Whispers
Narcissa finds him in the courtyard. Regulus is perched on a stone bench, bent over to scribble his Charms Essay. It’s a miserable Christmas, with no snow to speak of but rainy enough to keep everyone inside anyway. Regulus has taken to resisting that notion- choosing to shiver in the garden until the rain starts coming down. Even then, sometimes he takes a minute to stand under the downfall, letting the drops chill him to his core.
Now, though, the sky stays dry, even if it’s a ugly-grey sort of dry. Narcissa picks up his parchment, kicking his leg to the ground and taking a seat in its place. She hands him a small package, wrapped in dark blue cloth.
“Happy Christmas.”
He takes it slowly, glancing up at her. “Still got a few days, cousin.”
She shrugs. “Thought it’d be best to open one without any eyes.”
“Hm.” Regulus sets it down slowly in his lap. “Thank you.”
She catches his arm, pulling it towards her and lifting his sleeve slowly. Regulus stares up at the sky as she scans the Mark, turning his wrist left and right. “That healed nicely.”
“It’s just a tattoo.”
Narcissa shrugs, sleek blonde hair falling over her shoulder. “Sometimes certain bodies reject the process.” She holds his forearm up, running her fingers over the skin. He shivers despite himself. “Did the Dark Lord tell you about why he chose this particular spot?”
Regulus leans back against the stone wall, watching her trace the curve of the snake on his arm. “No.”
“You can’t charm it off. There’s no spell that can undo what’s been done.” She sighs, raising her arm and holding it next to his. “But this, this placement- this is so if you took more physical, desperate measures, there’d still be no way out.”
“Oh,” Regulus says softly.
“There are some key arteries and veins here,” Narcissa continues, running a finger over the inside of his wrist. “The antebrachial vein, for one, and the radial artery. If you were to cut deep enough to get under the mark, you’d bleed out.”
“Has anyone ever tried?”
She gives him a look. “Of course they have.”
“Why have I never heard of it?”
“The Dark Lord is good at burying bodies.”
He pulls his arm away from her grip, rolling his sleeve back down. “Since when do you know so much about anatomy?”
She leans back, smirking. “You think you’re the only one that reads around here?”
“Fair enough.”
They go quiet, Regulus staring at the middle of the courtyard. It’s hard, being here and not remembering his trainings with Bellatirx. He spent so many agonizing hours kneeling on those stones.
“I overheard Walburga talking about a match for you earlier.”
Regulus grimaces. “Does she have one in mind?”
“I’m not sure. I don’t think anyone specific yet.”
“Good. I’ll be able to hold her off then.”
“For how long?”
Regulus shrugs. “She’s tried before. As long as I need to, I suppose.”
Narcissa lets out a little sigh next to him. “Privileged,” she murmurs under her breath. He looks over at her, surprised.
“Did you just call me privileged?”
“Yeah.”
“Wha- how ?”
She gives him a long look, cold and piercing. “Before anything else, you’re the Black Heir. And after that, you're a boy. You think your parents would let you get off this easy if you were born Regina instead of Regulus?”
Admittedly, he hadn’t considered that. “I-”
“Yeah.” Narcissa scrubs a hand over her face. “These aren’t things you’d have to think about, I suppose.”
“You and Lucius-”
She lets out a short, bitter laugh. “Whatever emotions exist in that relationship were forged from convenience, nothing more.”
He thinks for a moment, trying to find a loophole. “Bella’s so close to the Dark Lord. She rose above her station.”
“Because she’s fucking insane.” Narcissa scoffs. “And married. And surely you don’t think her partnership with the Dark Lord is anything close to pure. You have no idea what she had to sacrifice to get where she is.”
Regulus stays quiet, letting that sink in.
“Anyway.” Narcissa lets out a short breath. “Just- use that privilege, I guess. Put off your marriage as long as you can, and when it becomes absolutely necessary, try your best to make sure she isn’t miserable.”
When he looks over, he notices Narcissa’s hand, resting lightly on her stomach. A suspicion scratches at the back of his mind but he shoves it away in favor of lifting the package from his lap. “Can I open this?”
She raises her brows at him and he nods, carefully pulling apart the fabric to reveal a small black velvet box. He lifts the lid slightly and tilts his head. Inside, nestled on a bed of black fabric, is a small gold bracelet. It’s undeniably delicate, each link so small it looks like it’s woven out of thread instead of metal. He lifts it carefully, looking to Narcissa for an explanation. She sighs.
“It’s a family heirloom. I thought you should have it.”
His first thought is that he’d never wear anything that furthered his connection to his family, but the second is: “Gold?”
