He had revealed something he never intended to say out loud, and now he had to live with it.
The effects of the alcohol were starting to wear off, but the feeling of emptiness only grew stronger. He stared up at the ceiling, his thoughts swirling uncontrollably. He had crossed a line, and there was no going back. But amidst all the anxiety and uncertainty, there was also a small spark of relief. He had finally said it. Now it was out in the world, and whatever happened next, he would have to face the consequences.
James was impatient. It was 9:30 AM, and he had been waiting since sunrise to head over to Marlene's. He knew her well enough to know that she liked to sleep in, but even James' patience had its limits. Marlene had been at Regulus' place yesterday, and James was eager... but what exactly was he eager for? What exactly did he plan to do once he was standing in front of Marlene at half past nine in the morning after a concert? Yeah, Sirius had definitely influenced James’ impulsiveness.
As James walked down the street, enjoying the faint sound of birds chirping, a plan began to form in his mind. He wanted to see Regulus, that much was clear. And to see Regulus, James needed to know where to find him. Luckily for James, the universe was on his side. Marlene just so happened to know his exact address. All James had to do was get it out of her. That might be tricky at half past nine in the morning, but as mentioned before, James had absolutely no patience when it came to Regulus. So instead of speeding up and tempting fate even more, even if only by five minutes, he slowed down and let the cool morning air calm him.
Okay, he would find Regulus, and Marlene was the key to that. James would need to play his cards right. He couldn’t just barge in and ask, like he might have done with Sirius or Remus. No, Marlene would expect explanations, even though she had the worst hangover. What exactly was he hoping to achieve by finding Regulus? James could feel his heart beat a little faster just at the thought of Regulus. Those emerald green eyes and jet-black curls—it was a lethal combination that had more than once made James forget to breathe.
As he turned the corner and got closer to Marlene's house, his heart began to pound faster. Marlene wasn’t the type to wake up early, and James knew he had to be careful if he wanted to avoid having the door slammed in his face. He thought back to the night before, when Marlene had left them all after the concert, how she had quickly disappeared with a crooked smile that said more than her words. James preferred not to beg, but she knew things—things that James needed to know now.
When he reached her door, he paused for a moment to collect himself. Breathe in and out. In and out. James was cool, and he could handle this. It was still early, and he could hear the silence from inside the building. Everyone was probably still asleep. Marlene would likely be in a deep sleep, maybe with a hangover on top of it. It wasn’t ideal, but James had decided he couldn’t wait any longer. He knocked three times and stepped back as he waited. Nothing happened. He knocked again, a little harder than he had intended, but after a minute, still nothing. Marlene, the late sleeper. James sighed—there was no way around it. He lifted his fist and knocked hard seven times.
A few seconds passed, feeling like an eternity, before he heard footsteps behind the door. They were heavy, dragging, and when the door finally opened, Marlene stood there in all her morning glory, her hair a wild mane of curls and her eyes narrow from sleep. She was wearing a large, worn T-shirt, and James could see she was definitely not in the mood for visitors.
"James?" her voice was hoarse, her gaze foggy. "Go home. I don't want visitors until tomorrow!"
"I... um, I just wanted to talk to you about something," James began, but he could already see Marlene's gaze sharpening. "Something important."
"Something important," Marlene repeated with a skeptical raise of her eyebrow. "At shit in the morning? Have you lost your mind?"
James tried to smile, but it only seemed to irritate Marlene more. She placed her hand on the door and began to push it closed, but James quickly stuck his foot in the way to stop her.
"No, wait, Marlene! It’s really important!" he said quickly, with a tone of desperation he couldn’t hide.
"James, I have the worst hangover, and Dorcas is still lying naked in my bed, asleep. So unless you want a guitar thrown at you, I suggest you get out now and let me sleep!" Marlene's voice was low but filled with warning, and she pushed at the door again, but James held on.
James took a deep breath. "I need to find Regulus. I know you know his address. You were at his place yesterday, so you must know where he lives."
Marlene raised an eyebrow and looked at him like he was crazy. "And why on earth would I give it to you? Regulus is none of your business, and this can definitely wait until later."
"Come on, Marlene. Please! Be nice. I'm begging you with an extra cherry on top!" James said, giving her a pleading look.
