Covered In You

“Oh, goddamn
My pain fits in the palm of your freezing hand
Taking mine, but it's been promised to another
Oh, I can't
Stop you putting roots in my dreamland
My house of stone, your ivy grows
And now I'm covered in you”

“Sirius!” squeaks tiny Professor Flitwick. “You’re needed urgently in the headmasters office. You may take your things now!”

Sirius looks over at Remus and Peter sitting next to him in charms class. Remus raises his eyebrows, urging Sirius to go ahead. Peter doesn’t look up from his homework. Sirius gathers his bag and charms work, looking worriedly at Remus.

“I’ve got a bad feeling, Moons,” he says. “Why’re they only asking for me?” As Sirius makes his way to the headmasters office he feels odd not having James by his side. He assumes he’s heading there for a conversation about Regulus, and really James should be there, but he’s been missing since before breakfast and hasn’t been in any classes this morning. Absentmindedly, thinking that he’ll have to search him out after this meeting, he reaches the headmaster’s office. “Fizzing Whizbee” he says to the great stone gargoyle at the enterance. It jumps back, revealing the spiraling stairs that will take Sirius up to the office. He climbs and knocks once he reaches the big oak door at the top.

“Mr. Black. Thank you for joining us so promptly.” says Albus Dumbledore as Sirius enters his office. He’s seated behind his desk, hands folded in front of him and resting on his crooked nose just touching his half-moon spectacles. Professor Minerva McGonagall is standing a short distance away in front of the fire place. “Alastor Moody and Fleamont Potter will be flooing shortly, and I thought it prudent for Professor McGonagall to be present for this conversation as well. I’ve updated her on the situation with Regulus and hopefully she can help you maneuver things should the need arise.” Sirius nods to professor McGonagall.

“So you think they have a plan that can work then?” asks Sirius, not daring to let his hopes sore too high. His stomach turns, he still has a bad feeling.

“Perhaps,” Dumbledore replies airily, not meeting Sirius’ eyes.

The fireplace burns green as Moody and Fleamont’s heads appear side-by-side in the fire place next to McGonagall.

“Dumbledore,” growls Moody. Sirius notices an eye patch on his eye, dried blood coating the outer edges of it. “We have much to discuss. Is the Black boy here?”

“Yes,” replies Dumbledore calmly. Fleamont remains eerily still next to Moody in the fire.

“Boy, come within my sight,” calls out Moody with a huff. Sirius shuffles to the floor in front of the fireplace looking back to Dumbledore for support, of which he gets none. The headmaster is standing with his back to Sirius, gazing out the window. “Plans off, kid. Sorry. We’re not getting your brother out. He’s too far gone.”

“Now Moody-“ starts Fleamont.

“No. The boy went on a mission for Voldemort’s side last night. Thanks to some intel we were able to ambush it, but he was there. I saw him. Rosier, his little friend, managed to do this to my face.” He points at his eye, scowling. “But, no harm. Kid’s dead anyways. And, as for Regulus, he showed no remorse, and he clearly chose what side he’s on. He would have cast next had he not been taken off the field. I will not risk our Aurors to get him out, I’m sorry. The plan is off.” Sirius, gulps. Evan is dead? He doesn’t know what to make of that just yet.

“Alastor, I think you should reconsider. These boys have vouched for him. Could this not be a case of wrong place, wrong time?” Pleads Fleamont.

“No,” responds Moody shortly. “Sirius, I wanted to do you the service of letting you know, but breathe a word of this to no one.” With that Moody disappears out of the fire.

“Really, Albus, that seems brash,” says Fleamont. Dumbledore fixes him with a piercing stare but says nothing.

“There must be something,” says McGonagall, breaking her silence. “They are children, Albus.”

“I am in agreement with Moody, here,” Dumbledore replies. His gaze is cold and Sirius shivers. “There may be nothing more we can do for Regulus at this time.”