The Blacks wore silver. It was an unspoken rule.
Narcissa clears her throat. “It was Alphard’s.”
Regulus sucks in a breath. “Oh.”
“I thought it was only fair, since Sirius is getting everything else. I thought you should have something of his.”
“Thank you.” Regulus says softly, picking up the bracelet and studying it carefully. “It’s beautiful.”
She helps clip it around his wrist, hesitating a moment before pulling his sleeve over it. “They’ll- Walburga might recognize it,” she says in lieu of an explanation.
“Right.” He can feel Narcissa’s eyes on him. “What?”
“Nothing.” And then: “That’s a lie. I’m curious what the Dark Lord’s plans for you are. It’s obvious-”
He tips his face towards the sky, not looking at her.
“It’s obvious you’re special.”
The thing inside him rolls over, sending his intestines twisting and wrapping around his stomach. It feels like they’re molding. “Ah.”
“Can you tell me?”
And- it’s not that he can’t, or he’s been forbidden, or anything like that- he just doesn’t have the energy. He shakes his head after a second and she nods, clipped and understanding.
“Fine.” She stands up and hands his essay back, shading her eyes against the non-existent sun and glancing up as she walks out. “Careful. It might rain soon.”
It does, ten minutes later. For once, Regulus just goes inside.
---
“Reg. Get dressed. We’re going out.”
Regulus, hand still on the knob of his bedroom door, just stares. “What the fuck are you doing here?”
“Ev’s downstairs,” Barty shrugs. “We were bored.”
“I can’t just-”
“Look, it’s eight PM on a Saturday. What Black family duties could you possibly have to attend to?”
Regulus narrows his eyes, still a little taken aback by the sight of Barty in his house. “I don’t know, sleeping?”
“Sleeping. You’re going to sleep at eight pm.”
“Where would we go?”
Barty grins. “Muggle London.”
“Muggle?” Regulus asks incredulously.
Barty shrugs, lifting his hands. “Say what you will, but those bastards know how to drink.”
“Barty- I mean- how did you even get in here?”
“Your elf. He likes me.”
“I will be having a word with Kreature.”
Barty grabs his arm and tugs him forward. “Ok. Come on.”
Regulus stumbles into the hallway, turning around and closing his door behind him. He doesn’t trust his family enough to keep it open- the Basilisk fangs beneath his bed would be easy enough to find if someone looked hard enough.
“I need to tell my mother.”
Barty sighs, giving him a look. “How’s that gonna fly?”
Regulus hesitates, then lets out a defeated breath. “Kreature?”
A pop. “Yes, Master?”
“If my Mother asks, tell her I had to… visit a friend. Tell her it was Pandora. Can you do that?”
“Of course, Master.”
“But don’t- only if she asks, alright Kreature?”
“Alright.”
“Thank you.” He dismisses Kreature with a wave and turns back to Barty, rolling his eyes at his expression. “Stop that. Be grateful I’m even entertaining this.”
“It’s Christmas! We all need some fun.”
“Right.”
They meet Evan outside, finding him leaning up against a fence post on the other side of the street, shivering and lighting a cigarette. “Fucking finally. It’s bloody cold out here.”
“Let’s get a move on.”
“How? We can’t apperate-”
Regulus shoves his hands in his coat pockets. “We’re taking the tube.”
Both boys blink at him. “How do you even know-”
Regulus shrugs, turning around and walking away. “Hurry up.”
“Hey!”
The tube is a success, once Regulus convinces Barty and Evan to act fucking normal about it. They’re a little rattled, keeping a death grip on the handles the whole time, but they make it through.
They find their way to a pub, and then to another, before they settle down at one they like and take a booth. Barty leans forward, putting his head in his hands, resting on the table. “I’m so bloody sick of school.”
Evan pats him on the back. “We’re on break, mate.”
“You know what I mean.”
Regulus sighs, leaning into the cushion of the booth and lets the gentle buzz of alcohol relax his system a bit. “One more semester.”
Barty lifts his head just to give him a look. “And then another entire year.”
“-and then we’re done!” Evan intones. “And I wouldn’t worry too much about it. Once the Dark Lord takes power, I doubt he’ll keep Hogwarts open much longer.”
Regulus looks around quickly but Evan just shakes his head. “They’re all muggles. They have no idea what we’re talking about.”
“Fine.”
“Yeah, but I don’t think he’ll close it down forever,” Barty says. “Just restrict who’s let in. We’ll still need a place to educate young witches and wizards.”