Marlene sighed heavily and massaged her temples. "James, I am really not in the mood for this right now—"
But James wasn’t listening anymore. He saw his chance when Marlene briefly moved slightly away from the door opening. With a quick step, he slipped past her and inside.
"What the hell, James?" Marlene exclaimed as she quickly closed the door and stormed after him.
James ignored her protests and headed determinedly towards her bedroom.
"I just need to quickly find the address, Marlene, and then I’ll be out."
Marlene caught up with him and grabbed his arm just before he could open the bedroom door. "No, James! You're not going in there!"
James stopped and looked at her, clearly confused. "Why not? I just want to see if you've written it down somewhere."
"Because Dorcas is in there!" Marlene hissed, shoving him away from the door. "And she's naked! So unless you want more trouble than you've already caused, back off right now!"
James paused, still with his hand on the doorknob, but then let his arm fall. He could feel he was pushing his luck. "Okay, okay," he said as he stepped back. "But Marlene, please help me. I really need to find Regulus."
Marlene stared at him, her irritation clear in every part of her body language. She knew James wouldn’t give up. She knew he would keep pestering her until she gave him what he wanted.
"James, I’m tired. Can’t we have this discussion tomorrow? At a time when I’m not contemplating how it might affect our band if I cut your tongue out so you’d stop being so goddamn annoying!" Ugh, she was easy to break today. James just had to keep pushing, and she’d be so eager to get rid of him that she’d hand over the address.
James looked at Marlene with a mix of desperation and almost childish eagerness. He knew he had to find the right tone to convince her, so he gathered all his strength and said with a voice that was almost overly pleading:
"Marlene, I really understand that it’s early, and I wouldn’t be bothering you if it wasn’t really, really important—you have to believe me, I’d rather swallow a whole boot than stand here and pester you like this. You know the address, and I’m asking you, please, just give it to me so I can go and find him. I know it sounds like a bunch of crap, but I promise I’ll be out of your hair in no time, and you won’t hear from me again for ages. I’m not standing here disturbing you for fun—I need your help right now, and you’ll be a real saint if you just give me a chance. Please, Marlene, be kind so I don’t end up being a nervous wreck all day!"
With a deep sigh, she walked over to a small dresser where she had left a piece of paper and a pen. She quickly scribbled down an address and handed the paper to James, her expression hard. "Here. Now get out before I really get mad. And remember, you never got this address from me."
James accepted the paper with a broad smile. He looked down at it.
3 Ivy Street.
"Thank you, Marlene. You’re a lifesaver!"
"Yeah, yeah," she muttered, pointing to the door. "Out now, before Dorcas wakes up."
James gave her one last grateful glance before hurrying out and down the stairs. He couldn’t believe his luck—he had gotten what he came for. He rushed out onto the street, his steps quick and light. Now he just had to plan how and when to approach Regulus. After all, he wanted to be a little prepared, and he had been impulsive enough for a long time.
Regulus felt terrible. It was as if a group of small, angry dwarves were living in his head, banging drums with his brain cells and tap-dancing on his nerves, while a sandstorm raged in his mouth, kicking away any liquid he tried to consume.
In short, hangovers for Regulus were an experience of utter misery, where all he wanted was to disappear under the covers and never get up again until the world started making sense. His head throbbed with a heavy, monotonous rhythm, and every small movement sent sharp waves of pain through his skull. Light was far too bright, and sounds were far too loud, as if the world had been cranked up to a level that was completely unforgiving.
His stomach felt unstable, as if it was on the verge of turning itself inside out at any moment. There was a constant nausea, an unpleasant sensation that made even the thought of food or drink unbearable. His body was heavy and sluggish, as if someone had drained all energy from it, and his muscles ached for no apparent reason. His skin was sensitive, and even the slightest touch could be irritating.
The thirst was endless, but it was hard to tell if a sip of water would soothe the dryness in his throat or just worsen the nausea. His thoughts were slow and foggy, making it impossible to focus or concentrate on anything.
