The Gaunts
When Remus pushes open the door to his house, the first thing he sees is a spider running across his foot. Every board in the floor creaks as he steps in, setting his bags down and looking around.
He hates this place. Not entirely, not unbearably, but enough. He doesn’t hate it for the same reasons Sirius used to hate going home. Sirius hated his parents, his brother, the air of cruelty that permeated every inch of Number 12 Grimmauld Place. Remus hates his house because of the absence of all that. Well, not the abuse, but anything. His house is empty. Sparse. Even the people that move within its walls barely speak, void of anything worth acknowledging.
His mother stays in bed most days, though Remus isn’t entirely sure why. She’s not sick. She seems physically fine. But when he sits next to her and looks in her eyes, all he sees is a watery-clear weakness. It doesn’t scare him as much as it depresses him. He does his best not to meet her gaze.
His father stays in his study, pouring over books and ledgers and giving little time to his wife or child. Not that either of them mind- Remus and Hope are so wrapped up in their own problems they take little notice of his absence.
Remus steps into his mother’s room, hovering in the doorway. “Mum.”
Hope puts her book down and rolls over, smiling slightly when she sees him. “Remus, love. What are you doing home? I thought you were staying with the Potters until you get a flat.”
“Yeah.” He clears his throat, looking around. “I just needed some of my stuff.”
“And they have the proper… equipment to handle you?”
Handle you.
“Uh. Yeah.” Remus shifts. “Remember I told you about the new potion I’m taking? It’s making it easier. Not curing it, but.”
“It was worse for a while, wasn’t it?” Hope focuses on him distantly. “I remember you said something about it getting worse.”
“It was getting worse,” Remus agrees. He was turning into a full monster, not just a part-time one. Sometimes he’ll wake up gasping in the middle of the night and think he still is. On occasion, he swears his fingernails are morphing into claws, elongating and puncturing his skin.
Sirius takes care to clip and file them for him, kissing each one after he’s done and reminding Remus that it would be concerning if they weren’t growing.
“But I’m managing it,” he says to his mother eventually. “I’ll be fine.” The Potters are paying a potioneer to make Wolfsbane now that Remus has graduated. He’s glad to be rid of Snape. Remus told Effie he’d repay her, but she’d insisted against the idea.
He looks around his mother’s room, taking a step back. He should get going. Working with the Order’s been good for him, he’s found. Getting more information about the werewolves working for Voldemort and being able to actually do something about it feels like an achievement- even if they’ve only been let on a few reconnaissance missions. He’s anxious to get back.
Plus, the fewer minutes he has to spend in this stifling silence, the better.
“I’m going to talk to Dad and then I’m leaving,” Remus says.
Hope blinks up at him from where she’s leaning against the headboard. “That was quick.”
Remus shrugs. “Yeah. Well. I needed some stuff,” he says again. “But I'll write, okay?”
“Mhm.” She reaches out to him and he bends down to give her an awkward hug, breathing in the familiar scent of linens and tea. He hopes she knows how much he loves her.
“Bye Mum,” he says, straightening up. “I’ll see you soon, ‘kay?”
“Okay.” She nods at him and he backs out of the room, turning in the hall to say goodbye to his father.
It’s easier, he thinks, to ignore the emptiness that haunts this house than to let it consume him. When he has everything he needs, he stands on the stoop and looks back one last time. It’s a sad house, full of sad people, alone against the moors.
He’s going to miss it.
---
“I saw Regulus the other day,” Sirius says.
James stares at him, suddenly laser focused. The people of Diagon Alley bustle around them in the rare sun. “What? When?”
They step around a vendor peddling singing hats. Sirius keeps his gaze straight ahead. “At Monty’s funeral.”
Something sinks in James’s chest. “He- he was there?” He didn’t see him. He’d liked to have seen him.
“Later that night. He left flowers.”
“The roses,” James realizes, blinking. Since that day he’s been back, cleaning the flowers and pulling dying leaves off stems. The dark red roses at the base of the grave have yet to fade. He knew their magic felt familiar.
“Yeah,” Sirius breathes. “The roses. I don’t know- I mean. I didn’t know he knew him.”
“I don’t think he did,” James says. He pauses. “Before Dad died, I asked Regulus for help.”
Sirius stops walking, coming to a stand-still in the middle of the road. “What?”
James pushes past the burning ache of betrayal, knowing it’s better to get it out of the way. Sirius and him, they don’t keep secrets. He isn’t about to start now.
“I asked him if he could make a potion for my father. I thought. I thought since he’s one of the best in the school, he could help.”
Sirius’s eyes scan his face, wide and searching. “You didn’t tell me.”
“No.”
“Why not?”
“Would you have let me try it?”
“Absolutely not.”
“Right.”
Sirius starts walking again. James catches up. Neither of them speak.
“He said no, then.” Sirius says after a minute of silence.
James sucks in a breath. “Yeah. He said no. But- I was wearing him down. I could feel it.”
“What makes him so special?” Sirius asks.
“Everything,” James blurts, then immediately goes red. “Wait. No. I mean. All his grades and his recommendations- he obviously knows a lot about the subject.”
Idiot.
“But better than the doctors?”
“I was desperate, Sirius. My dad was dying.”
Sirius bites his lip, stopping at a pub and holding the door for James. They find their way to a table, settling into the red booth. “Did it have to be him ?”
“It doesn’t matter,” James says, sweeping a hand through his hair and resting his elbows on the table. “He said no. Multiple times.”
“You asked him more than once?”
“Well.” James says, not meeting his eyes. “I wasn’t going to give up so easily.”
“So why’d he turn you down?”
“I don’t know,” James huffs, drumming his fingers against the table. “He never gave me a real reason. He just kept saying it wouldn’t work.”
“He might’ve had a point about that, mate.” Sirius says. “I don’t think he’s that good. Not better than St. Mungo’s best doctors. He’s still in school.”
“Not anymore.”
Sirius grimaces. “No. Not anymore.”
