Chapter 2
Regulus didn’t know whether it was day or night. He didn’t know how many hours or days had passed since the last time he ate. He didn’t know if his head would ever stop throbbing with agony.
What he did know was that it was dark. No light was able to peer through the blindfold that smelled vaguely of wet cheese and rum. Regulus could also establish that even though he had never tasted rum, he did not like it and had no intention of ever trying it.
What he also knew was that he no longer was in possession of his cloak nor the jewellery he had been wearing. They were all gone, and Regulus couldn’t help but feel just a bit sad about some of his rings. He had a big ring collection that not only was some of the most expensive things he owned but also one of the things that valued the most to him. It was memories. Like the small silver rose, the colourful diamond bug, and the black skull.
It didn’t matter, though. For now, he had way more important things to worry about.
At some point Regulus had been moved. He didn’t remember the actual move, but he remembered lying on a hay-covered surface that most likely belonged to the back of a horse carriage, judging by the way the ground was shaking. He remembered the feeling of blood rolling down his nose bridge, he remembered trying to think through the constant pain in his head.
Later, when the haze had cleared just a tad, he was able to piece together what had roughly happened.
He had been kidnapped, and now he was tied up in some godforsaken warehouse. The warehouse part was only a guess, though. He could be anywhere. However, Regulus doubted it was a palace.
The first time he had awoken, he had almost had a panic attack. Everything had been a blur, and Regulus was, in all honesty, not sure what there had been most of: blood or tears. Pain had pierced through his brain, and it had, along with the soreness in his joints due to sleeping on the hard floor, made Regulus think he was dying when he finally fell asleep again.
He had realised that it was a bit dramatic when he awoke later, still on the hay-covered floor in the horse carriage. Since then, he had slipped in and out of sleep, the pain slowly subsiding to a headache.
Revolving the perpetrators, Regulus knew they had to be close. There was absolutely no sign that he had had any company since he had been knocked out, but someone had driven the horse carriage, and someone had moved him from the uneven hay floor to wherever he was now. Someone was prowling around, though only when he was unconscious.
Whoever they were, were careful not to reveal themselves.
A mouse squeaked in the distance, and Regulus wished it hadn’t, because now he was wondering what other pests he was sharing the room with. He didn’t mind the presence of animals in general, as long as they just stayed at least six feet away from him with their long, sharp teeth and deathly illnesses.
Slowly, Regulus tried to push himself backwards towards the wall behind him, only to find that the ropes holding him were bound too tightly to give him any opportunity to move. He couldn’t stretch his legs, he couldn’t sit up, his wrists were hurting from where the shackles were digging into his skin, and he couldn’t speak through the gag – couldn’t even call for help. Not that anyone would listen if he did.
And those who could hear him would most likely just laugh at him.
The sound of his stomach wailing for food could suddenly be heard, and it surprised Regulus that the first he thought of was his mother and not the fact that he could end up starving to death. A memory from a few years ago flooded to the surface.
He hadn’t eaten the whole day, and maybe the feeling of being ill should have been enough warning, but he had chosen to ignore it, pretending that everything was fine. There had been a ball that evening, and he didn’t know why, but his stomach had chosen to declare that he was hungry under his mother’s welcome speech by rumbling out loud. His mother had already been in a bad mood – but wasn’t she always? – and though it shouldn’t be anything his mother could scold him for, he was punished the next day. No food from sunrise to sundown, and all he ate that day was what Sirius could sneak him from the kitchen without their parents noticing.
She’s sick, Reggie, sick in the head, Sirius had declared repeatedly until Regulus had told him to shut up before someone would overhear them. It wasn’t the first time it had happened – that Walburga would punish them by forcing them to starve for a day – and it definitely wasn’t the last. After Sirius ran off, it got worse, though. Not only because of Walburga’s temper, but because Regulus started punishing himself too. On the bad days, when he was angry with himself or simply sad, he would starve himself just because.
Just because he was alone and the emptiness in his stomach was good company.
Just because Sirius wasn’t there to sneak him chocolate cake from the kitchen anymore.
Just because he could.
Regulus curled up around his stomach – that, the ropes let him do – and tried to ignore the throbbing emptiness. It was a habit by now, feeling empty and lightheaded from the lack of food and water, so why did his brain feel the need to inform him? It wasn’t as if he could do anything about it.
Suddenly, there was another sound, and Regulus felt his heart speed up as he realised it wasn’t the pests or his stomach complaining. It was the sound of clanking keys. A feeling of nervousness and giddiness took over in his head, and it was an automatic response when his muscles tensed up, preparing for whatever was to come.
There was some silly part of him that couldn’t stop hoping that it was his saviour coming to free him. The prince on the white horse or even just Barty and Evan. He’d even be happy to see his mother or father. Honestly, he’d just be happy to get the smelly blindfold removed and be able to see again.