Sirius huffs, “Bloody brilliant. Thanks for the help, really! Does no one care about my little brother?”

“I’ll keep working on my end, Sirius. I will figure something out. Don’t give up.” Fleamont says before evaporating out of the fire.

McGonagall places a hand on Sirius, shoulder, and by the look in her eyes he can tell she’s also on his side. “I will do all in my power to keep an eye on him while here in this school, Sirius.”

“That’s it then for you, old man?” Sirius says, locking eyes with Dumbledore.

“Black, really!” Scolds McGonagall.

“No!” Shouts Sirius. “I want to know what he’s going to do to protect his students. The Dark Lord is only gaining strength. Regulus is scared, I’ve seen it. Help me get him out.” Sirius voice breaks, pleading.

McGonagall squeezes Sirius’ shoulder. Dumbledore turns away once again to gaze out of the window. Sirius takes this as his dismissal.

—

Regulus and James have been hidden inside Regulus’ dorm room since yesterday evening when Reg and Barty got back from their mission. Barty took off immediately, and Regulus wasn’t really sure where he could have gone. He was ready to go searching for him when the pain of losing Evan hit him out of nowhere and toppled his fragile occlumency walls. Regulus fell to his hands and knees just outside the entrance to the Slytherin common room and immediately felt two arms wrapping around him. James had come out from under the invisibility cloak, waiting for Regulus, always waiting. He allowed himself to sink into James and let the weight of the mission, the clearly set trap, and Evan’s death wash over him. He was limp in James arms and his body heaved with sobs. James was silent and let Reg feel, for as long as he needed to.

When Regulus’ body was so weak from crying, and he felt that no more tears could possibly come, he placed the cloak back over James. Silently, he entered the Slytherin common room, thankfully emptied at the late hour, and made his way up to his dorm with James following behind and hidden under the cloak. Immediately locking the doors and casting a muffilato, Regulus fell into his four poster. He jammed his palms into his eyes, and sighed. James slowly removed the invisibility cloak and walked over to Regulus’ bed. He shifted around Regulus, curling into him to hold him around the waist. Regulus said nothing, but allowed himself to drift off into a fitful sleep.

The following morning Regulus awoke to James stroking his hair lightly and peppering gentle kisses along Regulus’ freckled cheeks. James must have vanished Regulus’ tattered and dirty clothing from the night before at some point and redressed him. His clothes were no longer stained, but he could still feel the sweat and dirt on the back of his neck and on his arms and legs. He was filthy, and and felt every bit of the night before sinking deep into his bones like tattoo ink seeping too far below the surface. Regulus had no idea how long he’d slept, but his sleep had been plagued by visions of Evan falling and staring blankly up at him. Dead. Evan was dead. Regulus could feel the tears burning at the corners of his eyes, waiting to flood his face once more. He met James’ watchful stare.

“What happened, Reg?” James asks.

Regulus blinks, “Evan is dead.”

“What the hell happened, Reg?” James sighs, the fear clear in his voice.

“It was a trap. They know I’m trying to leave. Someone found out, or someone told. Someone knows, and they set a trap. I think they probably wanted me to die, but they got Evan and it was a good enough punishment I guess because after he died Lucius took Barty and I back out. Oh God, Barty. James, he is devastated. I don’t know how he’s going to get through losing Evan. And, Lucius said..” Regulus stops.

“What did Lucius say?” James asks, pleading.

“He said.. he said they would take everything from me. He said they’d take you. They know about you. About us.”

James pulls Regulus closer, holds him. “It doesn’t matter. My dad should be flooing us any day now. We have a plan and it’s fine.”

“You don’t understand, Potter,” Regulus huffs pushing away from James to sit up on the bed. “They know. And it’s over. This has to end. Moody was there. He saw me. Somebody knew or knows or heard and somebody told.” Regulus’ words are coming out fast, panicked.

“But, who?” Asks James, innocently. “It’s only us who know.” James always thinks the best in everyone; James Potter with the bleeding heart.

