Chapter 16
Oliver is nothing but supportive for Regulus when it comes to his feelings for Barty (but not with the fact that Regulus refuses to tell Oliver who his mysterious crush is (smh)) so when Regulus pulls Barty off to the side after quidditch practice, Oliver gives his best friend a double thumbs up. Barty looks confused as he’s dragged off immediately after walking up to the team.
“What’s that ‘bout?” Toby asks from behind Oliver, leaning against Isla, a bit out of breath.
Oliver just shrugs and turns, swerving around his quidditch friends as and runs up to Dorcas, almost bowling her over when he jumps on her. She shouts in protest but catches her friend. She spins them around to balance out Oliver’s momentum. “Hey- calm down, Olive,” she laughs. She sets Oliver down and Oliver grins at her. He imagines he’s quite the sight; his hair plastered to his forehead, his chest rising and falling in quick succession, his pupils blown wide and his hair windswept. “What’s got you so excited?”
“Can’t I just be excited to see my best friend?”
“Regulus is your best friend,” Evan says offhandedly. He’s looking over Oliver’s shoulder at where he assumes Regulus has pulled Barty. “What’s going on with them?”
Oliver shrugs for the second time and rocks back and forth on his feet. “Guys, I am so excited for the Slytherin vs Gryffindor match.”
Pandora, who was standing next to Evan and holding his hands, winces. Oh well that’s not good. Oliver gives her a look but she shakes her head. She won’t tell him what she knows about the events that are bound to unfold during the quidditch match.
“You mean the match that’s next year?” Dorcas asks, arms now folded in front of her.
Oliver nods vigorously. It’s just easier than thinking about the upcoming Christmas Holidays and how he won’t be going home. He’s stopped answering his parents' letters all together. (He still reads them to make sure it isn’t anything important but it’s never anything more than mundane updates and pleads for Oliver to talk with his brother and to answer the letters. Apparently, the only way Euphemia and Fleamont know he’s even alive is because James sends him as much information about his brother that he can.)
Barty doesn’t seem all that upset about his break up with Regulus. When they walk back over to the others, Barty’s over exaggerating his heartbreak while Regulus is rolling his eyes. Oliver makes a sympathetic noise and dramatically pulls Barty into his arms to return his dramatics. Regulus grumbles about drama queens as he makes his way over to the changing rooms now that the other quidditch members have finished, Toby whispering something to him as he and Isla follow. Barty wails as Oliver shushes him, assuring him that everything will be okay.
Evan, Dorcas and Pandora eventually get updated and Evan is suspiciously joyful... Huh. Weird. Anyway, not much changes with the dynamics. Regulus and Barty no longer kiss. That’s basically it. Regulus has been... trying with physical touch but recently he’s been warding it off more than he had before. No one faults him for it though it does make Oliver curious.
The Christmas Holidays arrive. Oliver says goodbye to all of his friends as they board the train. Barty gives Oliver an extra tight hug because he feels bad for leaving. Typically it’s Barty and Oliver against the world (against the boredom) during Christmas but this year, Barty’s mother wants him home. So he goes and Oliver doesn’t fault him for it.
However, when he’s sitting in his empty dorm, it’s hard not to let his thoughts wander to how much his life has changed since he started at Hogwarts. He wondered what his life would be like if he had gotten Gryffindor. He imagined he wouldn’t have the same friends, though you never know with Pandora... Still, he wouldn’t have been able to wear Regulus down like has without being in the same dorm. (Oliver’s still kind of unsure how he got Regulus to be his friend at all.)
It was weird to think about. It was weird to think of how his relationship with his brother wouldn’t have ended so... violently? Upsetting? Scaring? Sometimes, more often than he would like to admit, Oliver thinks about his brother and how much he absolutely misses James Potter. Sure, they see each other sometimes but it’s different. It’s all... different. They can’t be like they could when they were younger. Oliver hated it.
In the sanctity of his own mind, Oliver let himself miss his brother, let him mourn what they could’ve had if-
If what? What did Oliver want to change? He wanted to change Regulus’ family. He wanted to get that boy out of that house. He wanted Regulus to live with him, be his brother. He wanted Sirius to take Regulus with him when he went to the Potters. He wanted to be enough for Regulus to want to go with Sirius.
“Oh, dear.” Poppy sounds disappointed. Oliver smiles sheepishly as he limps into the hospital wing. As always, Oliver makes his way over to the bed closest to Poppy’s office. With careful hands, Poppy treats Oliver’s wounds, closing scrapes and reducing the swelling around his ankle.