“Maybe Slytherin’s dream will be realized.” Evan agrees, taking another sip of his drink.
Regulus looks up sharply at that. Saskia talked so much about her Master he feels like he knows him personally by now. Besides, he’s read his journals. “Yeah, but that would be past what Slytherin wanted. He just didn’t want any muggle-borns. Half-bloods were fine.”
Barty wrinkles his nose. “Really? How do you know?”
Regulus shrugs. “It’s in Hogwarts, a History.” It wasn’t, actually, but he knew Barty well enough to know he wouldn’t second guess that.
“If you say so.” Barty sighs and stands up, sidling past Evan to get out of the booth. “I’m getting us more.” He grabs the empty glasses and heads to the bar.
Evan watches him go before turning back to Regulus, talking quickly. “He seems like himself, doesn’t he?”
“Wha- Barty?” Regulus blinks. “Yes?”
“Right. Good.” Evan nods to himself.
Regulus stares at him. “Did something happen?”
“No. Not- not yet. I think it’s fine.”
Regulus nods, resting his head in his hand. “He’ll get it eventually. Breaking free of the Imperio, I mean. It’s not too bad once you find the key.”
Evan spares him a glance. “You’d know, I suppose.”
Normally Regulus would push back on that, but he’s a little tipsy and enjoying the calm atmosphere. He just shrugs. “Guess I would.”
“I- what is he doing?” Evan cuts himself off, starting at the bar. Regulus follows his gaze, frowning.
Barty is leaning up against the counter, talking to some girl in a short skirt and high ponytail. She’s gesturing vaguely while he smirks and subtly leans closer.
Regulus watches for a moment before turning back to Evan. “Flirting, I'd imagine.”
The lines around Evan’s mouth harden. “Why?”
“Dunno.” Regulus looks over the girl again, tipping his head. “She’s… pretty.”
“Not that pretty,” Evan says indignantly.
Regulus scans his face. Oh.
“No. Not that pretty.” He pushes to his feet and goes up to the bar, standing close enough to Barty to essentially get between them. “Barty.”
“What?”
Regulus narrows his eyes, a silent warning. “Where’s our drinks?”
“You gonna introduce me to your mate?” The girl asks, turning to face Regulus. Another one- her friend, assumedly- comes up next to her.
“Yeah, who’s this?” She looks Regulus up and down and he takes a step back, suddenly in over his head.
“This-” Barty says, setting a hand on his shoulder. “Is Regulus. Reg, meet Veronica and… sorry, I didn’t catch your friend’s name.”
“Susan.”
“Oh, Susan. Lovely name. Isn’t it, Reg?”
Regulus turns to give Barty a dangerous look. “Our drinks?”
Barty rolls his eyes and waves a hand to the bartender, summoning him over. Susan takes another step. “So. Regulus. What did you do to get stuck with a name like that?”
“Uh- my parents are really into astronomy.”
Susan crinkles her brows. “What does astronomy have to do with anything?”
Regulus looks desperately over to Evan, who’s sitting back and smiling. He waves, looking smug. “Regulus. It’s a star.”
“Oh. So what do you do, starboy?”
He leans back against the counter, watching the bartender pour the drinks. “I’m still in school.”
She rolls her eyes. “Me too, obviously. I meant, what do you do outside of school? You know, like a hobby?”
He stares at her. “Uh… read, I guess?”
“Wow. An academic. So you must be pretty smart then, huh?”
He shrugs, and she smiles. It’d be a nice smile, he thinks, if she wasn’t trying so hard. “Do you smoke, Regulus?”
“On occasion.”
She pulls out a pack from her pocket, raising a brow. “Would you consider this an occasion?”
Barty kicks him, hard, under the counter. He sighs, giving up. “Yeah, I suppose.”
“Let’s go outside. You can’t smoke in here, I don’t think.”
Regulus has always been shit at saying no. And besides, he could use a cigarette. “Alright.”
He follows her out, turning a corner and leaning up against the wall of an alley. She hands him a cigarette and he takes it, leaning in to let her light it.
They smoke in silence for a moment. Regulus glances up at the sky, finding only a hazy sort of glow. You can’t see the stars here, he thinks.
Too much light pollution.
“So, do you come here often or-”
“Susan,” He interupts, not looking at her.
She lets out a long-suffering sigh. “I’m not getting anywhere, am I?”
“...No.”
“Is there still a chance?”
“Not really.”
“Alright.” Surprisingly, she seems to shrug it off and goes back to leaning up against the wall next to him. After a moment, she sends him a curious but playfully suspicious look. “Anything I could’ve done differently?”