He knew it wasn’t very likely, though, that someone was coming to save him, and as the approaching person fumbled with what must be the lock on some door, Regulus felt himself get more and more anxious. What if he was about to be killed? Regulus gulped, wishing the ropes had been tied just slightly less tight so he would be able to at least stand up and fight before dying. If he went out, he wanted to have at least tried to survive and not just let it happen while being tied up.
No, Regulus suddenly settled on; whoever was about to enter the room wouldn’t kill him. He had been kidnapped; if he was wanted dead, he would’ve already been by now. He wasn’t about to be slaughtered like he was nothing but a pig.
Finally, the person got the door open, and though Regulus knew he’d most likely survive for now, he still held his breath, lying completely still. At first, nothing happened, and Regulus had the uncomfortable feeling of being watched intensely. Suddenly, a thought hit him.
Maybe he wasn’t about to be murdered but about to be raped.
Regulus' stomach churned – worse than when it had simply been hungry. The mere thought of rape was enough to make him ill, and Regulus knew that no matter how tight the ropes were, he’d fight against both them and the assailant with all his might.
You’re a pretty face, Regulus, his mother had once told him. Someday someone will try to do bad things to you for that reason. Maybe because they envy you, or perhaps simply because they like you enough.
Regulus' throat was dry as the person eventually moved, the steps approaching, and Regulus had the urge to scream. His muscles were screaming to fight, to run, to do anything, but Regulus knew, deep down in his bones, that if it came to a fight, he had no chance of winning.
It was horrifying, knowing that someone, a stranger, had the possibility of ending Regulus so easily. Knowing that for the moment Regulus’ voice was non-existent and that he had no role to play in the question of whether he should live or die. He had never felt so feeble and useless before.
The stranger kneeled, and Regulus swore he could feel the sickening air on his cheek when they sighed. Goosebumps erupted on his skin, and Regulus was glad the blindfold was covering the tears threatening to fall. Suddenly, a hand grazed his cheek, and the only thing preventing him from jumping up and away was the adrenaline and his sheer willpower to live. Carefully, a curl was brushed away from his face, and in any other situation, the gesture would’ve been sweet and caring, but to Regulus, it could just as well have been a knife to his throat.
“Oh, pretty boy,” the stranger – a man – said, voice melancholic and soft. It almost made Regulus believe he could be there to save him. “What did you do to end up here?”
There was no pity in the question, just pure curiosity, and when silence fell over the room again, Regulus honestly wasn’t sure what was to happen. The seconds ticked away, and when Regulus was certain at least a minute had passed and the stranger still hadn't moved, he willed his heart to slow down.
He wasn’t about to die.
He wasn’t about to be raped.
He wasn’t about to be saved either, but he chose to ignore that and think of the positives instead. He was still breathing, and that was all that mattered at the moment.
Eventually, the man seemed to wake up from his trance, and Regulus’ body instantly tensed up again. He had no idea what the man was doing; he could only hear him. Suddenly, something pulled at the ropes around his legs, loosening them, and a distant voice in the back of his mind instantly started screaming at him to kick or lash out at the first given opportunity. It was indeed a miracle that Regulus managed to stay exactly where he was, keeping up the act of sleeping.
Playing dead, like a mouse underneath the gaze of a hungry eagle searching for its next meal.
What happened then, Regulus wasn’t prepared for. In one swift motion, the man grabbed him by the hair, hauling him to his feet with a hard pull that Regulus was sure would cost him several strands of hair. The words “get up” was sneered at him in an annoyed and grumpy voice, far from the soft one he had heard earlier. However, Regulus barely registered it, desperately trying to steady himself on the floor that felt unbalanced under his feet.
His legs were hurting and shaky from lying still for days, and the rope once again cut into the skin on his wrists as he automatically and helplessly tried to pull himself free. The blindfold was still sitting neatly in place, along with the gag, and Regulus wailed as he was dragged along, unable to see where he was walking.
The door slammed shut behind them, and Regulus physically flinched. He tried to duck, but the man only gave his hair a harsh pull that had Regulus wincing, and then the speed was fastened to a point where Regulus stumbled with every step. The man didn’t take pity on him, though. The throbbing in his head had returned, and the constant pull on his hair was enough to make him cry. Something warm trickled down his cheekbone before dripping down his chin, and Regulus’ knees buckled underneath him. Without the man’s grip on him, Regulus was sure he would’ve fallen to the floor.
Regulus didn’t know how many times they turned corners or how long they walked. He didn’t know what was about to happen. In all honesty, he didn’t know much, and it was starting to get to his head.