“There are spies everywhere, James. You just have to know where to look.”

“Regulus, you can’t give up now,” James says placing an hand on his cheek. “Don’t give up. We can still fight.”

“I am so tired of fighting James,” sighs Reg, pulling away from James’ touch. “I can’t keep rising from the ashes. At some point you just have to let go and let me burn.”

—

After Regulus finally convinces James to leave his dorm (under the cloak and with Regulus’ guidance), he sets off to find Barty. He walks the entire castle searching, and finally makes his way out onto the grounds. Eventually he does find him, on the paddock leading out to Hogsmeade. He moves to stand next to him, both looking out over the Black Lake, in silence. Barty looks broken. Not sad or hurt, but so angry. Regulus has never seen Barty look this angry before. Barty, usually the king of laughter amongst his friends, looks cold. His face is stone looking ahead, as if all the jokes just aren’t funny anymore. For Regulus, losing Evan is like losing a piece of the trio, a puzzle piece that ties the group together. For Barty, though, losing Evan means losing everything.

Barty turns to Regulus, placing a hand on his back. “Walk with me?” he asks.

Regulus doesn’t refuse Barty. He turns and follows his lead towards Hogsmeade village. Perhaps, Barty is looking to drown his sorrows at The Three Broomsticks, or maybe the fresh air is what he needs. Either way, Regulus feels a pull to stay with him, to protect him, to help his last remaining friend in any way he can. They walk in silence the majority of the way to the village, neither making a move to speak first. Regulus knows he’s to blame for Barty’s pain but he can’t bring himself to say so.

Finally Barty breaks the silence. “I’m going to make them pay.”

“What?” Says Regulus, stopping a few steps behind Barty.

“For Evan,” replies Barty, the darkness clouding his eyes. “They’re all going to pay.”

For a moment Regulus agrees. “They” killed Evan. And they deserve to pay for what they did. Vengeance should come swiftly and painfully to Moody, and all those who planned the ambush and cause Evan’s death. It would be just and it would be right. But, Regulus thinks, if they all pay that means everyone on the side of the Order - James, Sirius, all of them and that’s not something Regulus wants. But, he doesn’t tell Barty any of this. Instead, Regulus just nods. They continue walking along the main road of Hogsmeade, towards the direction of the Hogs Head. So, Barty does want to drink away his sorrows, Regulus thinks. He can see two figures standing outside, smoking. Otherwise, the village is empty. It’s close to dusk, the sun sinks behind the horizon casting a pinkish glow over the snowy grounds.

“Are you with me, brother, forever?” Barty asks. Regulus’ chest tightens at the endearment from Barty, his truest and last friend.

“Always,” Regulus says, without really knowing what he’s agreeing too.

“Great, then we’re done here,” says Barty as they approach the men standing outside of the Hogs Head. “There’s nothing left here and you’re coming with me or I swear to Merlin.” He drags Regulus off towards the Hogs Head, where Regulus can now see two Death Eaters waiting to take them out of Hogwarts for good.

—

James, Sirius, Remus, and Peter are at breakfast in the great hall. Remus’ plate is full of toast, eggs, bacon, ham, muffins, and sausage. It’s close to the full moon and his appetite is huge. Sirius stares blankly ahead and James is sitting with his head buried in his arms on the table. James’ head aches dully.

“Where’s Reg today?” Sirius asks.

“He’s probably still sleeping,” says Remus in between bites. “Still early.”

“No he’s always here for breakfast first thing.” Sirius says as he looks around the Great Hall, searching for a sign of black curls. James still hasn’t moved. He thinks Reg is avoiding him and he’s having a hard time feeling connected to him at the moment.

“Probably hiding in the dungeons. I would after a shoddy mission like that.” Says Peter, almost chuckling.

“Yeah..” says Sirius. He stops. “Pete, what are you taking about?”

“The mission,” says Peter. “He clearly failed and botched it the other day so he’s probably licking his wounds.”