He pauses, looks at the ground. “Not particularly. You aren’t the problem.”
She lets out a soft laugh. “You got a girlfriend?”
“...No.”
She smiles knowingly. “Ah."
They go back to smoking silently. He feels rude, after a moment. “You’re nice, if that helps. Pretty as well, I think.”
“You think.”
“I’m not the best judge of stuff like that.”
“You’re pretty too.” she smiles at him, and he finds he much prefers this smile to the one from earlier. It’s softer. Less forced, more relaxed. There’s nothing behind this one, no secret intention he can’t quite read.
“Thanks.”
“They don't know, do they? Your mates back there?”
He takes a long drag, watching the ember rapidly approach the filter. “Know what?”
“That I’m not exactly… your type.
He lets out the smoke, long and slow. “No. They don’t.”
She nods, tapping her cigarette on the wall behind them. “Do you have someone, then? Someone who does know?”
He lets the alcohol lower his guard, leaning in to the reassuring fact that she’s a stranger from another world, someone he’ll most likely never see again. “Yeah.” he says, and smiles. “I do.”
“He sounds special.”
“He is.”
She looks over, eyes softening. “What’s your favorite thing about him?”
Regulus opens his mouth then closes it again. Just one thing? “His… persistence.”
“His persistence?” She laughs. “Not his smile or abs?”
“Those are good too.”
She clicks her tongue. “You can’t tell your friend in there? He seemed a bit sleezy, but probably a good guy.”
Regulus laughs lightly. “No. He would not… be alright with this. James- my- I mean. They are not mates.”
“Ah.” She nods. “So it’s secret. Sexy.”
He smiles. “I suppose.” He puts out his cigarette and slides his hands back into his pockets. “So what do you do? Like a hobby, I mean.”
She gives him a look before tilting her head back. “Nothing special. I wish I was good at something cool, but I’m not that interesting. I play guitar in a band, if that means anything.”
Regulus frowns. “Guitar?”
She squints at him. “You know, like the instrument?”
“...Sure.”
Suddenly, the air in the alleyway shifts a little colder, though that might just be in Regulus’s head. He looks up, straightening instantly and pushing off the wall. Susan looks up too, taking a step closer to Regulus as she sucks in a breath. There’s a man standing in the entrance, silhouette large and imposing.
But-
But Regulus knows that shape. Knows those robes.
“Fucking hell,” he mumbles. Susan moves behind him an inch, breath hitching. He remembers what usually happens in the muggle world when strange men show up in sketchy alleyways, and lets her use him to shield herself.
“Sir?” he grits out, teeth clenched.
“Mr. Black,” Dumbledore says, taking a step forward.
This is… not ideal.
You never want to run into your teachers outside of school, but here? Now? When he’s decidedly tipsy outside a muggle pub shielding an equally drunk girl? This was definitely not ideal.
“What… what are you doing here?”
“I wanted to talk to you.”
“This has got to be illegal,” Regulus murmurs.
Susan clears her throat. “Do you know this guy?”
“He’s my teacher. I don’t know why he’s here, though.”
She drops her voice to a whisper. “Is he… safe?”
Regulus narrows his eyes at Dumbledore, looking entirely out of place among the muggle streets of London. “He won’t hurt us.”
“Who’s your friend?” Dumbledore asks, walking towards them slowly.
Susan clears her throat. “Susan. Why did you track down Regulus outside of school hours?”
Dumbledore is still wearing that infuriating gentle smile. “I needed to talk to him.”
“And you couldn’t wait till after break?”
Regulus feels like he should interrupt, but honestly he’s asking the same questions.
“No, I’m afraid not.” Dumbledore peers at them over his glasses. “Susan, would you mind giving us a minute alone?”
Susan narrows her eyes. “I don’t think-”
Regulus looks down at her. “It’s fine. Go back inside. Enjoy your night.”
She gives him a look. “Say goodbye before you leave, idiot.”
“I will.”
Huffing, she walks out and turns the corner. Regulus looks back at Dumbledore. “This feels like a boundary you shouldn’t be crossing.”
“Desperate times, Mr. Black. Sorry to interrupt your night. She seems nice.”
“That’s definitely a boundary.”
Dumbledore gives him an amused look as they both realize how much the alcohol is affecting him. He frowns. “Why are you here, Sir ?”
“I assumed it’d be better than arriving unannounced to your home residence. To my knowledge, there’s going to be a meeting with Voldemort and his Death Eaters tomorrow. I was wondering if you’d heard anything about that.”
“Why would I?”
