Lion Star
Regulus
Merlin knew he was angry.
The rest of the castle probably did too.
Wrath coursed through his bloodstream, dragging its claws into his brain and gripping hold. He didn’t feel like a person, more like the spirit of violence, fuelled by fury.
Regulus was livid.
His mind had narrowed the events down to a point, sharpened and ready to stab whoever drove his brother to the point of death. Currently he was curled up, crying in the Slytherin dorms half-dressed and most likely drunk.
Even here, in the safe walls of Hogwarts: Mother’s fear still reached. Not a sound escaped his lips other than the occasional choked breath: it was a skill they learned.
“Reggie I’m- ‘m- I’m sorry…” the figure from the bed started, only to dive back under the cover and give in to the silent sobs wracking his soul.
“Shh Siri. You’re okay.”
The snuffles were the loudest thing in the room apart from his own racing heartbeat. There were two options here. Comfort Sirius or go after the reasons he was crying in the first place. He said reasons- he meant people.
Through Sirius' choked recounts and half-strung stories, a vague image of what happened- and what he would do in to resolve had formed, puzzle pieces missing but still understandable as a picture. Severus Snape, Remus Lupin, James Potter and Peter Pettigrew were the culprits named, and thus who he would go after.
Regulus had always been a practical person. Cut the head off the snake and the body will wither and die. It was better to leave his brother crying and never have to deal with it again- could the remnants of his empathy live with that?
He could.
Empathy would simply have to wait.
Merlin did Sirius sob over Lupin.
Truly, Regulus was shocked. He expected the ties between him and his newfound brother to be stronger than those forged in ‘love’, but then again his brother was always a romantic: it would take hours to count the sheer amount of times he had been cursed to ribbons of flesh by Mother for his outspoken stance of attachment to the world.
Perhaps that was why he was so horrified at the attempt. How a mistake- albeit a careless, throwaway spiral of a mistake- lead to the boy who clung onto life with his nails finally letting go, to the extent of pushing himself off.
Falling.
“I promise it wasn’t my fault” he would plead to no-one, while other times it was “It’s all my fault, forgive me PLEASE MOONY-“
Either way, Regulus knew he was witnessing the slow death of his brother’s mind under his own watch. That wasn’t going to happen- despite it all, everything he had done, he'd always be Sirius. Though he wouldn’t admit it openly (he’d rather swear at Mother) Regulus still loved him.
Outside the castle, rain splattered from the sky, turning the ground to a sea of mud, to the disgust of every other Slytherin who trudged into the common room complaining, only to be turned away by Regulus’ piercing slate gaze when they opened their mouths to comment on the slump of Sirius.
Stew bowls were filled and kept to the side of his brother, shivering in the relative chill of the dorms.
“Tu as besoin de manger, Sirius. Non- listen.”
A beat.
“I will deal with Lupin and Potter. You,” here he paused and took Sirius in: matted hair, accidentally rather than intentionally crumpled uniform, lifeless dead eyes resting above dark half-moons which marred his usually bright face.
God was he a drama king. All this over a fallout?
“You will not be self destructing. Not again. Not under my watch.”
Another silence, broken this time by the first coherent sentence Sirius had uttered in three hours.
“Don’t hurt him, not more than I already have- please Reggie.”
“Merlin’s sake. What possible reason could you conjure up-" Sliding a hand down his face in frustration, he was interrupted by a voice hoarse with disuse.
“It’s a full moon tomorrow-“ he blurted out before clasping his hands over his mouth, eyes wide in horror at his words.
With that plea, the door of the Slytherin dorms closed with the sight of Sirius draped over a sofa like an overgrown housecat.
Dramatic.
--
Where would you find slimy, unwashed filth like Severus? It sounded like the setup to a joke, the punchline would perchance be when Regulus broke his funny bone into splinters.
While Sirius would start crying if he hurt Lupin, not a word he uttered over the vermin Regulus was forced to share a House with- so how reprehensible could he candidly be if his wand slipped and turned the piece of toad-slime into a pile of nothing on the floor? Severus was the best at Potions, he’d heard- if he was as good as said, he should easily be able to create a cure for the numerous things Regulus would gladly inflict upon him.
Regretfully, images were an important thing to maintain, and a call to Mother- Wallburga- Mother for torture of a fellow Slytherin would not end in his skin or mind intact. So: he'd have to rely on his image- and of course his own skill.
The dungeons. Oozing rooms of potions and addicts- and regretfully the closest place where Severus could possibly be. Stepping inside, he had to suppress his own sick- he truly hated this part of Hogwarts.
Guess it came with perks.
Seeing none other than the cockroach he had been searching for this quickly was not something he expected; yet it was certainly welcomed.