James rests his chin on his folded arms. “Did you two talk, then?”
“...Yes.” Sirius scrubs a tired hand over his face, grey eyes reflecting in the dim light. “Yeah, we did.”
James watches him carefully. It’s always been a touchy subject, Sirius and Regulus. Best avoided unless brought up first. Yet here Sirius is, bringing it up. Which means, on some level, he wants to talk about it. James indulges. “About what?”
“All of it.” Sirius lets out a harsh breath. “I. Fuck, Prongs, he makes me so angry.”
“But?”
“But. But I just. I need him safe. And he’s not being safe.”
James nods. He understands. Perhaps more than he should. “Is he… is he okay?”
Sirius gives a small helpless shrug. “I don’t know. He’d never tell me.”
“Do you want him to be?”
“I don’t know.” Sirius sighs again, leaning his head against the wall. “I… he told me he doesn’t support Voldemort.”
It feels like some secret thing in James’s stomach grows wings and lifts off, sending his insides spiraling. “He said that?”
Because that would mean Regulus is worth all the energy James longs to devote to him.
It would mean there’s hope.
It would mean he could carry all the horrible hidden feelings currently lurking behind his heart with a little less shame.
“Yeah.” Sirius frowns, looking down. There’s something James doesn’t think he’ll fully understand drifting across his eyes. “I asked him to come back with us.”
“Oh.”
“I shouldn’t have assumed Effie would be okay with it. I shouldn’t have assumed you-”
“I asked him the same thing.”
Sirius stops. Time slows to a stop for a minute as he catches up to what James said. “You knew he had the mark.”
“I knew.”
“You didn’t ask me.”
“I was going to.”
“You-” Sirius leans back in the booth, his gaze sending James shrinking away. He knows there’s nothing to hide. He knows there’s no reason to be afraid. But for some reason, the desire to keep everything about Regulus secret is overwhelming. Those conversations, those looks, James wants them to be private. Belonging to no one but them.
He wants Regulus all to himself.
“-You knew he was a Death Eater. You knew. And you asked him to come home with us?”
“Well. I didn’t think he meant it.”
Sirius laughs incredulously. “You didn’t think he meant it. Merlin, how often do you two talk?”
James flushes. “Not often. Just. I thought he could help. And then I thought I could help.”
“Must be some connection, then.”
“Sirius, don’t be like that. We’ve had a few conversations. Again, I was desperate.”
“Just… stop, okay? Don’t talk to him anymore. That’s all I ask. I- If I want to tell him something I’ll do it myself. Just stay away from him.”
“That’s easy enough,” James swallows. “We’re all out of school. It’s not like I’m going to see him around.”
“Yeah, well. Don’t go looking.” Sirius says. “He’s the same stubborn idiot he was before, if you were wondering. He obviously turned me down. So he’s just… lying to himself.”
“What d’you mean?”
“I mean he said he doesn’t support Voldemort. He said he’s not a blood supremacist. Yet he still stays. He still… helps them.”
“Maybe he doesn’t have a choice.” James says.
“That’s the thing,” Sirius sighs, looking so tired. “I keep giving him one.”
James lets out a breath. “Maybe you’re right. I just thought…”
“I still can’t believe you thought he’d agree to help you.”
“It was worth a shot.”
Sirius looks at him then, eyes searching his face. James doesn’t know what he expects to find. “When did you stop telling me things, Prongs?”
James freezes. “What?”
“It’s fine. I know the answer.” Sirius glances away, and he looks so much like Regulus that James chokes on it. “Back in the beginning of sixth year.”
Guilt, unfamiliar and unfounded, festers hard in James’s stomach. “What?”
“I mean. You just stopped talking to me. First the thing with Monty, then your boyfriend, and you just kind of… faded.”
“My… what?”
Everything hurts. He can’t think.
“You know. And like, I get that you don’t want to talk about it, but did you really think I would care? You know Remus and I… you know I don’t care about that kind of thing. You can’t even tell me his name?”
“His… name?”
The thing inside him, the missing piece, burns like nothing he’s ever felt before. Why can’t he think ?
“Fine. Whatever. I just. I want to go back to the way we were before. It’s just like- as your best friend, isn’t this exactly the sort of stuff we should be talking about? Love? Gossip? In the midst of all this… turmoil, I thought at least that topic would stay easy. I didn’t even know you were into boys until you told me about him.”
“...Fabian?”
“No.”
James frowns. There’s something muddy and thick wrapping around his thoughts, making it hard to form anything coherent. What…
Who…
And then he’s sitting in the same spot, staring at the same person, but he can’t for the life of him recall what they were literally just talking about. It’s like he blinked and lost a minute or two. Regulus, he thinks distantly. Sirius saw Regulus. He was mad at James for asking Regulus for help.
Right.
Okay.
He’s back on track.
“I was desperate,” James says. “I thought he might be able to help.”
“What?”
“Sorry I didn’t tell you, though. I should’ve.”
“I don’t… wait. What?”
“Regulus and the potions for my father. I guess I knew it wouldn’t work, but it was worth a shot.”
Sirius’s gaze hardens. “Oh. Okay. We’re ignoring the issue. Fine. Whatever. Sorry for bringing it up.”
“What?”
Sirius rolls his eyes. “It’s fine, James. You’re allowed to speak to whoever you please. Just maybe mention it next time, yeah?”
“Okay. I- yeah, that’s fair.”
“There’s Moony.” Sirius looks up as the door jingles. Remus sends them a small wave before making his way to the bar to get their drinks.
James focuses on the grain of the table, trying to clear his head. It’s gone dizzy again. “What- er. What were we talking about?”
Sirius gives him a funny look. “Regulus.”
And there’s the fuzziness again.
“Ah.”
“I just don’t get it. I mean. Do you have any idea how many secrets Regulus has kept from me over the years?” Sirius reaches out to help Moony put the drinks down and scooches over to make room on his side of the booth. ‘“You think he could’ve at least told me he was imperioed.”