Dumbledore levels him with a knowing look, not dropping that infuriating smile. “I believe our interests align. It’s pertinent we get as much information as possible in order to save as many lives as we can.”
Regulus narrows his eyes. “I don’t-”
“Susan’s life could be on the line.”
“Oh, fuck you.” Regulus scoffs, then blanches when he realizes he’s said it outloud. “Sir.” he adds, as if that’ll fix anything.
Dumbledore doesn’t blink, doesn’t react. “I know you’re connected to him, Mr. Black.”
“We seem to be going in circles with these little meetings.”
Dumbledore sighs. “You’ve been identified as an official Death Eater.”
“You know nothing.”
“I know that you’re still under my care, attending my school. If I can keep you safe-”
“You mean if you can use me for this opportunity.”
“-I’m going to do so, while I still can.” Dumbledore finishes.
“This hardly feels like you’re trying to keep me safe.”
“I’m sorry that’s the way I’m coming off.”
“You spiked my tea-”
“A necessary measure.”
“You intercepted my mail, you watched my common room, to followed me to muggle-London-”
Dumbledore splays his palms. “I’ve done what I’ve had to do. This is a matter of survival, Mr. Black. The greater good. Anything you can give me would be immensely helpful.”
“I can’t give you anything.”
“I know that’s not true, Regulus. You’re letting your fear guide you.”
“How’s that?” Someone asks from behind Dumbledore. The headmaster turns to reveal Barty and Evan, their postures stiff.
“Mr. Crouch. Mr. Rosier. What a pleasant surprise.”
“Yeah.” Evan crosses over, standing next to Regulus. Barty follows him. “Funny running into you here, Professor. So far from school.”
“I needed a word with-”
“He’s a bit busy.” Barty throws an arm around Regulus’s shoulders. “And besides. Whatever you think you know about him- about us- doesn’t matter here. He’s told you he’s not gonna be your spy. Maybe it’s time to drop it, Sir.”
Dumbledore tips his head. “This is time sensitive. I can do whatever I need to-”
“How ‘bout you wait till after Christmas, then?”
“Very well.” Dumbldore looks them over. “I can see I’m not getting anywhere. Expect a letter, Mr. Black.” With that, he turns and disapperates.
Regulus takes a stumbling step forward, heart rate spiking. “He can’t- he can’t send me a letter. That- he can’t do that.” If his parents got a hold of that- and they would- then…
“It’s fine. He’s probably bluffing.” Evan says, setting a hand on his shoulder.
“That guy is a fucking creep,” Barty gripes.
Regulus has to take a minute to get his breathing back under control. “Yeah,” he manages eventually.
"Why was he here?"
"To show me that he could be, I think. To prove he can track me."
“Ready to head out?” Evan asks.
“Just- I should go back in for a second.”
“Why?”
“I- should talk to Susan.” He learned long ago it’s always best to say goodbye- especially when someone asks you to.
Evan frowns. “Who’s Susan?”
Regulus blinks at him and Barty laughs, giving him a light shove. “Go get ‘em. Don’t take too long.”
He nods distantly and heads back inside, finding Susan seated at the bar. He goes up to her, clearing his throat awkwardly. “Susan.”
She turns around, smiling. “Starboy! Did you get your teacher to leave?”
“Took a bit of coaxing. Barty and Evan helped. I assume you sent them?”
She shrugs. “I didn’t like his vibe. Didn’t trust him. It’s fucking creepy to approach your student outside of school near a pub.”
“Smart.”
“You heading out?”
“Yeah.”
“Here.” She pulls a napkin towards her and scribbles down a string of numbers. “This is my number. Don’t worry- I’m not making a move. But use it, ‘k? Whenever you want.”
He takes it after a moment. He has no phone, nor does he know how to work one. But even so, it’s a nice gesture. “Thanks. It was nice meeting you. Sorry I… sorry.”
She frowns. “Nothing to apologize for. And nice meeting you too, Regulus. I’ll see you around, ok?”
That’s not true, but he offers her a small smile and lets her think it is.
---
“You had a late night.” Walburga frowns as Regulus comes down stairs, running a hand through his hair.
“Sorry,” he dips his head and takes a seat at the kitchen table. He focuses on his food for a moment before speaking up. “Is there a meeting tonight?”
“Yes.” Walburga neatly folds the newspaper she was reading, setting it down next to her. “You’re expected to attend, of course.”
“Alright.”
“Bella is coming over later to practice Occlumency with you.”
“...Alright.”
She gives him a sharp look, but chooses not to comment on his hesitation. “After breakfast I’ll watch you practice. I imagine school’s left little time for the violin.”