Other than the hand in his hair, one hand gripped onto his elbow, pulling and pushing him in whatever direction they were going. Regulus stopped trying to resist, making his body as pliant as possible. The more willing he was, the less he was shoved and harshly pulled at. The more willing he was, the less pain.
When they finally came to a halt, Regulus had stopped shaking as obviously and pressed the tears back, pretending to be fine. Or as fine as the situation would allow him. A rough shove forced him to his knees and even when the man let go of his hair, Regulus stayed where he was, head lowered, though he couldn’t actually see anything. It was a trick he had learned while growing up in the castle. A lowered head meant unimportance and yielding. So did avoiding eye contact and maintaining silence. The room the man had led him to was far from silent, though.
Infuriated voices sneered at each other, clearly discussing serious matters, and the floor creaked whenever someone stepped on a loose board. Low sniffling could be heard somewhere next to him, and Regulus doubted the owner of the sniffles could be more than fifteen. A shiver ran down his spine.
“Sit still,” a female voice snapped, drowning out the other people talking. Her voice was rough and hoarse, as if she had smoked her whole life away.
A loud smack sounded, and then a cry filled with sheer pain that made Regulus’ blood freeze to ice. He tilted his head down even more, letting his chin rest against his collar and telling himself to calm down. Keep breathing, keep breathing, keep breathing, he chanted. He wasn’t dead yet, and he could make it back to the castle alive.
A hand grabbed him by his hair again, and Regulus’ body jerked as his head was yanked up in an unexpected movement hard enough to make him tumble backwards if the tight grip would let him. His heart was beating faster than ever before, and tears welled up at the pain.
Suddenly, the gag was pulled away, and Regulus almost choked on his own spit as he coughed. He didn’t get time to recover, though, because the blindfold quickly followed. Bright light instantly blinded him, and his eyes instantly watered at the sudden burn. Regulus kept his eyes shut as the stranger in front him stood up, the wooden floor creaking as they walked away.
“What do you think?”
Carefully, Regulus opened his eyes, looking up hesitantly.
“I don’t know,” a man said. His face was covered in dirt, and his matte brown hair hung down in front of his eyes, so greasy it looked wet. Regulus willed himself to remember the man’s face, to engrain his recognizable features to Regulus’ mind, so Regulus would be able to describe the man to his parents and guards – bristly ears and blue eyes that were set a little too far apart, quite identifiable. “Four thousand Galleons.”
“Only?” another man broke in, stepping closer and tilting his head in confusion. He was a great deal shorter, with messy blonde hair and a round brand on his cheek. The skin was still red and looked hurtful. “Have you seen those eyes, man?” He gestured towards Regulus, his gaze flying over his body for a second before looking back. “I’d say seven point five thousand at least.”
“He seems very weak, though,” Greasy-hair supplied, tilting his head slightly. His eyes still hadn’t left Regulus' frame, and Regulus felt exposed underneath his icy blue gaze. “Doesn’t even look like he’s ever done any hard work.”
The whole room wasn’t bigger than Regulus’ own room back at the castle, but it still managed to accommodate a smaller group of tied-up people, all sitting on the floor, and a few freed and standing individuals. Regulus tried to figure out who among them could have possibly hit him in the head with a bat and who had woken him up earlier, but with their dirty clothes and bruised faces, Regulus thought they all looked the same.
Another low sniffle reached his ear, and Regulus tilted his head to the side, his gaze catching sight of a small body that was indeed not older than fifteen. Ten, possibly, if the girl was very small for her age. She too was tied up, sitting on her knees on the floor, a gag in her mouth and a blindfold covering her eyes. Regulus’ heart sank in his chest. He had never liked kids nor enjoyed their company, but he desperately wished he could pick her up, hug her and tell her everything was going to be okay.
“Yeah, exactly!” the Brand exclaimed. He was smiling exaggeratedly, his eyes twinkling with something Regulus didn’t like. “Petite and stunning. Don’t tell you don’t believe someone would want something like that. Like, come on, just look at him. He’s a little snack.”
The Brand turned to look at him, an evil smile resting on his lips, and Regulus quickly lowered his gaze. The fear was slowly seeping into his mind again, like a slimy and nasty snake, slithering around in his subconscious and spreading poison everywhere it goes.
Keep breathing, keep breathing, keep breathing, he reminded himself.
Suddenly, a door was slammed open, and Regulus flinched. He was clenching his hand so hard that his fingernails were digging painfully into his palms. A screaming girl was carried in through the open doorway, and Regulus couldn’t help but cast a secret sidelong glance after her. To no surprise, she was tied up in the same manner as Regulus and the others, scattered across the room. There was absolutely nothing to do as she was thrown to the floor with a loud cry. The man next to her instantly put his foot on her back, pressing roughly and forcing her down. She did nothing to hide the loud sob escaping her lips.