“In his defense,” James starts, but stops when he sees Remus cut him a look from across the table. “Nevermind.”
Sirius turns to look at Remus. “Did you know our James here has been meeting up in secret with my brother?”
Remus’s eyes go wide with a shock James doesn’t feel entirely fits the situation. “What?”
James rolls his eyes. “He’s making it sound so dramatic. We just… talked. A few times.”
“James.” Remus says disapprovingly.
“I-” James swallows. “I had something to say.”
Remus studies him. “About?”
“My dad.”
Remus doesn’t look as surprised as James expected. Instead, he just seems vaguely sad. “Oh. Right. Did he really come to the funeral?”
“No,” Sirius clarifies. “He came later that night. I guess since James talked to him about Monty he thought he should be there.”
Remus looks up suddenly. “Wait. He doesn’t think that- you told him it wasn’t his fault?”
Sirius stares at him in confusion. “Why the fuck would it be his fault?”
“I mean.” Remus shifts, avoiding both their gazes. “I mean, if James asked for his help and he denied it, he might feel a little guilty.”
“I wouldn’t worry about that.” Sirius says, letting his head fall back against the booth behind him. “That’s not how he thinks.”
“I’ll tell him,” James says before he can think. “I’ll make sure he knows.”
Sirius’s head snaps right back up. “No you bloody won’t? Excuse you?”
“Oh.” James pauses. Why had he thought he’d be seeing Reg soon? Why had he thought he’d be the one to deliver that message? “I don’t- you’re right. I don’t know why I said that.”
“James,” Remus says softly. James refuses to look at him, the ache in his chest that’s been lingering for sometime now growing slightly. He rubs his sternum, taking a deep breath.
“I guess I forgot we’re not going back to school.”
“Regardless,” Sirius says. “I think it was a good conversation. I mean- it gave me hope. Some, at least.”
“Good. That’s good.” James takes a long drink. “Whatever. Doesn’t really matter much, does it? He’ll do what he pleases.”
“True.” Sirius nods. “It’s no concern of mine.”
“Have you two talked to Moody since last weekend? Dumbledore?”
Sirius shakes his head but Remus nods, looking guilty when both Sirius and James look to him in surprise. “It wasn’t a meeting or anything,” he says. “I was just checking in with him about something.”
“About what?”
Remus raises a brow. “What do you think.”
“Ah.” Sirius says, taking a sip of his beer.
James looks between them, confused. “What?”
Sirius shares a glance with Remus. “Voldemort has been recruiting werewolves at an increasing rate. We think he’s turning them just to add to his army.”
“Merlin,” James says, surprised. “I… didn’t know that.”
“Because Dumbledore’s refusing to tell the Order,” Remus huffs. “I’m not sure why.”
“So what are you going to do?”
“I have a plan,” Remus says. “But. It’s risky.”
“Pray tell.”
“Not yet.” Remus sets his beer down. “I need more time. I need Dumbledore’s approval.”
James tips his head. Dumbledore’s the head of the order, but Moody’s the enforcer. “Not Moody’s?”
Remus smiles. “He would agree too easily.”
“I see.”
“Don’t worry,” Sirius says, shifting till his thigh presses against Remus’s. He leans into him, just slightly. “Dumbledore will understand. He has to.”
James stares at the place where they touch, emotions swirling into a confused and muddled blob in his chest. It’s not jealousy. Not exactly. He has nothing to be jealous of. It’s not like he wants a relationship or anything like that. He doesn’t have the time or the capacity, what with the war and the loss of his father still so fresh. Still, the thing inside him aches, like it longs for something it doesn’t know. Like there’s something missing.
James really needs to find it.
Then Sirius shifts away, and the ache resides. James swallows the rest of his drink and then remembers something, standing up from the booth quickly. “Shit. I told my mom I would help with dinner tonight. I’ve got to go.”
“Best of luck Prongsy!” Sirius calls.
“Do your best not to light the place on fire,” Remus smiles.
James waves and ducks out to the street to apparate away. He doesn’t burn the house down, but it’s a close call. In the end, his mother has to throw a towel over his head to put out the flames.
---
Remus wants to hold Sirius’s hand. He would reach out if he could, tangle their fingers together, pull him to his side. It’d be easier to not lose him in the crowd if he could keep him close, Remus thinks.
But Diagon Alley always finds a way to pull people apart, the disorganized swarms of pedestrians pushing them every which way. Remus makes do with sticking close behind Sirius, keeping an eye on his back and following him down the street. They duck into a sweets shop and Remus catches his breath, standing as close to Sirius as socially acceptable. “Do you really need more sugar?”
Sirius turns, small brown bag already half full. His eyes twinkle in the pink light of the shop. “Of course. Also, says you. I don’t think I’ve seen you go one day without somehow consuming an entire chocolate bar.”
Remus flushes. “That’s different. Chocolate isn’t as sweet as… those things.”
Sirius shrugs, popping a bright purple candy into his mouth when the shopkeeper isn’t looking. “You think I should be watching my figure?”
“No.” Remus resists the urge to move closer. “I like your figure just fine. What I do not like, however, is the shockingly chaotic burst of energy you’ll get after you finish that bag.”
“I’m just trying to catch up to Prongs.”
“Yeah, but he’s just like that normally. You’re relatively reasonable till you’re sugar high.”
Sirius winks and shovels another heaping of sweets into his bag and moves towards the counter, fishing some galleons out of his pocket.
Remus sighs in exasperation and follows him out, pinching a sweet from Sirius’s bag and inspecting it in the afternoon sun. “It’s… sparkling.”
“Makes your tongue glitter too.”
“Lovely.”
They follow some side streets to a canal plopping down on its bank and dangling their legs over the wall. On the other side some kids toss a kite in the air, futilely attempting to fly it in a non-existent updraft. The kite keeps crashing down, sticking nose-first into the grass. Remus smirks watching them.