“Ok.”
“Regulus?”
“Yes?”
“Tonight I want you on your best behavior. I expect nothing less.”
“Of course, Maman.”
---
Monty starts taking the potions, eventually. James sees the empty bottles on the nightstand.
They don’t talk.
Remus comes over two days before Christmas, and James immediately notices the change between him and Sirius. More casual touches, leaning into each other at the dinner table, waking up in the same room. Even if it’s not said, everyone knows.
James is happy for them. Honestly. Genuinely. Merlin knows it took long enough. But-
But.
The thing he’s been desperately trying not to think about creeps up on him everytime he sees their fingers interlaced, breathing down his neck when Sirius slings an arm over Remus’s shoulders.
He sees it in everything, a dark snake twisting around the edges of his subconscious, a skull hovering just over his left shoulder.
In his dreams, Regulus pulls out a wand and curses James, sends him to his knees, makes him hurt.
In his dreams, Regulus tucks his hair behind his ear and brews him sleeping potions before he has to ask.
He’s… struggling. The guilt is overwhelming. He can hardly meet Sirius or Remus’s eyes in fear they’ll see what he’s done. What he knows. What he chooses to ignore.
A muggle attack turns up in the paper, and for the first time James has to seriously contend with the notion that Regulus might have been involved. He doesn’t know what to do with the slurry of emotions that thought brings up.
So-
He does nothing. He shoves them down. He laughs with Sirius, winks at Remus, even gives his father the occasional soft smile. He makes it work.
His mother, of course, sees right through him.
“James?”
James looks up from his bed, shutting his book after a minute. “Mum. What’s up?”
She hovers in the doorway for a minute, watching him carefully. “The boys want to play a board game, I think. Do you want to join us?”
“No thanks. I think I’ll just read for a bit.”
She lets out a soft sigh, closing her eyes. “James.”
“Mm?”
“What’s wrong?”
“I don’t know wha-”
“Come on.” She steps in and takes a seat on the edge of his bed, studying him carefully. “You’ve been off all break.”
He scrambles for something to say, something reasonable. He settles on a half-truth. “It’s hard. With Dad.”
She pinches her lips into a line. “Have you two still not talked? I mean, after…”
James shrugs. “There’s nothing to say.”
“You’re both so alike.”
He wrinkles his nose at her. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
“I have never met two more stubborn people in my life.”
“I’m not stubborn-”
She gives him a look. “Think about how hard you’re fighting to keep him alive.”
“Think about how hard he’s trying to die!”
Effie tips her head. “Stubborn.”
“Fine.” James sits back, staring at the wall. “I don’t- I don’t understand why you’re indulging him.”
“He’s a grown man. He can make his own choices.”
“He’s making the wrong ones.”
“To you,” Effie smiles. “To him, it’s what he feels is right.”
“Who’s side are you on?” James hisses.
She gives him a sad smile. “James. I understand why you’re feeling the way you are. But-” For the first time, she looks hesitant.
“What?”
She takes a deep breath. “Dragon Pox is incredibly contagious.”
James is sitting up in an instant, stomach dropping to the floor. “Have you-”
“I’m fine,” She smiles, and he lets his heart rate calm. “For now. But if it was me, and it will be, one day, I wouldn’t want to be stuck here. Sometimes- sometimes death can be the right answer. Especially if you’re ready.”
“But-”
“What happens when you run out of potions? When Regulus runs out of ideas?”
“He won’t.”
She gives him a long look. “He may have figured it out before but-”
“You don’t know him. He wouldn’t give up. He’s the smartest person I’ve ever met. He’ll figure it out.”
“He’s told you what the potions do, right?”
“What?”
“Your father?”
He must look confused because she nods. “They hurt, James. They make his joints ache for weeks after he takes them, and his whole body flares up for 3 hours after every dose.”
“...What?”
“He didn’t tell because he didn’t want you to feel bad, but he can hardly move each time. It’s not an easy choice. It never has been.”
James can’t breathe. “It’s that bad?”
She nods, eyes glistening. “It’s that bad.”
“But he…”
“He stays alive. He keeps living. He gets to talk to you and Sirius. But it’s agony, James. He’s only here for you.”
The guilt has wrapped itself around his neck, choking out his words and shoving them back down his throat. He’s tearing in half, heart splitting right down the middle as the realization sinks into him. “Oh,” he says softly. “I’ve been awful to him.”
“No, James-”
“Of course he hates me. Of course. I’ve- I’ve been forcing him to take potions that-”
“It’s not your fault. You didn’t know.”