Regulus gulped, tearing his gaze away from the horrible sight. He didn’t need to be told to know that if tried anything, he’d get the same treatment.
“Scared?”
Regulus looked up at the voice, his lips pressed together tightly to stop them from quivering. The Brand was smirking at him, waiting for him to answer and Regulus saw no reason to lie.
“I’d be a fool if I weren't.”
He looked down again, trying to appear as small as possible, as one of the men who had brought the crying girl along walked up in front of him, kneeling. Two fingers grabbed his chin, lifting his head to meet the man’s insistent green gaze, and Regulus swallowed past the lump in his throat. Surprisingly enough, the grip on his jaw wasn’t uncomfortable or too tight, and the green eyes weren't filled with amusement at his pain like the Brand’s were. The man simply seemed calm and firm, but Regulus had the feeling to watch out for him. He had the urge to turn around, run away, and never look back.
“What do you think?” the Brand interrupted, pulling the man out of his thoughts. “Do you reckon we could get ten thousand for him?”
“Ten thousand is a lot more than seven point five thousand,” Greasy-hair pointed out, frowning at the Brand. Neither he nor the green-eyed man acknowledged Greasy-hair, keeping their own conversation going.
“Where did you find this one?”
The Brand turned his gaze to a short-haired woman standing up against the wall a few metres away. Her face was pierced in every possible spot, and as she licked her lips before pushing off the wall, Regulus saw that her tongue, too, was pierced – in three different places. Barty would’ve surely fallen for her right on the spot.
“Somewhere in Bain,” she said hoarsely, shrugging carelessly, as if she couldn’t really be bothered.
Slowly, the green-eyed man looked back at Regulus, and Regulus felt his stomach drop at the thoughtful expression on his face.
“Care to be more specific?” he asked. The question was reserved for the woman, but the man didn’t look at her.
The woman contemplated it for a second before simply saying, “no.”
A mean chuckle fell from the Brand’s lips, and the woman glared at him, a cruel promise glinting in her narrowed eyes. The Brand responded with a foul grimace and poked out his tongue.
“Sorry, boss,” she sneered. “I don’t really keep an eye on that stuff anymore. it’s been too many to count at this point.”
Though the words were clearly directed at the green-eyed man – the boss, Regulus supposed – she didn’t avert her gaze from the Brand. Just like how the boss wasn’t looking at her. Years of working together probably gave them the talent to keep a conversation like that. It was akin to how Regulus knew exactly what each one of his mother’s stares meant.
The Brand didn’t withdraw from the pierced woman’s death stare, and he glared back just as coldly. Regulus didn’t doubt the two of them would hit each other if it came to that.
The boss nodded and gave a low hum, clearly lost in thoughts again, but only Greasy-hair seemed to actually notice it. The woman and the Brand were occupied with each other, and the man holding the still softly crying girl down with his foot seemed to have zoned out fully, staring at a wall with an emotionless expression.
“I don’t think I want to sell this one immediately,” the boss finally stated, standing up and letting go of Regulus’ face when the silence had stretched on for too long. The Brand broke his staring contest with the woman, a frown overtaking his face.
“What? Why?” He gave Regulus a quick up-and-down. “Do you want him for yourself or something?”
“No,” the boss said, stopping and giving Regulus another examining look. “I just have a feeling we could get a great deal more than ten thousand Galleons if we wait for the right buyer.”
Regulus was almost certain the boss knew. Knew that Regulus’ parents would pay hundreds and thousands of Galleons to get him back safely. Knew that he had just won the right game of poker by kidnapping the crown prince. Regulus’ skin was too clean, too smooth for him to have lived anywhere but a castle. His attitude was too posh, and his clothes too ornate. Everything about Regulus’ presence screamed that he was different, that he didn’t belong in a dirty warehouse.
“I told you! Hah!” the Brand blurted out, turning to flash a way too self-satisfied smirk at Greasy-hair who simply groaned, hiding his face in his hands. The pierced woman rolled her eyes, crossing her arms over her chest. She scowled at the Brand, and Regulus had a feeling she was fighting the urge to hit him – or worse.
Fortunately, before she got that far, the door was slammed open again as someone stormed in, gaining attention from all of them – even the man keeping an eye on the girl on the floor. The newcomer was younger than the others, still just as dirty and rough-looking, though. A yellow bandanna was bound around his forehead, keeping dirty blonde locks out of his eyes, and one of the sleeves on his shirt was missing completely.
“Boss,” he panted, almost stumbling over his own feet as he came to a halt. Regulus suddenly noticed he was bleeding from the nose. “I- Boss, we- It’s bad. Someone’s attacking. We don’t know why.”