Over the past four years, Oliver has noticed that he has grown to admire Poppy quite a bit, so much so that... Well, to put it plainly, she has become like Oliver’s second mother. (Second because, even with everything, Euphemia is still his mother.)
“Who was it this time?” Poppy asks as she tucks her wand away and walks off to go make some tea for her only occupant. Oliver turns on his bed, his legs crossing under him. He fiddles with one of his rings, the one of his right index finger.
“Doesn’t matter,” Oliver mumbles. Poppy hums, not believing him in the slightest. She knew it meant a great deal to Oliver to have so many people hate him and abuse him.
“Oliver,” Poppy starts, turning and handing a mug to Oliver. He takes it from her, pulling it close to his chest. (He doesn’t like teacups or saucers so she doesn’t bother with them anymore.) Poppy sits down at the chair resting next to Oliver’s bed and looks at him, a fond look on her face though it is easy to tell she’s upset. “I have known you for nearly five years now. Talk to me.”
A frown pulls at Oliver’s lips. “I don’t know.” And he doesn’t. Truthfully, Oliver doesn’t know who it was. He didn't recognise the person who had fired spells at him and even if he was brought around every person currently in the castle, he wouldn’t point them out, even if he did recognise them.
Poppy knows he’s telling the truth and she knows he isn’t going to try to find them. She reaches over, ruffles his hair and then stands, saying he can leave- or, he can stay if he wishes. He stays. He sits on his bed and reads his book, updating Madam Pomfrey whenever something important or shocking happens.
Pomfrey has a small smile on her face as she works, listening to everything Oliver says and listening to the low hum of the stereo when he isn’t rambling. She is glad that despite whatever went on with his family, Oliver refuses to lose his spark. Sure, it doesn’t get shown as often anymore but it is brighter when it does. Oliver can be brighter than the sun when he wants to be.
And if later that night, Poppy sees a fox curled up in Oliver’s bed, the boy nowhere to be seen, she pays it no mind, aside from stroking its head when it whines in its sleep to sooth the boy she loves as her own.
“REGULUS!” Oliver screams when he sees his best friend exit the train. Regulus barely has time to brace himself before Oliver’s tackling him in a hug. Regulus huffs but hugs back, burying his head into Oliver’s shoulder.
“You’re an idiot,” Regulus states.
Oliver hums and since Regulus isn’t letting go, neither does he. “Yes yes, I am very much aware.” He gives his best friend a squeeze. “I missed you.”
Regulus scoffs. “I can tell.” His fingers spasms on Oliver’s shoulder and Oliver lets him pull back, respecting the signal. Up close, Oliver can see how much paler Regulus looks and how some patches of his skin shine with a concealment charm. Oliver frowns, his eyes meeting Regulus’ in a silent question. Regulus shakes his head, the silent I don’t want to talk about it, being understood by Oliver.
Oliver nods. “Okay.” He turns and sees the rest of their friends looking at them. He grins. “Hi!”
Barty’s previous offended look dissipates and he smiles fondly at his golden retriever best friend. “Hey. You have fun here by yourself?”
Oliver pouts comically. “No. It was horrible, ese. Absolutely torture."
Barty’s eyebrows fly to his hairline. “Ese? The fuck does that mean?”
Oliver grins as he takes Regulus’ hand, pulling him (their friends following behind the two of them with Oliver looking at Barty over his shoulder) over to the carriages. “It’s Spanish. I have decided to speak more of my own language and you all just have to deal with it.”
“Je suis content pour toi,” Regulus says, voice smooth and familiar as he speaks his own native tongue. It causes Oliver to grin. He knows some French so he can understand what Regulus was saying.
“Tu m'aimes tellement, n'est-ce pas?” Oliver teases.
Regulus raises his eyebrows, the colour starting to come back to his complexion. Good. He takes Oliver’s hand and lets the boy help him into the carriage. “You can speak French?”
Oliver shrugs. “A little bit. Phrases here and there.”
Regulus hums. The others pile into the carriage, having their own conversations. By the look of annoyance on Dorcas' face, someone mentioned Marlene Mckinnon or Barty opened his mouth. “¿Qué tan bien puedes hablar español?”
“Mamá y papá... ah... El español es mi primera lengua, así que a veces lo hablo mejor que el inglés. Se pone peor cuando estoy abrumado. Mi cerebro como que se reinicia y mi cerebro parece funcionar solo en español.” They are still his parents. Oliver knows that, Regulus knows that, and still... It’s still hard and Oliver doesn’t know if Regulus wants him to believe they aren’t his family. They haven’t particularly felt like it in a long time.