"Ugh!" The shirt he was wearing was irritating and bothered his skin. The fabric, usually neutral, now felt like sandpaper against his body. The collar squeezed his neck, and every seam was irritating. He felt claustrophobic in it. It clung to his sweaty skin, making the hairs on the back of his neck rise. Every time he moved, the fabric cut into his body, and he could barely stand to have it on for another second. He needed something else, something soft, something that could make him feel safe. The only thing that made him feel secure was the blanket Sirius had had, but you couldn't exactly wear a blanket as a shirt.
Sirius.
Maybe there was some old clothing in his room that he hadn’t taken when he left. With that thought in mind, Regulus swung his legs over the side of the bed and glanced around the dark room. The only light came from a thin strip of daylight sneaking through a crack between the heavy curtains. The thought of getting up and facing the world felt overwhelming, but it was necessary. The fabric scratched. With a deep sigh, he stood up, gripping the edge of the bed to keep from collapsing.
Sirius' room still stood as it had the day he... disappeared. It was one of the few places in the house that still held a sense of personality and warmth, even though it was now covered in dust. Regulus walked carefully down the hallway. He was completely alone, and the only sounds were the cars outside and his own breathing. Regulus usually avoided things that reminded him of Sirius, but at the same time, he sought after them. He knew that Sirius didn’t want to see him again, so it was just about holding on to the memories. Right now, he didn’t care whether he should avoid memories of his brother; he just wanted to find some comfortable clothes.
When Regulus finally arrived, he opened the door to Sirius' room. The air inside was heavy and still, as if the room itself was waiting for something that would never come back. Dust floated around in the room, stirred by the little breeze from when Regulus had opened the door. The walls were adorned with posters. Some featured famous rock stars, and others with scantily clad women Sirius had only hung up the latter to annoy Walburga. It had worked too; he’d been deprived of meals for an entire week. Regulus shook his head, hoping that the images of Sirius being so hungry he couldn’t walk would leave his mind.
The room was rectangular and had high ceilings. A bed stood against the back wall with a window above it. The sheets were red (again to irritate Walburga, who had never liked red unless it was blood). On the bedside table lay some schoolbooks and those comic books that James loved so much. The room looked so peaceful. Too peaceful. He walked toward a dresser against the wall and opened the top drawer; it was filled with pants. Regulus closed it and opened the one below. It was crammed with shirts, sweaters, undershirts, and much more. He quickly skimmed over the black and gray clothing until his gaze fell on a red knitted sweater. It stood out from all the dark clothes, and he hesitated for a moment. It didn’t look like something Sirius would normally wear, but there was something about it that drew Regulus in. Maybe it was the soft, warm color or the way the sweater seemed to embrace everything around it.
He pulled the red jumper out of the drawer and held it up in front of him. It was large and soft, with long sleeves that looked like they could cover his hands entirely. Without thinking further, he pulled off the annoying shirt and threw it into a corner of the room. As he pulled the red jumper over his head, he immediately felt the difference. It was soft and comfortable against his skin, and it didn’t irritate him like his shirt had.
The large jumper hung loose and heavy on his body, but it felt secure and protective, almost like a barrier between him and the rest of the world. He let himself fall back onto Sirius' bed, wrapped in the unexpected comfort the sweater gave him. The most important thing was that, for the first time that morning, he felt a little less miserable.
As he lay there on the bed, he felt something underneath the soft fabric. Regulus quickly sat up and moved away from the bed to pull the blanket aside. Under the red fabric lay a leather-bound book. He recognized it all too well. It was a photo album filled with pictures of Reg and Sirius. That summer when Sirius was twelve and Regulus eleven, they had bought a Polaroid camera and spent the summer filling the book. He lifted it up and wiped the dust off with the edge of his new sweater.
"Reg and Sirius' Great Adventures."
God, that had been a fun summer. Regulus opened the first page, only to find it empty. He flipped to the next one, but it was the same. Regulus looked through all the pages, but all the pictures were gone. The only thing left were small notes about their many adventures and a lot of blank paper. Sirius must have taken them out before he left. It hurt even though it didn't have to. Sirius was not even around anymore, so why keep sticking to the memories? Regulus did not have the answer to the question, but he knew one thing for sure: he wanted to remember the time they spent together. All. Of. Them. He closed the book and spun around on his heel. He marched out the door with the book in hand and a brand-new jumper on. Now he was going to sleep.