Covered In You

***
James wakes up in the hospital wing with a pounding headache. He opens his eyes, and squints, adjusting to the blinding sunshine pouring in through the large windows on all sides of the room. His vision is blurry without his glasses, but he can make out the hunched shape of Madame Pomfrey fussing over someone in the bed next to him. He reaches over for his glasses on the table beside his bed, wincing at the throbbing pain in his temples. Putting his glasses on he sits up, slightly and glances over to Pomfrey. She’s casting a diagnostic spell over Sirius who is laying quite still and unconscious in the bed next to him.

“He’ll be fine,” drawls a voice from across the isle. “Just fell a little hard after I stunned him.”

James looks across his bed at Regulus who’s sitting up, arms crossed and scowling. “Tosser deserved it,” he says.

“Mr. Black,” huffs Pomfrey. “Language if you please. Sirius will be fine, he should wake up shortly. I have some paperwork to file.” She fixes the two boys that are awake with a piercing, hawk-like stare, “Behave.”

“What did you have to curse me for?” Asks James as soon as Pomfrey is out of earshot. He lets himself fall back on to his pillow vision blurry and eyes burning.

“You were also acting like a tosser,” replies Regulus examining his fingernails and avoiding eye contact with James.

“Well he shouldn’t have punched you!” Says James sitting up, wincing, and quickly laying back down. “Ow.”

“Well, we shouldn’t have been sneaking around behind his back either,” sighs Regulus. Sirius grunts next to James and starts to stir. Regulus looks over at his brother in the bed, sadness behind his eyes, and longing. Sirius opens his eyes, blinks, and groans.

“Bloody hell,” he says rubbing his eyes. He looks back and forth from James to Regulus face contorting between pain and anger. His glance lands on James and he says, “How could you?”

“Sirius-“ James starts.

“No,” snaps Sirius. “Don’t answer. I don’t even care.” He turns over in the bed so that his back is towards James and pulls the covers back up over his shoulders.

“I really care for him, Sirius,” says James trying to restore the cracks forming between them. They wriggle like snakes growing the chasm between friends ever deeper. “We care about each other and Regulus and I we care about you.”

Sirius rolls his eyes, and then says “I have my back to you so I know you can’t see but I’m rolling my eyes at you.”

“King of petulance you are,” smirks James, thrilled that Sirius is joking really, that means there is still a chance. “Come on Pads. Why can’t we all just talk?”

“Because you both went behind my back just to spite - to hurt me,” Sirius says, voice breaking.

“We didn’t do it to hurt you,” says Regulus.

Sirius laughs, “Could have fooled me. That’s exactly what you did. Not like you’d care whether or not I’m hurting anyways, eh, Reggie?”

“I don’t want you to be hurt,” Regulus says forcefully. His conviction in that moment so strong that both the other boys shoot up in their beds despite their aching heads. “I don’t want anything bad to happen to you.”

James smiles widely at the confession, much to Regulus’ annoyance. Sirius just stares at him for a moment before hoisting himself out of the bed. His legs wobble as he walks toward Regulus, holding onto the bed rails as he passes them for support.

“Sirius, you shouldn’t,” James begins but Sirius holds up a finger and shushes him.

He reaches Regulus’ bed and leans over placing one arm on each side of his brother. Their noses almost touch as Sirius looks into Regulus gray eyes.

“What are you doing?” asks Regulus.

“Was it you?” Sirius responds, his question hanging between the brothers like a thread, thin and fragile, waiting to be cut.

“Was what me?”

“At Grimmauld. The spell that stopped Bella and distracted everyone so I could get out. Was. It. You?”

“Yeah,” says Regulus looking up at his older brother. “Yeah, that was me.”

Sirius continues to stare at Regulus, as if he’s unsure what his next move should be. Regulus reaches out to put a hand on Sirius’ shoulder, nervously as if touching his older brother would poison him. But he does and he squeezes and Sirius let’s his head drop into Regulus’ lap and he says, “I’ve missed you little brother.”

“We’re a family again!” Sobs James from across the isle.
***

—

Severus Snape stalks through Grimmauld place searching for Regulus. Black cloak billowing behind him, he stomps through the corridors heavy boots scuffing the floors as he walks. He stops outside of the library and stumbles back as he attempts to enter, the wards pushing him away from the entrance and alerting Regulus to his presence.

“BLACK,” Snape bellows. “If you could hastily let me in it would be much appreciated. We need to have a word.” Snape feels the magic around the library door dissolve as Regulus appears, looking disheveled and worn as if he hadn’t had sleep in many days.