Sirius rests his hand on the wall they’re sitting on, setting it right next to Remus’s. Their pinkies touch, and Remus can’t resist crossing his over Sirius’s.
“Remember that night,” he says suddenly. “When you made me get into bed with you?”
Sirius scrunches his face. “Ok, I hardly made you do anything.”
“You lead me to my room at the Potter’s. Like I hadn’t been there before.”
“What if you got lost?”
“And then you climbed into bed and pulled me down with you.”
“Yes, well. I seem to remember you going quite willingly.”
“Of course I did.” Remus looks down at him, memorizing the light flush in his cheeks.
“And it was you who held my hand.”
“I’m not sure about that,” Remus says smoothly, running his pinky over Sirius’s. The motion is gentle, soft, nothing compared to the nights they spend with more of their skin pressed together than Remus ever thought possible, and yet somehow Sirius’s pupils still dilate and he shivers, leaning closer. “It was quite mutual, if memory serves. You’re the one who fell asleep.”
“I… you were very warm. I like sharing my bed. I always sleep better next to someone else.”
“Mm.” Remus looks back across the canal, shielding his eyes against the light reflecting off the water. “I was going to kiss you, you know.”
Sirius chokes next to him. “What?”
“If you’d been awake when I looked at you, I would’ve kissed you.”
“Shit.” Sirius curses. “We could’ve been doing this so much earlier.”
“No,” Remus says after a beat. “No, I don’t think we could’ve. I think we needed time.”
Sirius goes quiet. “You think I needed time, you mean.”
“Maybe.”
“I don’t know what I was doing,” Sirius says with a pained groan. “I was holding your hand, flirting with you, and I didn’t realize I liked you? How does that possibly work?”
“I have no idea,” Remus confesses. “I was incredibly confused, to be honest.”
“Yeah. Sorry about that.”
Remus waves a hand in dismissal. “We figured it out eventually.”
“That we did.”
“It’s interesting.” Sirius says after a beat. “James called it before I did.”
“What?”
“He seemed to know that I was head over heels for you when I was still oblivious.”
“I don’t know how subtle either of us were being,” Remus allows.
“I think it’s ‘cause he’d already been through all that.” Sirius says. “Like, he knew what to look for.”
Remus stares down through the water, eyes catching on trash littering the floor of the canal. “Yeah. Yeah, maybe.”
“Why does he never bring it up? His relationship?” Sirius looks away. “It’s… I mean. I know everything about him. We never keep secrets. But that- he wouldn't let me even go near that. I feel like I’m missing a huge chunk of his story.”
He does too , Remus thinks. Instead, he says: “I think it’s probably just a sore subject.”
“Yeah, but his dad was a sore subject too, and we talked about that.”
“Remember how that started, though? He kept it a secret from you for weeks.”
Sirius nods. “True.”
“He never liked difficult conversations.” Remus says.
“That’s not it. He does just fine with difficult conversations, as long as they’re not about him. The amount of shit I’ve told him… he’s very good at listening. He’s so helpful. I never would’ve survived that house without him. But the second I ask him how he’s doing… I don’t know. I just wish he wouldn't shut down so quickly.”
Remus bites his lip. Neither of them say anything for a long moment.
“I just feel like he’s not the same anymore,” Sirius hums. “I want the old James back.”
Remus closes his eyes, enjoying the warmth of the sun. He considers that for a long minute. James is different, he supposes, but Remus can hardly pinpoint how. He was right there next to him, watching him change. Watching him shift. Watching Regulus carve chunks out of him, watching him gut the James they used to know and morph him into someone new.
Though, he thinks. It’s not Regulus’s fault. Not entirely. It was James, really, who carried the knife. He offered more and more of himself to Regulus, who made it clear from the beginning he couldn’t take it. James Potter loves with his whole heart, even if it destroys him.
Maybe since Remus was the only one who knows, who knew , he can’t entirely see how James has changed. It’s like watching summer end- you don’t notice it’s going till you're standing in the middle of a bare grey forest and you have snow in your boots. Sirius wasn’t there for any of that. James wouldn’t let him be. He saw every leaf drop, every snowflake fall. He watched James change with little to no explanation of why.
“He’s still our James,” Remus says idly. “We’re all different.”
“But for most of sixth year, even when he wasn’t telling me who his boyfriend was, he was happy. I know he was. Monty was sick, sure, but it wasn’t bad yet. And he wasn’t telling me stuff, but he was still so full of energy. And now he’s just so… spacy.”
“That’s not his fault.”
“I know. I know. I just feel like if he’d tell us what’s wrong, we could help put him back together. He’d never hesitate to do it for us.”
“We’ll get there,” Remus says. “Once we make it through this war.”
“We will.” Sirius glances a look up at him. “It’s- everything’s going to work out.”
“I know.”
“Dumbledore won’t let anything happen to us.”
“I know.”
“We’ll make it out-”
Remus can’t take it anymore, grabbing his face and kissing him long and deep, enjoying the taste of sugar on his lips. Sirius makes a small sound and melts into him, gasping a little when Remus pulls back, still holding his head. “Sirius,” He says calmly. “I know.”
Sirius, blushing furiously, stares at him. “Okay.” He chokes. “Okay. Yeah. Yeah, I trust you.”
“Do you?”
“Yes.” a pause. “Very much.”
“Good.”
Sirius ducks his head, obviously still trying to regain his composure. “Uh. In other news. Have you seen Pete recently?”
Remus blinks at the sudden conversation switch. “No. Not really. I think we hung out once since school. Have you?”
“No.” Sirius frowns. “That’s why I’m asking. He hasn’t really written, either.”
“I’ll write him tonight.”
Sirius still looks a little distracted, humming. “Okay. Yeah. Maybe that’s a good idea.”
Remus tips his head up and kisses him again, simply because he can’t help it. It’s risky, in broad daylight and public, but there’s no one around and the kids on the other bank are too preoccupied with their shitty kite to notice. Sirius leans closer, bracing one hand on the wall and another on Remus’s cheek, pulling him in.