“How do you know about the mission, Pete?” Asks Sirius. Thinking, only he and James knew what had happened. James from Regulus himself, and Sirius from the meeting in Dumbledore’s office. Remus knows too, but only cause Sirius told him immediately after he left Dumbledore.

“Oh,” says Peter, eyes growing wide. “You lot were talking about. I just over heard.”

“But, you weren’t with us.” Responds Sirius, not taking his eyes off of Peter. “Where were you?”

“With you, obviously,” responds Peter, twisting his hands in his lap. “Must not of noticed me. Heard you talking is all and just feel like the kid messed up, so thinking that’s why he’s not here.”

“Someone died in that mission, mate.” Says James, voice muffled from his head still laying against the wooden table. Sirius breaks his stare from Peter, he feels his trust wavering, but let’s it go for now. For James’ sake. Remus, however, shuffles further from his spot next to Peter, eyes narrowed at him.

“Anyways,” says Peter.

“Im going back to the room,” says James, it’s Saturday so no classes anyways.

“You should eat something,” says Remus, finally tearing his glare away from Peter. “You’ll feel better.”

“I’m fine,” snaps James. “Just need a minute.” All he feels right now, is pain.

—

***
Pain. Unimaginable pain is all Sirius feels. He’s laid out on the drawing room floor of his home. He can feel the fire next to him burning, the heat far too hot and beginning to scald his skin. Surrounded by people who should be protecting him, but instead are inflicting the pain. He is encircled by his parents, Bellatrix and Rodolphus Lestrange, Narcissa and Lucius Malfoy, and his brother Regulus who is outside of the circle, but still there, lurking in the shadows. “Crucio!” Bellatrix snarls, and once again Sirius feels the blinding pain rip through him, as if every muscle and tendon is being ripped off of his bones. She stops the spell briefly and he lays still, panting, sweat dripping off of every part of his body. It falls in puddles around him and causes him to stick to the drawing room floor, making any movement of his already sore body even more excruciating.

“If he doesn’t want to act like a Black, then maybe this will remind him where the power lies,” says his mother, Walpurga. “Hit him again.”

Bellatrix aims and curses Sirius with another Crucio. It feels like the 10th, but he’s lost count through the pain. He writhes and screams as the curse rips through his body, boiling his blood from the inside, cracking every bone and rebuilding it. He thinks his throat must be bleeding from his screams, the lining must be raw and red from his agony. Bellatrix stops and Sirius stills, whimpering on the drawing room floor.

“That’s enough, now, Bella,” calls Walpurga. “End it.” Rodolphus and Lucius snigger. Narcissa blanches and Sirius’ father, Orion, turns away as if he can’t be bothered to watch any longer. As Bellatrix, raises her wand to cast again an antique vase above her face at the mantle shatters sending shards of ceramic outward. Bella shrieks. Seconds later the remaining vases on the mantel shatter as well. The Black family members duck and scream running from the shards that threaten to slice them and spill their most precious blood. Amidst the chaos in the room, Sirius feels a body kneel next to him. Waiting for the impact of another curse, he hears a frantic voice whisper “Run, Sirius, you have to run. Go. Get out of here.” The voice sounds like Regulus.

Sirius pushes himself onto all fours and crawls towards the drawing room door. It takes most of his strength to reach and by the time he exits the room his hands and legs are shaking so badly that he can barely continue. But, he persists and reaches the hall fireplace. With shaking hands he throws the floo powder into the fireplace and croaks “The Potter’s”. He crawls into the fireplace and just as the green flames engulf his hurting body, he hear Bella’s scream.