The young man’s chest was heaving at an incredible speed, and his eyes were flickering around frantically, as if he was scared one of the mentioned attackers could be hiding just behind his boss. He took another few frantic breaths and when he continued again, the pierced woman was by his side. She looked like she’d have no problems with leading a most likely bloody counterattack.
“We need assistance. Now.”
“How many are they?” the boss asked, his voice matching his ice-cold exterior.
“I-” the young man stuttered. He was shaking, wringing his fingers in a way that looked deeply disturbing and painful. “I don’t know. Many.”
The boss averted his gaze to Regulus leisurely. A sly and secretive smirk played on his lips, and his narrowed green eyes seemed to ask if Regulus should happen to know the answer to his question.
Is this your work? Are your parents finally coming for you, little prince?
Regulus swallowed, looking down at the floor.
Could it possibly be his parents? Had they already found him? Was he indeed about to be saved?
Regulus hoped so. His mother could scold him, give him house arrest, starve him for days as punishment. As long as he got to go home, he’d do anything. He’d never sneak out again. He’d marry a fine lady, inherit the throne, cut his hair to an appropriate length. Anything to not be sold as some sort of slave whether it be for four thousand, seven point five thousand, ten thousand or even more.
“Get them to the carriage,” the boss said firmly. He clenched his jaw, and a firm grimace slid onto his face as he nodded towards the group of bound people sitting on the floor, including the young sniffling girl.
The Brand was the first to move, mumbling a low “yes, boss” before walking towards Regulus, his self-satisfied smirk long gone. Regulus gulped, forcing himself to breathe. Against all odds, he was still alive and somewhat unhurt.
“Except that one,” the boss interrupted, and Regulus stopped dead in his tracks, his blood freezing to ice. As if he knew, the boss smiled cruelly, flashing a gold tooth. “I want to have a little chat with that one later.”
The Brand nodded, and Regulus had no chance to protest as the gag was forced in between his teeth, and the blindfold tied around his head once more. Regulus had never been scared of the dark, but he found that he now was. A lot, even. Not being able to see what was happening, not being able to see where his kidnappers were and what they were doing, it horrified him.
A harsh tug on his elbow pulled him to his feet, and it took everything in Regulus to not fall or stumble. It was way harder to keep your balance when you couldn’t see and were dizzy from the lack of food and water. He had been lucky, though. There was a whole group of people around him who hadn’t had the luxury of being able to see for...
Days, possibly.
The kidnappers around him and the Brand got to work, filling the room with the sound of creaking wooden boards and occasional shrieks as someone was shoved or pulled a bit too hard. Regulus hated the sound. He hated that he had never once considered that people outside of the castle could be treated like this.
Quickly, the Brand ushered Regulus along, and Regulus hated that he was grateful when the sounds faded to the background.
Again, Regulus had no idea where he was being led, and again, he had no voice and no role to play. He could just as well have been a pawn in a game of chess.
The Brand turned a corner, and Regulus followed, desperately trying not to stumble over his feet at the sudden change in direction. His legs felt incredibly weak, like they would break if he bumped into something a bit too hard, and his hip was hurting with every step. He didn’t know why, though. Honestly, it just felt like everything hurt. Every little bone in his body felt like they were seconds away from simply crashing and leaving him in a pile of skin and useless muscles on the floor.
He’d even dare to say he’d never been as exhausted in his life before as he was now.
A scream sounded in the distance, and Regulus' blood froze to ice instantly. Was today indeed going to be his last? Would he be killed along with the ones who kidnapped him in the first place, as another nameless face?
Regulus prayed, he so desperately prayed, it was his parents’ men coming to save him and not another gang who’d either kill or use him.
“Move on,” the Brand sneered, giving Regulus a shove to get him to walk again – a bit faster than before, Regulus noticed. The Brand’s voice was stern, but Regulus heard it. He heard the slight tremble, and it made Regulus make a quick decision.
Someone was attacking, and Regulus wasn’t sure if he wanted those men to suddenly stumble upon him, helplessly tied up, if they should happen to win the fight. The risk of being kidnapped again was too high, and the chance of his parents coming to save him too low. He couldn’t just wait around. Eventually he’d die from starvation and thirst. He, also, didn’t need to be told to know that it would be more painful than a knife to his throat.
The Brand should’ve seen it coming, he really should, but fortunately for Regulus, he didn’t, and he cursed out loudly as Regulus kicked his shin as hard as possible. The Brand curled forward in agony, and Regulus made a quick turn, trying to get the Brand to loosen his grip on his arms. It worked partly, one hand slipping from one of Regulus’ elbows but the other stayed where it was, tightening to the point where it hurt, and Regulus winced against the gag.