“To what do I owe the pleasure?” Regulus rasps looking around the corridor.

“May I?” Snape asks, but rather than wait for Regulus to answer he side steps him and moves into the library. Regulus follows him in, cautiously. Snape turns and casts a silencing and locking charm at the door. “You look like shite,” he says. Regulus scoffs.

“I know you’re up to something, Black,” Snape accuses, beady black eyes boring into Regulus. “And I want in.”

Regulus looks away, “I don’t know what you’re talking ab-“

“Don’t,” Snape cuts him off. “It’s been clear to anyone since school of your taking to Potter, and your reaction to the prophecy was hardly unnoticed. I know you’re up to something and I want to help. If you’re going to move against Voldemort I want to help. Barty has told me-“

“Barty, what? Barty shouldn’t-“

“Barty is a smart man, Black. He knows the way the tides are turning and he can see where this war is going to go. His allegiance is wisely cast to himself and his own safety, but for some reason he cares about your well being. He was sound of mind enough to confide in me. Let me help you.”

“I can’t really understand what your game is here, Snape,” says Regulus, walking further into the library to take a seat at his table littered with books and notes. “If you know what I’m doing, or if Barty has truly made you aware, then why the sudden change of heart?Why make a move now, against your Dark Lord that you’ve served so faithfully? How can I know where your loyalties truly lie?”

Snape sighs, blowing a curtain of greasy black hair out from in front of his eyes. He takes out his wand and mutters, “Expecto Patronum.” A doe appears prancing through the library in whisps of silvery light. “Because,” Snape says, “Lily Evans is the only woman I’ve ever loved and I will do anything to protect her. And her child.”

Regulus watches the doe’s frosty figure float around the room before Snape breaks the spell and it dissolves into the air. He looks up at Snape, and gestures to the papers littering the table before him. “Well then,” he says, “have a seat.”

—

As he lands in front of his cottage, Remus rakes a hand over his face. He is exhausted and ready to climb into bed after what has undoubtedly been the longest day ever. He’d been on a mission for the order the previous day, and while exciting, his missions always ended with loads of interviews and paperwork at the Ministry (the perks of both being and working with werewolves). The worst part of trying to wrangle the werewolf population for the Order’s cause was that he couldn’t always tell Sirius about it. He’d come home to his partner greeting him at the door (the irony of that not lost on him) and want to spill about his entire day but have to remain silent. Sirius always asked how his day had gone, but he never pressed when Remus didn’t say. Or couldn’t.

Remus places his forehead against the wooden door to his home and gives himself a moment before going in. Sirius still shouldn’t be home from his own mission and Remus isn’t sure he’s ready to face an empty home after the day he’s had. His meeting the day prior with Fenrir Greyback did not go well and he’d had to explain himself to Moody (his distrust of Remus thick during the post-mission interview) many times over. He knows he can’t speak about it with Sirius but he longs for his company on nights like these. He stretches and turns the door handle slowly entering the cottage. Immediately, Remus can sense that’s he’s not alone in his home. The hair on the back of his neck prickles and his senses alert as he smells the scent of more than one human gathered inside his home. He can feel their pulses, quick and expectant and sense their excitement. He quickly grabs his wand out of his back pocket and slowly makes his way further into the house turning the corner into the living area. He braces for attack holding his wand at eye level. Rather than seeing a flash of light or hearing a curse come his way the first thing he notices are candles lining the floor. Hundreds of lit candles against the hardwood. And then, daisies strewn across the room, intermingled with candles and filling the room with the sweetest perfumed scent.

He scans the room further, dropping his guard slightly as he notices the smiling faces of Minerva McGonagall, Effie Potter, Mary MacDonald and Peter Pettigrew, looking toward him, euphoric. Confused, Remus glances down in front of him and he spots Sirius, down on one knee looking up at him, hopefully. All fear and confusion gone, he makes his way over to Sirius quickly bridging the gap and kneeling beside him running a hand down his cheek. “Sirius?” He says, barely a whisper.

“Hiya Moony,” Sirius, laughs. “Thought I’d do the thing all proper. Wanna be my husband?”

—

The days at Grimmauld blur together as Regulus and Snape work. They pour over texts and documents to learn everything they can about Horcruxes and keep their ears open willing Voldemort to slip up enough for them to get a hint at what he could have possibly used to split his soul. Regulus wonders about the death that caused the split - that made the Horcrux. Snape, however, says that dwelling on someone who’s already dead is a bloody waste of their time. Regulus has to admit that Snape is incredible at playing double agent and has given no inkling whatsoever that he’s faltering in his duty to the Dark Lord. In fact, it’s hard for Regulus to see Snape as a partner sometimes when he plays the part of Death Eater so very well. He is, however, grateful to have someone else to share the burden with.