“WHERE IS HE?”
***

—

Regulus still isn’t at breakfast the following day. James is trying to give him space to think about his options, but he’s clearly growing restless. It doesn’t help that his head is pounding from going over and over their last conversation. James has wanted to go to Regulus, but he can’t feel him like he usually does. There’s no pull to a certain part of the castle, and James thinks that Reg must just be so deep in occlumency that he’s finally shut him out. Remus, ever the calm and collected friend, has the idea to grab the map and just see where Regulus is so that James can go to him. Remus brings it to the breakfast table, and looks around to make sure no one is watching, before he mutters “I solemnly swear that I am up to no good.” He lays the map out in front of himself, James, Sirius, and Peter as they begin the search for Regulus’ dot. But, it’s not there.

“Wait..” says Sirius, confused. “Where is he?”

“He can’t be,” whispers Remus.

“He’s gone?” asks James looking between Sirius and Remus.

Remus mutters, “Mischief Managed” and four boys take off out of the Great Hall for Dumbledore’s office. They fly past stundemts and teachers, almost knocking over poor Professor Flitwick when they round a corner. McGonagall watches them run by pain etched on her face. When they reach the office, they don’t bother with knocking but rather barge in. Dumbledore is once again seated at his desk, looking over a stack of parchment.

“He’s gone!” Yells Sirius, slamming his hands on the table. “Do you know what happened?”

“I assume you to mean Regulus?” replies Dumbledore. “He is gone. He left last evening with two known Death Eaters. I have it on good authority that he will officially be joining their ranks.”

“No!” shouts Sirius sinking to his knees. Remus grabs him instinctively, holding onto him as he crumbles. Peter shrinks back away from the group. James turns and bolts.

“It can’t be. They’re going to kill him,” James hears Sirius say before he’s down the spiral staircase. He’s runs, but he’s not really sure where he’s running to. He eventually finds himself, out of breath, standing before the alcove. The one he found Reg in earlier in the week before everything went to Hell. He sits and drops his head into his hands.

He sits for a while before he hears feet approach, assuming that one of the Marauders has found him. He really shouldn’t have left Sirius to deal with this on his own but he can regret how poor of a friend he is later. Right now all he can think about is how to get Regulus back.

“Potter?” asks a sharp female voice. “What are you doing?”

James looks straight up into startling green eyes. Lily Evans is standing in front of him, head tilted to the side, pushing a strand of auburn hair behind her ear. “Are you ok?” She asks.

“No,” James replies, his bottom lip trembling slightly.

“Do you want to talk about it?”

“No,” James says, forcing out a dark laugh.

“Okay,” says Lily taking a seat next to James in the alcove. “Then we’ll sit. You don’t have to talk at all.”

—

Regulus shivers as he finds himself once again seated at the Black family dining table. This time there is no Sirius for comfort. No brother to hold his hand or take his parents punishments in Regulus’ place. Barty sits to his left, and Antonin Dolohov to his right. Various other Death Eaters are scattered around the dark wooden table. Lucius is directly across from him, his gray eyes are cold and calculating and narrowed at Barty who sits drumming his fingers impatiently. Clearly, Barty no longer gives a shit about pleasantries or keeping up appearances. Regulus nudges him, slightly, trying not to draw attention to Barty’s behavior. Regulus’ father enters, a sly smile on his face. He doesn’t look at Regulus as he takes a seat next to the head of the table - it’s as if Regulus isn’t even there. An invisible boy finally taking his rightful, silent place at the Black’s table.

After a few moments The Dark Lord approaches the table, cloak billowing behind him as he walks. He is a tall man - dark and brooding. His hair falls slightly over his eyes, which appear snakelike in shape, as if they were slits. Though the appearance of his eyes is startling, in contrast the man is strikingly handsome. His features are sharp and his skin is smooth. He takes a seat next to Regulus’ father and clears his throat.

“Gentleman,” he says, his voice deep and intoxicating. The sound rolls around the room, causing everyone to stop in immediate silence. “I am so very glad you have joined us for this most exciting of nights. It is, after all, the initiation of one of our own, Regulus Arcturus Black.”

Regulus swallows, but begins building his occlumency walls. He stares into the man’s snakelike eyes and nods. Beside the Dark Lord, Orion beams with pride - seemingly thinking that he has one son at least that he can remain proud of indefinitely.