He pulled back roughly, still trying to get free, but his back collided hard with a wall he hadn’t known about. The Brand must have recovered from the initial shock because suddenly, a harsh punch hit Regulus right on the jaw.
It wasn’t fair, Regulus told himself. He was tied up, unable to see and half-dead from hunger while the Brand most likely beat up people daily.
Regulus cried out around the gag, and his head flew back into the wall with a hard smack. The pain was instant, and Regulus thought he was going to pass out. Blood started flowing in his mouth, leaving a metallic taste, and Regulus felt panic rise in him when he realised he couldn’t spit it out, due to the gag.
The Brand didn’t care, though, and the next punch was just as hard, hitting only slightly above where the other hit had landed.
Regulus felt himself going limp against the wall, the only thing holding him up being the Brand’s hand on his upper arm. The Brand sneered at him, leaning in close, but Regulus barely noticed, too busy trying to force his aching jaw open enough for the blood to dribble past his lips and down his chin.
Drowning in his own blood wasn’t something Regulus hoped to ever experience.
“Listen here, you little shit,” the Brand panted in his ear, his grip tightening even more, and Regulus whimpered, thankful for every inch he could slither away. “Right now, I could easily beat the living shit out of you and leave you to die here on the floor, but I’m not going to because I have better things to do, so watch it. Do you understand?”
Regulus didn’t think the Brand actually wanted him to answer – he was gagged, for Merlin’s sake – but the Brand pulled him away from the wall just to slam him up against it again.
“Do you understand me, boy?” he yelled.
Spit hit Regulus’ cheekbone, and he nodded frantically, trying to think through the ringing in his ears. It felt like someone had filled his head with water, and now it would only be a matter of seconds before he would drown in it. He was shaking. Badly.
“Good,” the Brand snarled, waiting a few seconds before grabbing Regulus by the neck and forcing him away from the wall, down the hallway again. The speed was ruthless, and Regulus stumbled several times, only to be hauled back on his feet and dragged along again.
Fortunately for Regulus, they didn’t go very far before the Brand opened a door and gave Regulus a hard shove inside. His legs failed him, and Regulus faceplanted, hands unable to help.
“Do not,” the Brand snapped, “think that I am finished with you.”
The door slammed closed behind him.
For a few seconds, Regulus laid completely still. He didn’t even care to think, letting the deafening silence wash over him along with the pain and the feeling of helplessness.
A part of him wished someone, or something, would come around to divert his attention from the pain and the low whines he refused to believe came from himself. Everything hurt. Every shallow breath in and out and every little weak move made him want to curl up around his empty stomach and sob.
The floor was cold against his cheek and though Regulus knew it was dirty, his movements to get up weren’t rushed. Far from it. It started with pulling one leg up to his chest, and then, after a few deep breaths through his nostrils, the other. Another small pause followed before he finally pushed up into a sitting position, to which his back protested vehemently. Regulus bit back a rant of curses, groaning his frustrations out instead.
Tears welled up in the corners of his eyes, but the blindfold prevented them from falling, drying them out before they could roll. Though Regulus couldn’t stand the blindfold, he was thankful for that. Crying would only make him more frustrated and despairing.
Without the looming presence of panic and immediate danger, Regulus discovered that he wasn’t about to drown completely in blood and that he might have overreacted just a tad. He could indeed taste the blood, feel it on his tongue, but if he simply kept his mouth slightly agape, it was no actual problem.
His legs weren’t bound like earlier, so Regulus was relieved to find that he could stand up. However, it only happened after another couple of deep breaths and oddly calming reprimands that sounded eerily like something his mother would say.
Pull yourself together, Regulus. Just stand up. It can’t possibly be that hard.
It felt exposing; standing blindly in the middle of the silent room, and Regulus carefully made his way to the right until his foot hit a wall. Leaning against it, Regulus sighed to himself.
Okay, maybe attacking the Brand hadn’t been his best idea. In his defence, what else was there to do? He wasn’t staying; he had already decided that. Attacking the Brand had just seemed like the easiest way to get away.
Well, his mother’s voice supplied, if the easy plan had failed before it even started, how would the other plans go?
Regulus chose to ignore that comment, and he turned around, letting his forehead rest against the wall. The cool surface calmed him down enough to think through the haze of pain.
Getting away would require him being able to see, and thus the blindfold had to go. However, if the blindfold was to be removed, he’d need his hands, and there was no way he was getting untied without help. He had had enough sleepless hours in the back of the horse carriage to know that wasn’t a possibility.
He doubted it was even possible with a tool. The ropes were too tight for Regulus to slide his hands through, and they were too snug around his wrists for him to cut the ropes without accidentally injuring himself in the process, given his lack of control. Not to mention that he’d need a knife for that, and for some reason, he doubted there was a knife just lying around somewhere in the room.