Regulus leaves the library mid-morning, securing the wards (should anyone come snooping) with a quick wave of his wand, and hands in his pockets makes his way to one of the many dining rooms. He allows himself a longer walk to occlude and put up his walls before he meets with the Death Eaters at Voldemort’s request. Walking through the dark hall he passes many portraits that sneer and scowl down at him: a Black heir not living up to their expectations. As he turns the corner into the corridor that leads to the dining room he hears two voices, both low, one hissing at the other. He creeps closer to the slightly ajar door of a small study, and listens.

“What is it that is so urgent you couldn’t possibly wait until after the meeting?” Regulus hears Voldemort’s snake like tone cut out. He’s angry and clearly his temper is being taken out on whoever is in the room with him.

“M-my L-lord,” stammers Peter Pettigrew, Regulus would easily recognize his frightened voice anywhere. “I ensure you this is of the utmost importance-“

“Then out with it boy, I have much to prepare.”

“The Potter’s my Lord,” says Peter his voice barely above a whisper, but so full of glee and excitement Regulus can almost see his beaming face. Regulus’ breath catches and he holds his hand over his mouth to keep himself quiet. “Our plan has worked! They have put their trust in me. Sirius Black has convinced them to make me secret keeper, and I know their whereabouts. We can move forward-“

Voldemort laughs joyfully, high pitched and screeching, “Well done Wormtail,” he says, using the nickname endearingly for the first time. “It seems we have much to discuss. After today’s meeting.” Regulus slowly backs away from the door breathing heavily. His back hits the wall, and he slides down to the floor playing back what he just overheard. He hears the men in the room across from him move, making their exit, and he stands and bolts from the hallway to the dining room on the other side of the home.

—

Unopened letters fill the small four person dining table. Sirius picks one up, holds it for a moment and let’s it drop back to the pile.

“I’m sorry he isn’t accepting your letters,” Remus says, standing with his back against kitchen sink, arms crossed.

“It was one thing to not have James with us when I asked you to marry me, but, we just got Reg back, Remus,” Sirius sighs. “And he’s disappearing again. I thought he was changing but he’s just the same old Regulus. Who runs when things get to muddy.”

Sirius opens one of the letters, addressed to RAB. He holds it out in front of him reading it:

‘Proposing to Moony Wednesday night. Want you there. Please? I know our last meeting wasn’t great, but please just come.
S.’

He incinerates it with his wand.

“Maybe he’s just trying to stay away for our safety?” Remus arch’s a brow. “Like last time?”

“He didn’t come,” Sirius looks up at Remus. “He didn’t want to be with us.”

Remus moves closer and sits with Sirius at the table. “We have to keep fighting, Pads. Right now, we don’t have them here. But, someday I’d like to believe we’ll be together again.”

Sirius opens another letter.

‘Please just write back. I need to know you’re ok. I tried to come by the house but you never came.’

He incinerates that one too. He looks up at Remus and says, “Maybe he is just a coward.”

He opens the remaining pile of letters.

“Please reach out.” Burn. “You’ll always be my little brother; I’m here.” Burn. “I know you’re disappointed, but told them not to use me for a reason. It’s best for them.” Burn. “R, Please.” Burn. “Please don’t do this. Don’t run. Don’t leave.” Burn.

Sirius burns the letters until there’s nothing left but a pile of charred ashes.

—

His knuckles are white as he clenches his fists, causing his nails to cut into the skin of his palms. Snape looks at him from his spot across the table eyebrows raised urging him to keep it together. But, Regulus cannot put his walls up. He can’t think straight. The meeting drones in around him and all he can think about is James. The light that burns so brightly inside him and his sparkling magic. He thinks about James and how he’s so close so saving him, but still far.

“Regulus, we spoke briefly about my need for your elf, I will need him this afternoon,” Voldemort says from the head of the table. Lucius, who sits next to him scowls. Regulus stares across the room, and doesn’t answer. Barty nudges him under the table.

“Y-yes,” Regulus stammers. “Of course.” He looks down, and calls, voice raspy, “Kreacher.”

The elf appears and bows to Regulus, and then in turn to Voldemort. Regulus nods Kreacher over to Voldemort, feeling sick. The elf listens briefly to the Dark Lord and apparates to Voldemort’s living quarters to fetch his things for a journey.