Regulus gives Oliver’s hand a squeeze, a gesture picked up from their nights spent in each other’s beds; a gesture no one else would ever notice or understand. “Hablo español bastante bien. Mi madre nos enseñó muchos idiomas diferentes cuando éramos pequeños. El español es uno de mis favoritos, junto con el romaní.”
Oliver blinks. “¿Sabes hablar romaní? Eso es tan genial. ¿Hablar algo por mí?”
Regulus hums. He looks off in thought for a moment before the corner of his mouth quirks up in a slight sly smile and Oliver knows that whatever Regulus is about to say is some kind of curse or slur. “Mange si drago tiro phral.”
“Yeah, no idea what you just said,” Oliver admits. Regulus just shrugs and Oliver bets he will never know what was just admitted to him.
During the feast, Dumbledore calls on Madam Pomfrey who announces that she will be holding a club of sorts for those who wish to learn more about healing. It is open for fifth years and above if they wish to join. So, of course, Oliver joins.
The feast ends and blah blah blah. The first meeting of the club happens three weeks after classes start and Oliver’s the first one to arrive at the hospital wing (he was already in there for his own injuries. A dislocated shoulder, this time. It’s the first time that’s happened). Remus and Lily are close seconds to arrive though. Oliver smiles at them from where he’s helping Poppy set up.
“Ollie!” Lily says as she runs over and pulls the boy into a hug. Oliver laughs and hugs back. Lily was just shorter than him now. He had grown quite a bit over the years. He suspects he’ll grow even more over the summer holidays. It would be fucking hilarious if he got taller than James. James had always teased that he’d always be taller, even when they were adults. Oliver... misses his brother smiles big at Remus and Lily.
“It’s so good to see you guys,” Oliver says. He pulls out of the hug with Lily to hug Remus.
“How are you doing with studying for your OWLs?” Lily asks.
Oliver winces because um. Yeah, he hasn’t thought much about his OWLs. He’s pretty sure he’ll do fine with them anyway. He clears his throat. “So, how was your Christmas?”
Remus makes an amused noise but doesn’t ask more on OWLs. “Oh god, don’t even get me started.”
Oliver pulls back from the hug just enough to look at Remus whilst tilting his head. “What happened?”
Lily snorts from somewhere behind Oliver (probably helping Poppy). “He ditched his entourage.”
Oliver pulls all the way from the hug and raises his eyebrows. “What?”
Remus rolls his eyes. He takes his bag from his shoulder and leans it against the side of the bed he usually occupies (the one across from Oliver). “I spent the Christmas Holidays with Grant instead of at the Potter’s like I usually do and, well, let’s just say they weren’t the happiest of people.”
Oliver snorts. “They pack hissy fits?”
“Sirius did,” Lily says. Oliver turns to see that she is, in fact, helping Poppy set up. She’s got a tray in her arms filled with empty potion bottles. She pauses mid step to look at Oliver and Remus. (Remus must’ve had a bad full recently. He’s rubbing the muscle in his shoulder that always bugs him whenever he has a bad full.) “Of course, I then had to hear about it because I stayed with Mary for the break. God, Sirius whines so much.”
“Speaking of Sirius and Mary...” Remus trails off and Oliver raises an eyebrow at the way he grins. “They broke up.”
Oliver gasps dramatically, a hand going to his heart. “What? The happy, definitely not toxic couple that’s breakup I’ve been betting on with my friends broke up?” He gasps again. “The horror. I no longer believe in love!”
Remus snorts while Lily rolls his eyes. Poppy looks vaguely amused when she catches Oliver’s eye. He smiles at her and she smiles back, her eyes turning fond. After that, people start to arrive. All together there are ten people, eleven including Oliver. The club/class consists of Oliver PotterSol, Remus Lupin, Lily Evans, Regulus Black (who definitely didn’t get dragged into it), Pandora Rosier, Marlene Mckinnon, Will Lyx (Gryffindor seventh year), Harvey Todd (Ravenclaw fifth year), London Wilson (Hufflepuff sixth year), Jason Wilson (London’s twin brother, Hufflepuff sixth year) and Charlie Scorn (Ravenclaw seventh year).
Everyone in the class got along relatively well, aside from Marlene and the Slytherins. Dorcas was still at odds with her so Regulus, Oliver and Pandora didn’t acknowledge her. Early on, Oliver had left Remus and Lily in favour of sitting with Pandora and Regulus so they could sit with Mckinnon.
Also, everyone else in the school was intimated by Regulus Black and his friends at best, terrified at worst.
Oliver frowns as he looks down at his hands. They’re... shakier than usual. They’re covered by his quidditch gloves, but he still feels cold. It was the coldest weather Oliver had ever been out in. He had always felt the cold more than anyone else he knew, including James who would wear shorts in the middle of winter, whilst in an active snowstorm if Effie let him.