The sun feels good on their backs, soft against the passion of the kiss. Remus can’t stop the slow smile that creeps onto his face as he moves against Sirius’s lips. For a long, unending moment, everything is warm.
Sirius retreats eventually, eyes blown wide and locked on Remus. “Okay. Okay. Right. Hey, would you maybe want to head back to the house?”
“James and Effie are home.”
“I don’t care.”
“Right. Yep. Let's go.”
They leave the bag of sweets forgotten on the wall.
---
Regulus lets his head fall onto his desk, huffing out a frustrated sigh. He’s pretty sure he’s scanned the entire Black library, only to fall short. The closest he’s gotten to anything useful was the book he found a while ago, and he’s already read it cover to cover.
“No luck?” Snape asks from the floor.
“Shut up.”
“I don’t think we’re going to find anything in this house.”
“I refuse to wander into a mystery shack in the middle of nowhere without knowing a little more about this cursed object we’re attempting to find.”
“I’m not suggesting we do. I’m just saying I don’t think we’re looking in the right places.”
“Do you have any ideas then?”
“...No.”
“Right.” Regulus stands up, stretching his arms over his head. “Let's focus on the potion for now. That’s due in what, a week?”
“How are you so calm about this? If we don’t get it right the Dark Lord…”
Regulus shoots him a look. “We’ll get it right.”
“But-”
“While I have no faith in your sorry excuse for potion skills, I happen to trust mine. We’ll be fine.”
“We don’t even have a first draft brewed.”
“Then let’s get boiling.” Regulus moves towards the door, grabbing his coat. The basement gets cold, even in the dead of summer. When he pulls it off the hook, a small piece of paper flutters to the ground. Regulus stoops to grab it, unfolding it quickly.
Oh.
Shit.
It’s the spell Pettigrew slipped across the table in the library, the one that supposedly unlocks the doors during a lockdown and counteracts Dumbledore’s charm. Regulus hadn’t used it during the last lockdown, in part because he’d forgotten, but in part because he was smart enough not to trust it. He thought it was a bit cheap, sending one of the main members of the Order to hand him a spell and tell him it would help. Regulus intended to look into it after school, just to confirm that it was some sort of bullshit tracking charm or something like that, but the paper had gotten lost and he hadn't had enough energy or time to truly search for it.
Yet here it is, sitting in his hand. After a moment of indecision, he slips it into his pocket.
Regulus turns to spare a glance at Snape, wanting him and all his grease out of his room. “Coming?”
“Fine.”
“Thought so.”
They work until dinner. Regulus thinks he might see more of Snape than his own face. The Dark Lord comes by on occasion, though Regulus is pretty sure that’s just to scare Snape into remembering his power. Regulus considers teaching Snape occlumency, if only to ensure his new understanding of Regulus and his motivations don’t get uncovered. He then decides he doesn’t want to get anywhere near Snape’s mind, so he dismisses the idea completely.
“Pass me the dragon liver.”
Snape shoves the jar at him and gets back to stirring. “How many of these have you made?”
“Protection potions? This is my first.”
“No, I mean potions for the cause.”
Regulus looks down at the jar in his hand. “A few.”
“Lots?”
“No.”
“But a few. What kind?”
Regulus turns and glares at him, bracing a hand on the table. “Why do you need to know? Planning to rat me out to Dumbledore? He already knows everything, I guarantee it.”
Snape narrows his eyes. “I just want to know how practiced a killer you are.”
Regulus’s stomach tightens. “I haven’t killed anyone.”
“Oh really. That’s not what Harold said.”
Regulus turns back to the table, forcefully opening the jar and shaking out a few pieces of dried liver. “Don’t talk about Harold.”
“So did you decide you were a traitor before or after you tortured him?”
“You have no idea what you’re talking about.”
“Don’t I? I’ve known my place in this war for a long time.”
“Yeah? As long as you’ve been in love with Lily Evans?”
Snape goes still, jaw clenched. Regulus pulls a container of dragon's blood towards him and drops the liver in, leaving it to rehydrate. “That’s- I’m not- she’s…”
“She’s what?”
“You know,” Snape says, mouth twisted like he’s tasting something unpleasant. “A mudblood.”
Regulus raises an eyebrow. “So you’ve still got some blood-purist in you, then?”
“She’s- we’re not like that. We’re friends.”
“Does she know that?”
“Of course.”
“Why call her that then?”
Snape doesn’t look at him. “She’ll come back around. I know it.”
“So what, you think all muggleborns deserve to die, but you happen to have a crush on a certain one? Why is she the exception?”
“She- she loves me.”
“I ask again- does she know that?”
“Potter certainly does,” Snape says, and Regulus goes still. The name hurts, even now. “She’s never liked him. Not once. She told me. I still-”
“You still what? Have a chance? So you think if Evans fancied Potter you’d never compare?”
“This isn’t about that. None of this-”
“You said yourself that you’re only doing this for her. For what I can only assume to be love.”
Snape takes a step forward. “And you said the same thing. Do you really wanna talk about love, Black? You said this isn’t for your family, so who is it then? Who are you trying to protect?”
Regulus runs a hand through his hair. Grabs some tongs. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“Admit it, Black. You’re just as bad as me.”
Regulus wonders what the two of them would do if James and Lily got together. Be a mess, probably. “You’re disgusting. I’m nothing like you.”
Snape glares. “We’ll see.”
When they finish bottling the newest brew, they retreat back to Regulus’s room. Snape drops onto his now familiar spot on the carpet and Regulus slides back into the chair by his desk, handing Snape the book he’d been studying earlier. “See if you can’t get anything from this,” He mutters, looking out the window. It’s dusty and cracked, covered in the type of grime even Kreature has never been able to fully scrub off. It’s raining, Regulus notes dimly. Of course it is.