Restraining his lips from curling in disgust was difficult, how could it be anything else when the mere sight of him after hearing about his treatment of Sirius fueled him with such white-hot fury?
“Severus Snape. What exactly are you doing lurking around here like some kind of mould that refuses to be scrubbed away?”
After all: years of dinner parties and witnessing blood-soaked brutality only to stay quiet had served as training.
Civility he knew well, it had practically been beaten into him. Often it was his only reliable consort.
“What business is it to you?? Brother of a blood-traitor.” the sharp retort returned, though it carried no weight. How could it?
“Careful what you say- your words carry no weight, being a half-blood yourself.”
Severus rolled his eyes, attempting to claim the moral higher ground. Regulus was bored of antics- he had put up with enough of those around fifteen minutes ago.
“Petrificus Totalus.”
An ugly sight, Snape’s eyes nearly popping out of his skull as he lay immobilised, forehead under the sole of Regulus’ shoe. For a fleeting moment, he imagined the spike of a heeled shoe and how it would pierce the flesh beneath- no.
If only someone could tell his brain to shut it.
Compose. Breathe.
Titling his head slightly to the side, he spoke.
“I’m here to ask you once: what precisely did you do to Sirius Black to make him betray a secret he would have held so dear? A simple explanation will do, I fear- Finite.”
Still on the floor, the mop of greasy hair heaved for breath, before looking up directly at Regulus.
Bad move.
“Fuck you.”
The words weren’t particularly eloquent, fitting for the action that accompanied them.
Regulus nearly embraced the idea of smashing his face into his shoes and scrubbing the spit off, before deciding against. Violence was only ever necessary to a certain degree.
Raising an eyebrow, he pressed the tip of his wand lightly to Snape’s skin.
“I’ll ask you again. Tell me exactly what you did one full moon ago.”
“And why would I ever bother telling you? Leave me be.”
Revulsion welled up in him so quickly he wondered if it was faster than the speed of the noise reaching his ears.
Severus stood, attempting to retrieve his belongings and leave- not happening until he got a clear answer.
“Incendio.”
Against the wall of the other side of the room, a foot of parchment- seemingly an essay- burst into flame so strong the heat could be felt from where he stood.
Snape turned sharply towards him, outrage mingling with horror and a satisfactory amount of fear across his hideous features.
“How- how dare you?! Aguamenti!!” a yell came, as the fire was doused, alongside other schoolwork.
“Ideally you’d show courtesy to those younger than you, Severus.” Sardonic amusement rose in his voice- Regulus didn’t bother tamping it down, let him hear the extent of his apathy, why shouldn’t he?
“Then again," he leaned in mockingly, "ideally someone younger than you wouldn’t be able to curse you to high hell.” he stepped forward slowly at this, cornering the boy to the wall.
“Reputedly, you're quite good at potions- don’t suppose you know one to cure death, do you? Or severe burns?
For your sake I hope you do.”
His voice was low.
"Flattery. How the aristocratic have fallen-"
No words followed that initial barb- they had been cut off by hands around his throat, shoving him against the wall. "Get on with it."
“Fine- fine. Only because you seem insistent on pestering me like the insolent wretch you are." Massaging his throat, Snape flicked his spindly, stained fingers at Regulus, a clear sign of 'get back', he began his admittance. "I mixed Veritaserum in his pumpkin juice at dinner, then followed him, Potter, Lupin and Pettigrew out after-hours."
The sheer lack of regret shown anywhere on his face caused something stirring in his stomach, as Snape attempted to clean the dirt from under his nails, while describing how he had asked him a question, and Sirius blurted out the deepest secret he had kept freely into the night air, how Potter had ran to stop him but it was already over. He'd seen that hideous beast transform.
"Any questions?" asked the fifth-year disinterestedly.
It was sickening.
"You disgust me."
Dark footsteps echoed across the floor, the exit was there and all Regulus had to do was walk out and no harm would be done.
That was before two small, snippy words cut through the air.
"Deserved it."
Next thing he knew, his knuckles ached slightly and had blood spatters, while crimson slowly leaked from the nose of an outraged roach. His eyes were wide with horror, tears slowly building and starting to form, rolling down his sallow face as Regulus' lips curled in repugnance. He drew his hand back, striding across the cold floor to the way out.
As Regulus made to leave, he paused in his tracks. Cutting every loose thread off was imperative to success.
“Oh and should any retelling escape this room?
There are far worse things than a simple jab.” the curt parting blow was delivered, as he walked out of the door to his next order of action- finding Remus Lupin and his associates, and… revealing the error of their ways. Their mistreatment of who they swore to protect.
Priorities had changed- soap or other handwash being top of the list now- but the three imbeciles who cast out 'their own' were next.
They
would
repent.