What even is in this room? his mind asked.
When silence was the only answer he got, Regulus carefully stepped away from the wall, feeling the floor out with his foot. He made sure to constantly be aware of where the wall was as he took one step after another, exploring the room cautiously.
It wasn’t bigger than a few metres on each side, and Regulus was surprisingly sad to discover that there was nothing but dirt on the floor. At some point, his foot hit a small stone, but Regulus doubted it would be of any use when his hands were still tied, so he left it where it was, moving on with his foot first.
Suddenly, something rattled, and Regulus stopped where he was, carefully moving his foot away from the wall. At the movement, the wall rattled again – or perhaps not a wall at all, Regulus supposed. As far as he knew, walls didn’t rattle. Slowly, Regulus turned his back to the wall, that wasn’t a wall, letting his hands wander across the smooth surface.
At first, there was nothing and Regulus frowned underneath the blindfold, but suddenly his left hand bumped into something hard. Regulus curled his hand around it.
It was a door handle, which meant-
Regulus pulled at the handle, the door rattling uselessly in response. He should’ve known, Regulus realised, but his heart still dropped in his chest when it didn’t open. Of course, the Brand had locked the door. Only an idiot wouldn’t have.
Regulus couldn’t help himself; he kicked the door. It didn’t unlock, but Regulus’ foot started hurting, nonetheless.
Carefully, to avoid hurting himself more, Regulus leaned his head up against the door, sighing loudly into the empty room. There was no response – not that he had expected one. He waited a few seconds more before pulling himself together and pushing off the door, only to find that the door handle had gotten itself stuck under the rope around his wrists, trapping him momentarily.
Suddenly, something dawned on him.
The rope might be too tight for him to slide his hands out of, but the blindfold wasn’t. With a little help he could most likely get the blindfold slid off. With something to pull at the fabric around his head – just like the door handle was pulling at the ropes – he could soon enough be able to see again.
With a twist of his wrist, Regulus freed himself from the door handle and pulled away before quickly turning around and kneeling in front of the door. As his forehead gently knocked on it, searching for the handle, Regulus really hoped no one would come looking for him and accidentally slam the door in his face.
The door handle was cold against his cheek, but Regulus welcomed the chill, tilting his head so the handle would have better access to the blindfold. It was an awkward position because he was a bit too short, meaning he had to kneel on one knee and stand on one foot. He was also very close to losing his balance and falling completely.
Regulus had a feeling that if Barty had been there, he would have been too busy laughing to be any help at all.
Pushing the thought away, Regulus guided the door handle up along the bridge of his nose, almost stabbing himself in the eye in the process. The blindfold was tied tightly around his head, and it was a battle just to get the handle underneath the fabric.
Regulus couldn’t understand how he had managed to get his hands stuck so easily.
Suddenly, a not-so-far-away yell brought Regulus out of his thoughts, and he felt his whole body stiffen, blood freezing to ice. If anyone found him now – whether it be the Brand, the boss or one of the attackers – Regulus knew he’d end up hurt.
The sound of his troubled breaths filled the room, but other than that, there was no more sounds, nothing to indicate someone was trying to get to him. Really, the silence should’ve comforted him.
It didn’t, though.
No one was coming for him. He was okay. Nothing was going to happen, he tried to convince himself, only for it to be interrupted by yet another yell – louder this time.
Closer this time.
That was all it took.
Regulus instantly pulled down to force the door handle up between his forehead and the blindfold. His movements were rushed, uncontrolled, but Regulus didn’t have the time. He needed to be done before someone showed up.
The door handle was hard to control without his hands, and it kept moving in the wrong directions as Regulus tried to push it further up. His heart was beating at full speed, and Regulus was convinced it was trying to hammer through his chest. It was trying to escape, with or without Regulus’ body.
Steps sounded. In the distance, though. But they were fast, as if someone was running.
Regulus pulled, willing the door handle to tug at the blindfold, but all it did was tighten around his temple, and Regulus cried out in frustration. Pain coursed through his head, and the blood in his mouth felt too heavy. There was too much, and Regulus couldn’t remove the damn gag. Someone was getting closer, and Regulus was stuck. He was stuck, stuck, stuck and he wanted to cry.
Pulling again, even harder and still without the desired result, Regulus felt the panic rise, drowning out all common sense. His mind was a blur of panic and pain melded into one – fear.
Work now, work now, work now, he chanted.
The steps kept on getting closer, and Regulus repressed a sob, biting down on the gag to prevent any sounds from leaving his lips. He knew it was only a matter of seconds before anyone could burst in.
He pulled again, the pain sharp and immediate – like needles cutting through his head, but Regulus only stopped for a second before doing it again. And then again.