“Why?” James asks, voice cracking. “Why didn’t I know? Why would he let me…”
“You were so scared of losing him. He saw that. To tell you what that fear was doing to him would’ve felt cruel.”
“Why does no one tell me when I’m hurting them?”
“What are you talking about?”
“Regulus, and his head, and then what Dorcas said about- and now dad, and the potions. I can’t- I can’t…” He leans forward, trying desperately to get his breathing back under control.
Effie sets a hand on his back, rubbing lightly. “Breathe, James. None of this is your fault.”
“Of course it is.”
“You didn’t know.”
Something inside James cracks because no, he didn’t know. He never knows. Not until it’s too late. “I’m going to lose him,” he says softly, and tears start to spill down his cheeks. “I’m going to lose both of them.”
“What-”
The mark burns into his vision, seared behind his eyelids. “Sorry,” He curses, swiping his hand across his cheeks. “I’m sorry.”
“Monty’s taking the potions like you asked. You aren’t going to lose him.”
James takes a shuddering breath. “Yeah, but not any longer, right?”
“What are you talking about?”
“I can’t ask him to keep taking the potions. Not now I know what they do. How can I?”
“Oh, James.”
“I need- can I have a minute?”
Effie gives him a long look before standing up with a sigh, reaching out to wipe the tears off his face. “He loves you, no matter what. We both do.”
James watches her go, staring down at his hands. He wishes he could talk to Regulus. That thought brings a whole new hell. He just- he wants to talk this out. With someone logical, someone who won’t get unnecessary emotions involved. Or that would know how to deal with them when they inevitably do. Or… shit.
He buries his head in his hands. He needs his father. Needs him like he needs oxygen. But to know he’s hurting, to know he’s putting himself through hell for James’s sake, it’s unbearable.
Standing up, he goes to the door, hand on the knob.
Losing his father would be worse.
He turns around and paces back to the bed, sitting down and letting out a frustrated huff. It’s not fair. It’s not fair that this is his burden, that he has to make this choice. It’s ripping him apart.
But.
But it’s not, he thinks. Not his choice, not his burden. He can beg as much as he wants to, but at the end of the day his mother is right. It’s his father’s decision, through and through.
He makes it downstairs and brushes past his mother, Sirius, and Remus in favor of pushing open his father’s door.
“Dad.”
---
“Regulus Black.” The Dark Lord tips his head in his direction. “The meeting starts in five minutes. You’re early.”
Regulus tips his head, still hovering in the doorway. The Dark Lord sits alone at the end of the long stone table, eyes fixed firmly on Regulus. “Apologies, my Lord. I was wondering if you had a moment to talk, privately.”
The Dark Lord considers for a moment before nodding, beckoning him in. “Don’t just stand there. Enter.”
“Of course. Thank you.”
“Well?”
Regulus clears his throat, trying not to grimace in disgust. “I would like to talk about the new… power you gifted me with.”
“Ah.” The Dark Lord looks up in real interest. “What about it?”
“I- I don’t know if it took properly. I can’t feel… anything good.”
“You can’t feel it?”
“I can feel something. But it isn’t power.”
The Dark Lord narrows his eyes. “Not by your standards, maybe.”
“My Lord-”
“-this is just another step, Regulus. I need you by my side. I don’t have the time to personally walk you through the transfusion.”
“I just wanted to see if there’s anything I should know.”
“You don’t think I’d tell you?”
Regulus clears his throat. “I’m afraid it’s making me sick, my Lord.
“Sick?”
“I’m too tired, too often, and something inside me doesn’t feel… right.”
The Dark Lord studies him for a moment before tipping his head. “Don’t blame me for your weak immune system. If you can’t even handle a common cold-”
“Nevermind.” Regulus says, letting out a soft breath. “I’m sorry I bothered you.”
The Dark Lord nods to the chair a little way down the table and that’s that.
As Death Eaters file in around him, Regulus takes his seat numbly. Evan sits across from him, giving him a long look Regulus doesn’t quite know how to interpret.
“Are you ok?” He mouths, but Regulus just looks away. How can he explain? James is the only one that knows, he realizes. But even he doesn’t understand how much Regulus feels like he’s rotting away.
“Welcome, my children. We have a lot to discuss.”
The meeting drags on, long and laborious, until Regulus finds himself zoned out and staring at the table. He just wants to sleep.
“Mr. Black.”
He snaps to attention, raising his head and blinking in the direction of the voice. “Apologies, my Lord.”
“I believe this applies to you. I just wanted to make sure you were paying attention.”
“Of course.”