The meeting goes on. Regulus goes back to staring at nothing, but thinking about everything. Barty keeps glancing sideways at Regulus, anxiously, waiting for him to snap. Snape tries from across the room to get Regulus to focus. What ultimately brings Regulus out of his stupor is the sound of Peter’s voice.

Before he can control himself, Regulus is out of his seat, pulling Peter by the hair onto the floor. He doesn’t even know what the small excuse for a man was saying, but he doesn’t care. He slams him into the ground, once and then twice. His fist meets bone as it crunches into his eye socket. He brings his fist up, screaming each word before he strikes: “HOW. COULD. YOU. BETRAY. THEM.” Arms wrap around Regulus as he’s pulled off of Peter- Barty’s arms. He whispers into his ear, hushed for only Regulus, “not here.” Snape helps a battered and bloody Peter off of the floor, and briefly makes eye contact with Barty, nods, and turns to the Death Eaters standing behind him, saying “shame he got blood on the rug.” They chuckle and turn to go back to their seats. Barty continues to drag Regulus out of the dining room, while he kicks and squirms to get back to beating Peter senseless. He hears Barty whisper “You need to stop. We can’t fix this unless you stop.” Regulus stills in Barty’s arms as they reach the doorway.

Voldemort turns to Lucius as Barty passes them with Regulus and says, “That boy is weak. Perhaps it is time we rid ourselves of him.” Regulus feels Barty tense, and catches Snape’s fearful glance as he is finally drug out of the room. Regulus doesn’t feel anything.

—

Kreacher is gone for days, and Regulus doesn’t anticipate his return. He feels remorse and guilt for giving up the small being to Voldemort, and sadness at losing one of the few companions he had left. Regulus lurks through Grimmauld like a ghost for the next few days. He tries to keep out of sight as much as possible given the looming threat on his head. He assumes when Voldemort returns that he’ll come for him. Barty thinks he’s losing his mind, but he isn’t the one that’s disposable. So, for now Regulus is a recluse. He hides in either his room or the library, doesn’t come out for meals or meetings. He stays away from the other Death Eaters, even Snape, lest they get an idea and dispose of him for their Dark Lord as a nice little treat. Regulus continues his research and tries to find a way to track his elf. Maybe if he can find where he’d gone with Voldemort he can find the Horcrux and destroy it. At least he can do something before he’s ultimately killed. He’s not afraid to die; he’s almost ready for it. But, he needs to save James first.

It comes as a great surprise to Regulus when a few short days after Voldemort takes his elf that the crack of apparition sounds and Kreacher lands on top of Regulus’ bed in the early morning light with a thud.

“Master Regulus asked Kreacher to report back to him, and I returned just as Master asked.” Kreacher squeaks, bowing low and toppling over forwards to the ground. He is weak and clearly wounded. Regulus rushes to the elf’s side, the small creature is bleeding and shaking on the carpet before him.

“Kreacher, where did he take you? What did he do? What’s happened?”

“Kreacher, is fine, Master Regulus,” the elf says, looking up weakly at Regulus. Regulus kneels next to him holding the elf’s head in his lap. He casts a healing spell on the bleeding wounds in Kreacher’s hands, and conjures a glass of water. The elf’s eyes grow wide and he shakes his head and hands frantically refusing the glass. “Master, no, no drink. The Dark Lord took me to a place with much to drink and I cannot.”

“What do you mean, drink, Kreacher?” Regulus listens in horror as Kreacher recounts his journey to a cliffside cave to hide a most sacred object (a locket). The elf tells of his own blood sacrifice, the perilous journey across the cavernous lake, and finally drinking a potion that made him relive the most horrible of memories while he drank.

“So, the Dark Lord hid the locket in the basin, filled it back up, and then he just … left you there?” Regulus asks, unbelieving. “To die?”

“Yes, but Master Regulus wanted Kreacher to report to him everything the Dark Lord was up to, so that is what Kreacher did. For Master Regulus.”

“What did the locket look like?” Regulus asks grabbing parchment and a quill, and scribbling a note.

“It was gold and green, with a large silver S in the front.”

“S?” Regulus questions. “For … Slytherin. That makes sense.” He folds the parchment and places it in his pocket. He looks at Kreacher and then casts “Expecto Patronum.” The glowing form of a stag errupts from his wand and he stares into its silvery eyes. He pats it’s head and says, “Snape, I’ve found it. It’s in a cave, I’m close and this will be over soon. Don’t try to follow me. I just need you to know I’m trying and I’ll end this.” The stag runs off to find it’s mark and Regulus stares after it for a moment. He turns to the elf.

“Kreacher, can you show me how to get to the cave?”