The creaking wooden floor could be heard now, and Regulus knew that the someone must be right outside. The blindfold was squeezing his forehead uncomfortably, still not moving, and somewhere in his mind, an alarm was ringing.
Just work, just work, just work, his mind begged. Please.
Something clanked on the other side of the door.
Keys.
Regulus pulled yet again, backwards, forwards, tilted his head – and then, if it hadn’t been for the gag Regulus would’ve actually cried out in happiness as he fell backwards to the floor, his sight returning as the blindfold stayed on the door handle. The room was bathed in darkness, the only light being the line underneath the door.
Silhouettes of feet could be seen through it, and as the door was unlocked with a low click, Regulus rapidly stood up, ignoring the way his legs protested with exhaustion. He threw himself at the wall next to the door, not getting a chance to nurse his aches and pains before the door was slammed open.
The boy was barely through the door before Regulus was upon him, colliding with him shoulder-first. They hit the wall on the other side together, but Regulus was ready, and he quickly pulled away, turning to face the open door.
Regulus had learned from his fight with the Brand; he wasn’t going to fight anyone when he was still tied up. He was going to run. He was going to get away while he had the chance. While the boy behind him was still too confused to know what was happening. All he had to do was run. He'd fix the problem with the ropes around his wrists later. He could do it.
Regulus managed to take exactly one step before hands grabbed his waist, pulling him backwards into the room. Shrieking, he stumbled not only over his own legs but also the boy’s before hitting the wall next to him with his back first. All air was knocked out of his lungs, and Regulus made the horrible mistake of trying to breathe through his mouth.
The gag stopped him from sucking in air almost completely, which only made him try harder and swallow blood in the process. His mind was screaming at him to use his nose, but the alarm had started ringing again, and Regulus didn’t know how to not breathe. His head was throbbing, everything hurt, and all the while, there was still the newcomer next to him.
The boy seemed to have recovered from the surprise, and he quickly turned towards Regulus, grabbing him by the shoulders to stop him from going anywhere.
Finally, Regulus managed to breathe again, desperately sucking air in through his nostrils before blowing it out and doing it again. His chest felt like it was on fire, and his throat felt like it was filled to the brim with water.
Helplessly, Regulus tried to twist his upper body out of the boy’s grab, but he quickly pushed Regulus flush with the wall. Regulus attempted it again, but his strength was fading, the boy was way bigger, and it was to no use. He was too tired, too injured, too hungry, too thirsty.
Tears welled up again because he had been so close. The door was right next to him, and he had managed to get rid of the blindfold. Regulus could see. He could see through the door leading to freedom. He had been so close to getting away. Had he simply been a bit faster, hit the boy a bit harder. It could’ve worked. He could’ve escaped.
But he didn’t and Regulus knew if the Brand got informed about his failed attempt to flee, he would come to wish he had died from starvation or thirst first. Regulus had failed, and he turned his head, closing his eyes and preparing for a hit that would resonate through his head like the one earlier.
It never came, though, and when Regulus finally dared to look up at the boy, he found that deep brown eyes were looking intensely at him.
Regulus didn’t recognize him, but he supposed there were other people working for the green-eyed boss. Other than the Brand, Greasy-hair and the pierced woman – maybe even some normal-looking people. Or maybe he wasn’t one of his men but one of the attackers, the young man had mentioned.
Whether he was or not, Regulus couldn’t determine, and for a second, he and the boy just stared at each other, both breathing shallowly. The boy seemed to be around his age and was wearing round glasses that only made his brown eyes look bigger and more charming, easier to fall into. His hair was a nice shade of brown too, hanging around his tanned face in long curls. Perhaps his nose was a bit too big, but Regulus found that he thought the man was quite attractive.
Not the worst way to die, a little voice in his head chirped in. Regulus thought it sounded a lot like Barty.
They were pressed tightly up against each other, their chests heaving in unison with every inhale and falling in unison with every exhale. A soft look had taken over the boy’s face, and Regulus felt weirdly exposed under his gaze. He wasn’t able to turn around or at least cover himself with his hands, and it made Regulus gulp, quickly looking to the ground. The boy didn’t look away from him, though, seemingly lost in thoughts, and Regulus’ eyes slowly flickered back to him.
Was he not going to kill Regulus?
Regulus wanted to say something, tell him to snap out of his mind, to lead him to the boss, to punch him, but the gag prevented him from doing anything but gurgling out blood and spit at a slow pace. The metallic taste of blood stung on his tongue, and Regulus desperately tried to ignore the urge to vomit. Finally, the boy’s gaze moved away, but after a quick worried look out of the still open door, it returned, settling back on Regulus’ face again and-
He smiled. Despite everything, the boy smiled.
“Hey, love.”