“Before we begin, however, I’d like to touch on a few things,” the Dark Lord says, looking around at his subjects. “My newest and most loyal servant at Hogwarts has been keeping me up to date on the plans of Albus Dumbledore. He intends to move on the Ministry, later this week in fact, and I believe now is the time to act and wrench the Ministry under our total control.” Nods and sounds of affirmation fill the room.

Regulus allows his mind to wander briefly, thinking of a spy at Hogwarts and who that could possible be. Probably Severus, he thinks blandly, the greasy git would no doubt want to show his allegiance. It’s ironic, Regulus thinks, that the Dark Lord speaks of a spy when he clearly has no idea how truly close Regulus came to swaying the other way. How close he came to getting out. But, that was over now.

“… Potter will no doubt be waiting for a counter attack, we need to immobilize him first,” Regulus catches the words that bring him out of his stupor coming from Lucius.

“Fleamont Potter is not threat to me,” Voldemort responds, angrily. “As if one man could beat our plans, Lucius.”

“Yes, my Lord, of course,” stammers Lucius. “I am merely suggesting that he has ties to the order that we should not overlook.”

“Very well,” Voldemort responds. “Keep an eye on Potter.” Lucius bows his head. As soon as Voldemort turns away from him, Lucius looks at Regulus, sneering at him. Regulus stares back, indifferent on the outside but so very afraid for James’ father on the inside.

“Now, if you would approach the hearth with me, Regulus,” says the Dark Lord. Regulus does as he’s told. As he gets up, Barty squeezes his shoulder reassuringly. Lucius glares and his father preens as Regulus walks to meet the Dark Lord. As he approaches, he feels a bony, ice cold hand reach out and grab his left arm. Regulus’ arm is twisted so that his forearm upright. The Dark Lord looks directly in his eyes as he asks, “Regulus Black, do you come before me willingly?”

No. “Yes, My Lord,” he responds boldly, without
wavering.

“Do you willingly accept to follow me, and only me, to the depths of your darkest desires?”

“Yes, My Lord.”

“Will you obey and honor me as your one true master, doing as I ask without question?”

“Yes, My Lord.” Regulus breathes. He shows no emotion, only regards the Dark Lord coldly, not letting him into his walls.

“Then, I bring you in as a Death Eater, Regulus Black, from this day forward, you belong to me. Meus Usque Ad Mortem.”
Regulus feels first the itch on his skin, the writhing beneath it, like ants scratching to escape. Then comes the burning. He fights to hold steady and unflinching as the pain burns into his veins into his entire body. Internally, he screams in agony, externally he is a mask of indifference. The room erupts in applause. Regulus looks at the snake and skull tattooed on his forearm. Regulus Black feels nothing.

—

In the Gryffindor boys dormitory, James starts out of a dreamless sleep. He is clammy and his heart is racing. He sits up in his bed a sense of foreboding creeping up around him. He is chilled to the bone. First he feels as if his skin is covered in bug bites, itching uncomfortably. Then, without warning he is in unimaginable pain like he never felt before. He screams, waking the other boys. Sirius runs to his side, ripping back the curtains of his four poster.

“James what is it?” He asks, looking frantically around the dorm.

“Reg,” James chokes out.

—

Peter walks into Dumbledore’s office and seats himself across from the headmaster. His beady eyes dart back and forth and he wrings his hands together in his lap. He’s nervous.

“P-professor,” he chokes out.

“Peter, thank you for joining me tonight,” responds Dumbledore, his cool blue eyes piercing into Peter. “I wanted to extend a thank you for your cooperation in helping us stop a mission that could have ended very gravely the other night. Without your cooperation and insight into the situation, we would not have been able to stop the three young Voldemort supporters.”

“But, someone was killed, headmaster.”

“These things happen, Peter,” Dumbledore replies dryly. “Sometimes death must come for the greater good.”