He wonders if Saskia knows anything else about Horcruxes. Maybe he should- no. No, that would be a bad idea. Regulus can hardly take seeing Harold over and over again. Saskia’s a different matter altogether.
Speaking of Harold, Regulus slips his hand into his pocket and pulls out the stone. He turns it a few times between his fingers and waits, watching the ghostly figure of Harold appear across the room. “Hello.”
Snape looks up in confusion, jumping in shock and whipping his head around when Harold replies. “I’m here again.”
Regulus crosses his legs. “Yeah. I had more questions for Merope.”
Harold blinks. “What do you need me for then?”
“I don’t. Unfortunately I can’t exactly choose who appears.”
Snape glares at Harold. “Black, is this necessary? He freaks me out.”
“Yes.” Regulus ignores him. “Harold, can you access other souls where you are?”
“Not by choice.”
“Hm.” Regulus looks around. “How do we call Merope then?”
Harold just shrugs, crossing his arms. “She said she was drawn to her family the first time, right?”
“Something like that.” Regulus fiddles with the stone, staring at it. “Should we talk about her son?”
“The Dark Lord?” Snape asks.
“Tom Riddle,” Regulus says, wracking his brain for Merope-related topics.. “Er… Little Hangleton? The ring?”
Behind Harold another shape takes form, Merope stepping from the mist. “Tom?”
“Merope,” Regulus says, standing from his chair. “You’re here.”
“My fami-”
“Right.” Snape stands up. “Can you tell us more about this ring?”
Merope looks to Regulus and the stone in his hand. “Can I hold it?”
“Definitely not.”
“It’s my ring.”
“Please,” Regulus says. “We need to know.”
“Why?”
“So we can ki-” Snape starts, but Regulus shoots a silencing spell at him before he can finish.
“We’re just curious,” Regulus finishes, sending Snape the strongest glare he can manage. “Why would your son have this stone?”
Merope blinks at him, eyes drifting in slightly different directions. It must be hard to focus, Regulus thinks. “I- He would’ve had to take it from my brother. It was his prized possession, but it was Tom’s rightful property. I didn’t know the stone was magical. Maybe Tom did.”
“He did,” Regulus says. “I would almost guarantee it.” There was no other real reason for wanting the stone. “But the ring, he would’ve known it was important to you?”
“If he talked to my brother, yes. He was so protective over it. Valued it over everything.” She spits the last word with such a vicious venom that Regulus is taken aback.
“You didn’t… get along?”
“Ha!” She narrows her eyes. “There’s a reason I gave birth to my son in a boys home? I was cast aside after I fell in love.”
“Oh.” Regulus blinks.
“But I don’t understand why you’re so curious. Or where we are. Or why we’re here.”
Regulus presses a hand to his head, rubbing his temple. She’s going in circles. Between this meeting and the last, she’s given very little in terms of anything helpful. He needs something else. He needs another option. He needs someone who understands the Dark Lord, who knew him when-
No.
It’s a stupid idea.
Truly.
And yet…
Fuck it, Regulus decides, giving Merope a tight lipped smile. He guesses she’s given as good as she has to give. He looks at Harold. “Can you dismiss her?”
“Once again you’re assuming I have literally any control over this situation.” Harold shrugs. “I’m just tied here.”
“Why you?”
Harold holds his gaze. “I’m not sure. I must’ve had a larger impact on you than I thought. That or you don’t know any other dead people.”
“I do,” Regulus says, frowning slightly. He’d have liked to see Alphard, or maybe even Monty. Actually, scratch that last one. Seeing Monty and knowing he basically killed him would be too much.
“Mmph,” Snape says from the ground and Regulus spares him a glance. He’s still silenced, he realizes.
“Can I see my son?” Merope asks, and Regulus drops the stone back onto the desk. Both she and Harold disappear in a second. Regulus waves his wand and Snape gasps, immediately diving into an angry rant about equal treatment and respect.
“-and we still have nothing to go off of,” he spits to finish up.
Regulus nods, vaguely distracted. “I have an idea,” he says slowly.
“What is it?”
“I have to go see someone.”
“Who? I’ll come.”
“No.” Regulus stands, already a little ashamed and defeated. “I need to do this on my own.”
“But-”
“Go to your room. I don’t want you in here when I’m not.”
“Don’t tell me what to do,” Snape gripes, but stands anyway and turns to the door. “You’ll tell me where you went when you come back, though, right?”
“Probably not.” Regulus shrugs. “Maybe.”
“Must you be so difficult?”
“Yes. Now get out.”
Snape leaves and Regulus turns back towards the window, scrubbing his face with his hands and taking a deep breath. He doesn’t want to do this. He really doesn’t want to do this. But compared to the multitudes of other things he's really not wanted to do, he supposes it’s manageable.
“Kreature,” He calls, and sighs.
---
Dumbledore’s sitting at his desk in his office when Regulus knocks. The ministry building he’s occupying stands tall and imposing, all winding corridors and dark wood. Regulus got a few weird looks when he walked in, but the disguise he’s wearing seemed to do the trick.
“Come in,” the Headmaster calls, and the door magically swings open.
Regulus takes a few steps in, shutting it behind him. “Sir.”
Dumbledore looks up, peering at him over his spectacles. His brows pinch slightly as he looks Regulus up and down. “And who might you be?”
Regulus says nothing, moving further in, and Dumbledore sits up slightly. “I have some questions,” Regulus says.
“I’d be happy to answer them once you remove the disguise,” he says calmly. Regulus sighs. He’s shocked he got this far, honestly. He waves his wand and lets his glamour fall back, staring Dumbledore down.
The headmaster has the nerve to look unsurprised, tilting his head. “Mr. Black. I thought you might never show up. If you’ll kindly excuse the current lodgings- the Ministry still desperately wants me to work with them, and while I might refuse, I decided not to turn down the free summer office.”
Regulus rolls his eyes, moving towards the desk and sinking into a seat without waiting for permission. “I need information on the Dark Lord.”