A pressure falls onto his shoulder and Oliver gasps, spinning to the side to find Isla giving him a worried look. “You alright, Oliver?” she asks.
Oliver tries an assuring smile. It doesn’t quite convince her. “Yeah, Isla. I’m fine.”
Isla’s eyebrows knit together. Her blonde hair falls in strands from the bun it’s in. Her blue eyes are sparking with worry, with concern because she does care about Oliver. “You gonna be good to play?”
Oliver nods. “Yeah. Yeah, let’s go.”
So they did. Even though Isla was still worried and Regulus noticed Oliver’s own internal concern for what was happening, they went out on the field and they played. Oliver roughly knew the people on the Gryffindor Quidditch Team. He knew their star chaser of course, him being Oliver’s brother.
(Can he still be called Oliver’s brother? Certainly not in front of other people but in his mind... Oliver isn’t even a Potter anymore but subconsciously he is still eleven years old, eyes wide with hope, smile bright all the time, some new friends who he adores, along with a brother who loves him and would do anything for him. However, in the real world, Oliver doesn’t even know how to say hello to James anymore. Doesn’t know if he could.)
Mckinnon is one of their beaters. Sirius had been a beater too but he had been kicked from the team when he was a dick to Remus, if Oliver remembers correctly.
The match starts. Slytherin starts with the quaffle and Oliver scores the first points for his house. And then the next and the next and the next. Gryffindor gets possession of the quaffle once and it’s promptly taken back by Toby who passes it to Oliver who then gets it in the goal. It’s hard to follow the match, even when Oliver’s in the sky. He feels cold. Unusually so. He thinks it’s the first time he’s ever been out in weather this cold. It also doesn’t help that as Oliver’s gotten older, the cold has made his heart slow and his muscles tense.
Slowly, Oliver begins to miss. He can’t seem to see straight, the quaffle zooming past the posts or the Gryffindor keeper defending it. Gryffindor’s previous winces and boos turn to screams of encouragement for their team. Oliver doesn’t know what’s happening. He can barely move his limbs anymore. Toby checks on him while neither of them are needed and Oliver assures him he’s alright, just a bit cold.
Oliver can tell Toby wants to press but they're needed again so he lets it go and takes control of the quaffle when it’s thrown to him. Oliver takes a couple more moments to right himself, check his breathing and his heart. His heart is slower than usual but that usually happens when it gets too cold. Not even flying around on a broom is helping with his temperature which is strange but he brushes it off.
Oliver manages to get back in the game. However, after dropping the quaffle for the third time (and having Adrian Pucey (one of the chasers), Toby or a chaser from Gryffindor's team catch it in his place), Regulus flies over from where he was scouting for the snitch.
“You’re not alright,” is the first thing Regulus says. Oliver huffs, his breath materialising in front of him in plums of condensation.
“I’m f-fine,” Oliver says, scowling at himself when his voice wavers and he stutters.
Regulus frowns. “You’re freezing.”
Oliver shakes his head. “I’m fine.”
“You’re not,” Regulus insists.
Oliver opens his mouth to say that he is, in fact, fine, but he’s cut off when the announcer (who Oliver can’t remember the name of) calls something out. “Gryffindor seeker has caught sight of the snitch!”
Regulus’ eyes flick over but they go back to Oliver who smiles as best he can. “Go, quickly. I’ll be fine.” So, Regulus does. He goes and he races off after the snitch. Pucey and Toby stop passing to Oliver. James looks concerned every time his eyes flick to his brother, they have been since the beginning of the match. It somehow makes Oliver feel not so cold.
Or maybe that’s the numbness. Perhaps because as soon as his eyes find his brother’s, those eyes that are so warm and so different from his own, he’s slipping from his broom, his hands and thighs not able to hold himself up anymore. He falls. He hears the announcer call out that someone caught the snitch but he doesn’t hear which team. He can hear his own name being yelled out as he plummets towards the ground. His heart is beating so shallowly that it feels like it isn’t beating at all but that can’t be, can it? Oliver’s alive. Well, at least he thinks so.
He hits something, the air punching from his lungs, but it’s too soft to be the ground. There are arms securing around him, pulling him into something warm and Oliver tries his hardest to open his eyes. When had they closed anyway? He looks up and sees his brother’s face full of concern. His mouth is moving. He’s saying something that Oliver can’t quite hear.
That’s enough. Seeing his brother, being in his arms is enough for Oliver. He closes his eyes again just as he feels James land on the grass, half expecting to never open them again.