28th July 1979
Dorcas' flat, 02:36
Dorcas was startled awake by a pounding on her door that cracked through the silence of the night. Her neighbours were definitely going to shout at her in the morning. Instinctively, she grabbed her wand from its stand on her bedside table and got up to answer the door.
Warily, Dorcas peered through the peephole in her front door, only to be rewarded with an unrecognisable figure. She briefly cursed Dumbledore for providing such a shitty flat to be her safe house.
"Who is it?" She asked the figure, while it was entirely possible the person could lie, she reckoned she had to take what she could get.
"Dorcas, I'm not here to cause trouble, okay?"
Oh.
The figure in the peephole became recognisable as Dorcas matched the whining voice to the lanky outline of a man.
Barty Crouch Junior stood outside her door.
Dorcas thought out her response with caution, "I'm not opening this door for you, Barty,"
"Please, just tell me if you've seen him," His voice shook and Dorcas knew he was crying. Memories of long talks by the fireplace in the common room were pushed to the forefront of her mind, and she swallowed down the grief she still felt for the boy he once was.
"Seen who, Crouch?" Dorcas spat the name as if it were poison on her tongue.
Barty let out a shaky sigh, seemingly against his will, and responded, "Regulus. Have you spoken to Regulus at all this past month?"
Dorcas' blood ran cold.
Regulus, she thought, was the one she had expected least. Barty had always done the complete opposite of what his father wanted and Evan had always been just a little closer to Mulciber's lot than the others, but Regulus? Regulus was a boy with so much potential, a boy who wrote and painted and smiled, a boy who had pureblood ideologies drilled into him since birth, yet still managed to befriend half-bloods and muggle-borns. For a while, Dorcas thought of Regulus as if he were her own little brother. He joined the Death-Eaters regardless.
And, if Barty's desperation was anything to go by, something bad had happened to him.
"No, I haven't seen him,"
Barty sobbed. It was loud and full of anguish. The boy outside of Dorcas' door wept like a hurt child, and she almost let him in. She heard his body slide down the door and crumple to the floor. She imagined him, collapsed into himself on the cold ground on the other side of the door, head in his hands and heart shattered, tears flowing with no intention of stopping.
Silently, Dorcas sat with her back to the door. Listening to the meek whimpers and sniffles of a broken man. He only turned 18 last month. She had to stop seeing him as the charming boy she knew and loved in Hogwarts. It had been two years, and now he was a man with evil inked into his forearm.
Dorcas couldn't remember if she was thinking about Barty or Regulus at that point.
---
26th December 1979
Mckinnon house, 18:25
Only a few of them came for drinks at Marlene's, but it was the majority of people Dorcas wanted to be with. She and Marlene shared a seat too small for them as Sirius and James fought over who could sit in the other seat and, from the couch, Remus and Lily laughed at them, buzzing from the sweet relief of alcohol. It was a shame Peter and Mary were busy: Peter was always unavailable, and Mary had been distant since her decision not to join The Order. Still, Dorcas couldn't help but enjoy the company of the small group she was surrounded by.
She set down the hazardous concoction that Marlene had claimed was a "cocktail" and reached for the folded newspaper Marlene's uncle had read earlier in the day. Marlene refused to read any news throughout the holiday season lest it ruin her festive mood.
And perhaps she had the right idea.
A bold headline on the first page stuck out to Dorcas like a sore thumb:
THE LAST HEIR TO THE ANCIENT AND NOBLE HOUSE OF BLACK, REGULUS BLACK, PRESUMED DEAD AT EIGHTEEN.
It was as if all the alcohol had left her body, all the haze and joy of the evening taken by one sentence. Just then did she recall the late night visit from Barty, she knew then that something had happened, but never did she think...
The others noticed the shift in atmosphere as Dorcas read the headline over and over and over-
"Sirius," Marlene almost whispered, her voice so solemn and apologetic. Dorcas turned her head to find Marlene reading the article over her shoulder and the rest awaiting an explanation for the sudden melancholy mood. Her hand shook involuntarily and she leaned over to pass the papers.
"I'm so sorry," Her voice was low and broken.
Sirius wailed more than Barty had.
Dorcas thought he might cry forever.
The sobs were quickly muffled by Remus' jumper as he consoled him. Soon, James had his arms around them too, Marlene following suit while Dorcas and Lily sat by their sides.
Dorcas observed the group, of course, Sirius was hysteric, but she also noticed the silent tears from James, the torment on Remus' face, and the disappointment in Lily's eyes as she read the article.
None of them had expected Regulus' death.
Dorcas felt sick with guilt.
'Death-Eater Defect’, they called him. The Daily Prophet was infamous for twisting truths and revealing secrets, but this was real. The word 'Defect' burned itself into Dorcas' mind, a permanent reminder that Regulus may not have been so evil after all. Maybe he died that very same smiling boy that Dorcas remembered, maybe he didn't have a choice, maybe it was Dorcas' fault. She thought back to every time Regulus could have been crying for help: every time he spoke about his family, the week after Sirius ran away, the day he stopped sneaking to the Astronomy Tower at night, his entire sixth year as he distanced himself from every one of his friends.
The night Dorcas found out about the Dark Mark. She remembered shouting at him, he let her. She remembered his apologies, she ignored them. She remembered their last conversation.
---
15th April 1977
Regulus' dorm, 19:47
"I need you to know that I’m sorry..." he told her again.
Dorcas was seething. Firey red clouded her vision and would not be clearing any time soon.
"I know you're fucking sorry! You're a sorry excuse of a friend! A pathetic sheep in a pack of wolves. What would mummy say if she knew you hung around dirty half-bloods like me?" She grit her teeth and hissed the words like a wild animal fending off a predator.
"It's not a choice. I didn't want this," Regulus tried to explain, his voice hollow and helpless.
Dorcas fought him anyway, "Fuck you! It is a choice, you can choose to be a good fucking person Regulus! Your brother did anyway!"
Regulus clenched his jaw and shut his eyes. He didn't respond, and Dorcas didn't let him.
She stormed out and never spoke to him afterwards. Dorcas made a promise to herself that night to never let someone so close betray her again.
If only she heard his cries that night.
Or the night after that.
Or perhaps in the cave, where he saw her one last time, a pain-induced hallucination, just moments before his death.