Dumbledore seems to understand, smiling softly. He always guessed Regulus was a traitor. He must’ve seen it in his eyes, somehow. Still, Regulus thought his dramatic reveal would get a bit more of a reaction. “Does this mean you’ll agree to work with the Order?”
“Absolutely not.”
“And yet I have something you need.”
“So do I,” Regulus grits, already frustrated. “I will never be a part of the Order. That doesn’t mean I don’t have questions.”
“Well of course you couldn’t be apart of the Order.” Dumbledore nods towards his arm. “They’d never accept that, not with that mark.”
Regulus desperately wants to leave. He forces himself to hold his ground. “I didn’t have a choice.”
Dumbledore runs a hand down his beard, looking for all the world like someone who’s plan is going exactly right. “You need information?”
“Yes.”
“About Voldemort?”
“About Tom Riddle.”
At that, Dumbledore sits back. He eyes Regulus with a newfound interest, eyes twinkling. “Ah. Tom.”
“He was a student,” Regulus says. “With a keen interest in the Dark Arts. He had to have been on your radar.”
“And how did you learn about Mr. Riddle?”
Regulus shrugs. “I have my sources.”
“And yet you need another.” Dumbledore pours himself some tea from the set on his desk. It’s still steaming, so Regulus guessed it’s been enchanted to stay hot. “Tea?”
“Is that a joke?”
“My apologies.” Dumbledore takes a long sip, and winks. “Tom did stand out to me, even before he took a turn for the worse.”
“How so?”
Dumbledore sets the cup down on the desk, fixing him with an appraising look. Regulus groans internally. “Fine. I do have something you’d like to know. Need to, maybe, if you still want to win this war.”
“Go on.”
“No,” Regulus says, feeling like a little kid. “You first.”
Dumbledore nods in understanding. “Very well. I was the one that brought Tom to school. He spent his childhood in a boy’s home after his mother died.”
“Merope,” Regulus says instinctually and takes great pleasure in the way Dumbledore’s eyes widen slightly.
“I believe that was her name, yes. Regardless, Tom was always… difficult. He had a dark air about him that was impossible not to sense. He was always asking strange questions. Most of the professors were quite scared of him, actually.”
Regulus hums. “What kind of questions?”
“Just about different spells and curses. As you said- dark magic.”
Regulus searches Dumbledore’s face. “Horcruxes.”
The headmaster blinks in surprise. “My, you’ve certainly done your research, Mr. Black.”
“You know, then.”
“I know a lot about Riddle. More than you may think.”
“So why haven’t you started going after them, then? The horcruxes?”
“That would imply I knew where and what they were.” Dumbledore looks at him over his glasses. “Do you? Is there something I should know?”
“No,” Regulus half-lies. “But I know there are more than one.”
“Four,” Dumbledore says, and Regulus goes still. Four. That's… good. That’s a number, definitive and certain.
“How do you know? Did he tell you?”
“He told a good friend,” Dumbledore says slowly. “Who wasn’t as loyal as he thought.”
“Evidently.” Regulus sits back in his chair, letting out a long breath. “Why… what’s your angle here? What’s to stop me from reporting back to the Dark Lord and letting him in all the crucial information you know?”
“Oh, Tom knows I know. He practically told me about the Horcruxes himself. He finds his security in the fact that he’s the sole person who knows where they are.” Dumbledore smiles gently. “And I don’t think you’ll tell him. Any true death eater doesn’t bear their mark with such shame.”
“I-” Regulus cuts himself off, considering. He supposes there’s no use denying it anymore. “Fine. Okay. So… four?”
“As far as I know.” Dumbledore takes another sip of tea. “Mr. Black… is there anything pertaining to horcruxes you should share? Do you have any sort of lead?
Need I remind you- this could save lives.”
“No.”
Dumbledore, for the first time, has the decency to look slightly annoyed. “If we could put Order members on a horcrux task force, it would be a lot easier to-”
“No.” Regulus has made up his mind. A task force would be the worst option. “I- whatever happens, whatever I do or don’t do, I need to do it.”
“While chivalry is admirable, sometimes the fame of success isn’t always worth the price. If you think accomplishing this monumental task alone will cleanse you of your sins in the eyes of wizarding society, then you may need to rethink your motivations.”
Regulus burns with anger, potentially misdirected but fiery all the same. “I’m not doing this for me. I- I won’t let them get hurt. If I can do this, even if I can't, even if I die trying, at least it's me. I’m spareable. I’m… I’m a background character. This war can be won without me- why not use that to my advantage? I’ll do it, if only so they don’t have to.”
Dumbledore’s lips twitch upwards. “Are you sure you’re in the right house, Mr. Black?”
Regulus considers that. Once upon a time, he’d say no. He’d fade into that small little boy, convinced his only purpose in life was to follow his brother. And then the older boy, convinced if it was possible to be loved as strongly as he was by such a pure Gryffindor as James Potter, surely he couldn’t be all bad right? Now though, he knows the truth. Dumbledore thinks he’s being chivalrous, thinks he’s being brave. But the truth of the matter, the very root of it, is:
“I’m doing this for myself. I don’t want them to die, because I don’t want to lose them. I’m being selfish.”
Dumbledore nods slowly. “I’ve always admired Slytherins, you know.”
Regulus works not to laugh. “That’s a lie. All those Gryffindors-”
“Yes, well. They always made it easy to support them, to lift them up. They lend themselves to success. They are optimistic, oftentimes to a fault. Slytherins, though, are always a bit better at being honest about themselves and the world around them. They call it like they see it- that’s an honorable trait.”
Regulus says nothing. He wonders when an honorable trait crosses the line and becomes a justification for pure prejudice.
“You really do still care for your brother, don’t you?” Dumbledore asks, and it feels like a punch to the gut.
Regulus looks up slowly, focusing on the glint in the older man’s eyes. “Will you use that against me?”
“Only if I have to.”
“Right.”