The Dark Lord laces his fingers under his chin. “We need an informant. On the other side. Preferably around the age of you and Rosier and Crouch.”
“An informant?” Regulus looks from Evan to the Dark Lord. “Who?”
“I am not sure yet. I wanted to know if you could think of anyone who’s allegiance might be turned. A classmate, perhaps? A Gryffindor?”
Regulus blinks at him. “No one I know would…”
Voldemort waves his hand. “Let's skip this. Save time.”
And without warning, he forces his way into Regulus’s head.
It’s sharp and painful, so entirely different from Bellatrix that it takes Regulus a second to conjure up a screen. He tries to imagine his thoughts melting away, but the Dark Lord tears through his ocean and grabs at whatever he can find, somehow rooting through memories that Regulus barely manages to rip out of his reach.
Regulus slumps forward at the table, eyes screwed shut as he concentrates. He can’t defend himself- his only control rests in which specific memories to hide. He lets the Dark Lord go straight to his database of faces, scanning through his classmates like shuffling cards. Some faces are clearer than others, well defined in Regulus’s mind. He pauses on Sirius’s face a moment before moving on, since it stands out like a beacon, imposing and important. Regulus notices where he’s going next a few seconds too late.
Kind, chocolate-brown eyes that glow in the sun.
A flashing grin.
Fuck.
Voldemort rips out of his head, leaving Regulus nauseous and panting, bent over the table. His heart pounds in his chest, entire body thrumming with nerves. Shit, shit, shit-
“The Potter boy?”
He goes still, breath still caught in his throat. Every inhale tastes like blood. “My Lord-”
“I hardly think he would betray his parent’s cause.”
Everything about this conversation is so fucking wrong- James’s name should never be mentioned here, at this table, on those lips. His worlds are colliding with a terrifying force, dangerous and sudden.
“I agree, my Lord.” he refuses to look at Evan.
“So why…” The Dark Lord studies him carefully. “It was an inside job, you know. Taking down Fleamont Potter. Though- he’s proved resistant, annoyingly. The potions those bloody doctors have concocted are actually working."
Despite the seriousness of the situation, Regulus can’t ignore the thrum of pride the words send through him.
“Still, if you think he may be pliable…”
Regulus shakes his head. “I don’t. He’d never-”
“Don’t lie, Mr. Black. I’ve seen inside your head. There’s no reason for fallacies. His face appeared most vibrantly when I searched.”
“He’s stubborn, my Lord, he’d never-”
“But you think he can be swayed by you. Interesting. How do you know each other?”
Regulus opens his mouth, closes it again. He’s so afraid. “My brother's friend, my Lord.”
“Hmm.” The Dark Lord looks up, eyes scanning his followers. “Either way, if any of you see him on a mission or in the field, bring him in for questioning. The brat might be worth something- especially since his parents are still heavily involved with the order and he knows Black, Crouch, and Rosier. Don't kill him, just bring him in. I want to speak with the boy.”
No.
No.
“Would any of your brother’s other friends consider our side?” Voldemort asks. Reguls barely registers the words but Evan picks up his slack a second later.
“I highly doubt it, my Lord. They’re frustratingly loyal.”
This is wrong. All wrong. James was always supposed to stay separate, stay out of this. This is Regulus’s world, the one only he knows how to survive. James wouldn’t make it a day.
The Dark Lord moves on but Regulus stays there, hands clasped in his lap as he tries not to hyperventilate.
This was never supposed to be dangerous for James. He was supposed to stay as far away from this as possible. But now his name’s been mentioned, he’s been distinguished as a target; and it’s all Regulus’s fault.
James would follow him anywhere, do whatever he needed to if it meant staying close to Regulus. But it was exactly that- his proximity to Regulus- that was putting him in danger. And that.
That couldn’t be allowed.
The Dark Lord left him no choice, then. He’d show James the Mark. The minute he gets back to school, he’ll force James to understand. The thought tears him apart- losing James will destroy him, he knows. But it’s necessary. If it means James stays away from the Death Eaters, if it means he doesn’t follow Regulus into danger, then it will be worth it.
He’ll roll up his sleeve, watch James’s face fall in realization, watch him spit cruel words Regulus has imagined hundreds of times in his head. Watch him walk out the door.
He’d rather die than see James hurt because of him. And it’ll hurt, of course. It’ll ruin him. But he’ll stay alive.
It was never meant to last, he thinks, even as everything inside him revolts at the notion.
It's not fair. It's not fair.
Somewhere through the fog, a voice, haunting and reptilian, murmurs:
Slowly, or all at once.