“May I ask how you found out? About Tom and his horcruxes?”
“You may not.”
“Mm.” Dumbledore studies him.
“Did he ever visit his old family home?” Regulus asks cautiously, careful not to give away too much. “Do you know?”
Dumbledore nods. “The Gaunts? Once, I believe. At the end of his seventh year, he asked for a weekend off campus to pay his extended family a visit.”
Regulus bites his lip, lost in thought. So Tom somehow finds out about his family home and goes to visit- finding his distant relatives contrary and argumentative, probably speaking against his late mother. He notices the ring because Merope’s brother flaunts it with such pride, recognizes the stone in the middle, and takes it.
“Have you been back since? Have you spoken with the relatives?”
“Spoken-” Dumbledore pauses. “Oh. You don’t know.”
Regulus blinks. “What?”
“Tom found his father and killed him. After, he returned to Morfin- Merope’s brother- and convinced him he did it by altering his memories. He left Morfin to confess to the crime.” Dumbledore says everything matter-of-factly, as if Regulus really should’ve heard by now.
“Oh,” Regulus says softly. And then: “Merope will be devastated.”
Dumbledore gives him an odd look. “...Merope has been dead for over 30 years.”
“Merope would be devastated,” Regulus hastily corrects. In his head, he revises his version of the story. Tom kills his father, uses that murder to turn the ring into a horcrux, and then absconds with the stone after letting Morfin take the fall for his actions.
It makes sense. He’s not almost certain the ring is the first horcrux. It has to be. And if they get this out of the way- well. Only three to go.
Regulus stands up slowly, lost in thought. “...I have to go.”
“Mr. Black.” Dumbledore doesn’t move, but the look in his eye fixes Regulus to the spot. “This was intended to be a trade of information. You have not yet delivered.”
Regulus nods, remembering. He moves towards the exit as he talks. “Oh. Right. Yeah- there’s a traitor in the Order. A spy.” He turns to give Dumbledore one last smirk. “A bit ironic, isn’t it?”
Dumbledore shifts slightly, hand twitching on the desk. “Who?”
Regulus shrugs. “I have no idea." He says honestly. "Might wanna figure that out.” And then he’s gone, letting the door swing shut behind him.
---
Regulus dreams of a snake, with fangs that drag on the floor and eyes that track every movement in the room. And then he is the snake, and now not only can he see the fear in the faces that watch him, but he can smell it too.
There’s a boy in front of him, with dark curls and a haunted look in his eye. He’s on the ground, staring, every inch of him trembling in fear. He doesn’t want to be here, the snake suspects. Not really. But here he is- and he’ll do anything the snake asks. The darkness festering inside him is obvious- growing and turning. It was put there a long time ago, planted like a seed, like a bomb, waiting till the time strikes.
The snake moves closer, slithering up the boy’s body until its head is level with his. The boy might say something, but the snake is beyond listening. There’s no point to that now. His fear oozes off him in waves, sickeningly sweet and dangerously addictive.
The snake sinks its fangs into the boy's neck, relishing in the gush of blood.
Regulus wakes up drenched in sweat and shaking.
---
“I feel like there are better ways to go about this,” Snape says from behind Regulus.
Regulus says nothing, wishing he left him at home. The house in front of him ( house being a generous term- when Merope referred to it as a shack she was not exaggerating) leans slightly to the left, wood panels stripping from the walls. It looks like it’d collapse under the lightest of breezes. Regulus has no idea how it’s supposedly housing one of the darkest artifacts known to man.
He believes it, though, because everything in him is rioting and turning about, twisting like a den of snakes. That horrid, rotten feeling the Dark Lord manifested in him months ago rears its ugly head, sending his stomach tumbling. It’s the worst it’s been in a long time, and its presence only confirms his fears.
“There will be curses,” he says after a moment, stealing his courage. “And hexes, and jinxes, and whatever else you can think of. If this is truly a piece of the Dark Lord’s soul, he’ll have guarded it with everything he has.”
Snape steps up next to him. “Are we sure about this?”
Regulus gives him a look. “Do you want Lily to live? Her death would be on your hands.”
Snape swallows, going pale. “That wouldn’t…”
“We’re not Gryffindors,” Regulus says, focusing back on the shack in front of them. “But that doesn’t mean we have to be bloody cowards.”
“We don’t even know what we’re walking into. That doesn’t seem brave, just stupid.”
“Well. We know what a horcrux is. We know there’s a good chance there’s one inside that shack. We know it’ll be protected heavily and will take some work to actually get to. We know how to destroy it.”
“And you have the fang?”
Regulus rests a hand on the bag hanging at his hip. “I have the fang.”
“Good.”
They go quiet for another minute, staring at the house in front of them. The wind ripples over the overgrown grasses surrounding them.
“Let’s get it over with, then.” Snape takes a step forward, then another, and Regulus forces himself to follow. With each step the moldy, rotten feeling gets worse, and by the time they reach the house Regulus has to stop, bending over slightly and trying not to be sick. His head spins, dizziness wracking him with such force he sways dangerously on his feet. It’s the proximity to the house, he realizes, that’s doing this to him.
Because of course it is.
They stop right in front of the door, taking a minute to catch their breaths. Regulus moves onto the creaky porch, hoping his feet don’t go straight through the rotten boards.
Okay.
It’s fine.
He can do this.
It has to be him.
Because if it’s not him, then it’ll be Remus, or Sirius, or James. And if something happens- then what?
Then there’s nothing worth saving, and everything anyone’s done has gone to waste.
So it has to be him.
If not for himself, then for Sirius. And if not for Sirius, for James. And if not for James, for Saskia.
It’s really the least he can do for her.
He clears his throat, sucking in a deep inhale of clean country air. His head spins. “Ready?”
Snape steps up next to him, clutching his wand like a lifeline. “Yeah,” he croaks. Regulus reaches for the doorknob. For Saskia, he thinks again.
Then his fingers touch the metal, and his world explodes into pain.